Divorced, Desperate and Deceived

by Christie Craig

“Because you don’t…” He paused. “What was he?”

  The puppy whined and plopped his wet nose on her chest. “An accountant.”

  His gaze was on the dog or her breasts, but he looked up. “I suppose you don’t like that I was an accountant, too? For the bad guys.”

  “It’s on my list.”

  “Oh, so I made the list.” A hint of tease played in his voice. “Wow. I’ve wanted to make a list of yours for a while.”

  She didn’t reply, mostly because she wasn’t sure if she had it in her right now to joke.

  Luke sighed. “So who was the cop?”

  She looked over at him. “I told you, his name was Cary Jenkins.”

  “No, who was the cop that caused you to dislike the whole lot of us? Or was that him? Did you date him at one time?”

  “No.” She increased her pace. “I just got too many speeding tickets.”

  “You don’t lie worth a damn,” he said, catching up.

  “Guess you could teach me how, huh? It’s sort of your area of expertise. Do they teach that in cop school?”

  He didn’t have a comeback. They walked another minute in silence.

  “Your father a cop?” he finally asked.

  Don’t tell anyone about your daddy, okay? We don’t want the kids at the new school to tease you. She would bet her mom had told her that a dozen times. She never squealed, but somehow the kids always found out. How could they not? In Alabama her dad was famous. It wasn’t until she was sixteen and she and her mom moved to Texas that her daddy’s sins stopped being tossed in her face. It wasn’t until she was nineteen, after her trip back to Alabama and her own adventure with the law, that she went to the library and discovered just how big his sins had been.

  “What did your father do?” she asked, turning the tables on Luke.

  He glanced over at her. “He was a plumber.”

  “Ahh, so that’s how you know how to unstop a toilet, huh?”

  “Pretty much.”

  His shoulder brushed up against hers. “So…he’s a cop, isn’t he?”

  “Who?” she stalled. If she couldn’t lie, maybe she could skirt the truth.

  “Your dad.”

  Okay, so he wasn’t gonna let her skirt. She shook her head. “He isn’t anything. He’s dead.”

  “Sorry.” He looked behind them as he heard a car, but it was nothing. After a few minutes he asked, “What did Officer Jenkins mean about a club?”

  She was so relieved that he’d dropped the topic of her dad that she decided to tell him. “The Divorced, Desperate and Delicious club.”

  He smiled. “Delicious, huh?”

  “Sue named it.”

  “The blonde?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And what kind of club is it?” he asked.

  “It isn’t really a club. We just get together once a week.”

  “And drink Jack Daniel’s.” A smile pulled at his mouth.

  She remembered him dropping by once during a meeting. “Sometimes we drink wine.”

  “What else?”

  “Margaritas.”

  “No, what else do you guys do in this club?”

  “We talk.” She sped up again. “Just talk.” But no sooner had she answered than she realized her mistake. Logically his next question would be…

  “About what?”

  She rolled her eyes at him. “About what dogs men are.”

  “And I know how much you love dogs.” His gaze shifted to the puppy, who busied himself poking his nose in her cleavage.

  Luke seemed to move a little closer. She could feel the energy that whispered through her every time he was physically near. But the closeness she felt now…it was different. And she’d never been a fan of different. Give her the ol’ status quo every time. Was it boring? Heck, yeah. But boring was also safe.

  “So…you talk about men at this club, huh?”

  “Some,” she admitted.

  “Ever talk about me?”

  “Never,” she lied.

  He laughed. “What did you say?”

  “Please! Why would I talk about you?”

  They were almost to the parked cars, and Kathy felt her stomach knot again. Glancing up, she wondered if he’d started this conversation just to keep her mind off what they were about to attempt. “Seriously, what do I have to do here?”

  He draped an arm around her shoulders. “Just pretend you’re my wife.”

  “That should be easy,” she joked.

  “Really?” His fingers toyed with her hair where it lay on her shoulder, and she could feel his hard body moving against hers.

  “Yeah, I hate you almost as much as my ex.” It was a whopper of a lie, but she decided that in these circumstances she shouldn’t be held accountable.

  A warm finger moved across her ear. “We’ll have fun making up later.”

  “Keep dreaming,” she said.

  Nonetheless, things were different between them. He touched her freely now. Before, they had teased but didn’t touch. He probably felt justified in touching her now, since she’d practically climbed in his lap and dry-humped him in his kitchen. Yet strangely enough, she sensed the difference ran deeper. It didn’t just involve touching. It was as if somehow the last few hours had changed something emotional between them. She was not a fan.

  “Oh, I’ll keep dreaming about it,” he replied, and stopped beside a red Chevy truck.

  Kathy set the puppy down, and it started sniffing around for a good spot. The dog wasn’t the only one who needed relief, either; her own bladder pinched.

  “Tell me.” Luke leaned in and bounced his shoulder against hers. “Do you ever dream about me?” His breath tickled her cheek.

  “No!” The image of them naked in bed together—Matthew McConaughey feeling rejected and leaving the room—flashed in her head. She tucked her hair behind her ear and watched the puppy so he wouldn’t see her lying eyes. “Why would I dream about you?”

  He laughed, and that sexy masculine sound had her insides melting. And this melting wasn’t different; the attraction had always been there. She could deal with that—or she’d thought she could when she’d decided to sleep with him. But things had changed, right? She shouldn’t still be melting, because now she wasn’t going to sleep with him.

  “So what are these dreams about?”

  “I don’t dream about you,” she repeated. She continued to look down.

  He laughed harder. “What are we doing in these dreams?” He tilted her head back with a soft touch. “I’ve had a few dreams about you, too.”

  Meeting his eyes, she put her hand on his chest, over his paisley tie that she’d mistakenly tied for him earlier. “You…you might want to step back.”

  He ran a finger down her cheek. “Because you’re finding it hard not to kiss me right now? Because, honestly, I’m finding it hard not—”

  “Nope, that wouldn’t be the reason.” She looked back down and couldn’t stop herself from smiling. “It’s because Goodwill is peeing all over your shoe. And if I don’t find a bathroom soon, I might join him.”

  “You want one more?” Lola asked.

  “No, three soft tacos is my limit.”

  A smile started in her eyes and spilled onto her lips. “That one is number four.” Reaching over, she gave him a refill. She had already filled a large to-go cup with coffee for him to take for Donald. Little did she know that the man wouldn’t be savoring it. Joey cut a glance back to the car, not sure what he expected to see. Donald was dead. He’d recognized that look.

  “You worry about your friend,” Lola said. “You good man.”

  Not really, he knew. What Lola would think of him if she knew the truth—that he was a good-for-nothing bouncer/ bodyguard who people paid to be a bully? Every time she smiled at him, he felt as if someone reached in and squeezed his heart. “I’ve eaten four tacos? No wonder I’m full.”

  He’d pulled a stool up to the counter, and they’d spent the last half-hour talking. She did most, whi
le Joey ate, but that was fine with him. He liked listening to her. Once or twice she’d reverted back to her native language, but between his Spanish and her English they’d communicated just fine. Joey learned the roach coach belonged to her brother-in-law. That her sister was watching Lola’s four-year-old daughter and Lola’s young nephew.

  Lola had eagerly shown him pictures of the child, saying, “She’s a good girl. And smart. I make her speak English.” The dark-eyed child looked a lot like her mama. When Joey asked about the girl’s father, Lola said he was the man she’d left in Mexico—the man who liked to drink too much.

  Lola didn’t tell him, but Joey guessed she was here illegally. That would explain why she’d been so nervous with the state trooper. That, and because the man had undressed her with his eyes. Which suggested to Joey that the officer might be trying to pressure Lola into giving him some off-the-menu service.

  “That trooper,” Joey said. “Is he causing you trouble?”

  The smile in her eyes faded. “He’s not a good man. But I not let him be too much trouble.”

  Joey recalled the man’s size, and he knew if that jerk decided to force himself on Lola she probably wouldn’t be able to stop him. A few memories of hearing his mom manhandled played in his mind. His fist tightened around his fork.

  “Maybe you could see if your brother-in-law will come with you to work here? Just in case,” he suggested.

  Lola shook her head. “He work in concrete, too.”

  “Oh.” Joey wanted to add something else about her not being out here alone, but didn’t think it was his right. So he just smiled and tried to hide his concern. “You make a darn good taco.”

  “Thank you,” she said, as if she wasn’t accustomed to compliments. “But this not really good food. When I cook at home…” She continued to talk about cooking big meals and about her family in Mexico.

  Picking up his coffee cup, he noticed a magazine on the counter behind Lola—a bird magazine. The same one he had in his briefcase in the car. And he recalled what she’d said earlier. So when she stopped talking he asked, “You like birds?” He pointed to the magazine.

  “Si. I…watch for them. It gives me something to do when I do not have customers. I usually bring birdseed. They come to eat and entertain me. But I run out of food and not go to store yet. You like birds, too?”

  She looked surprised, and Joey remembered how most people thought an interest in birds made a man queer. Not wanting her to think that, he shook his head. “Not really.”

  His embarrassment was interrupted by the ringing of Donald’s phone, which Joey just barely heard again. Someone had been calling every four or five minutes, probably the same person who’d called and given Donald the address to this place. It was probably Lorenzo’s contact here. Or maybe it was even Lorenzo himself. But, damn it, Joey still didn’t know what he was going to do. He had to figure that out soon.

  He glanced back at the car. “I guess I’d better be going.” He pulled out his wallet.

  “No. I give you the food,” she said. “Because…” She hesitated, as if shy. “Because your friend fall down, I not charge you.”

  “Please. His falling down wasn’t your fault.” Joey pushed a fifty at her.

  “No.” She pushed it back. “I…enjoy talking to you, Mr…” She pressed a hand over her lips. “Ahh, I don’t even know your name. How rude of me, I do not even ask your name.”

  “Joey Hinkle.” Joey held out his hand. “And you haven’t been rude.” She reached out, and when her small warm palm pressed against his a jolt of emotion shot up his arm. Not bad emotion but nice. So nice that he didn’t want to let go of her hand.

  “It has been very nice to meet you, Senor Hinkle.” Those gorgeous eyes twinkled with a smile, and slowly she pulled her hand away, giving a shy expression that reminded him of his slightly more innocent youth. It made his heart beat faster.

  “Call me Joey. Please.”

  “Joey,” she repeated. She had a bit of trouble pronouncing the J, but the way she said it sounded so…nice.

  “You come back, si?” she asked.

  He almost told her he didn’t live nearby. That he probably wouldn’t be back. But something stopped him. Maybe it was because he didn’t want to disappoint her.

  The thought almost made him laugh. Why would his not returning disappoint her? He was nobody to her. “I…Maybe.”

  He stared at her, and that’s when it hit him that she must really like him to not let him pay for his food; from all appearances, she didn’t make a lot of money. It had been a long time since Joey felt as if anyone cared about him. People noticed him because he was big, but they rarely showed signs of caring about him one way or the other. It wasn’t always their fault; he’d been accused by a lot of people of not being very social.

  His own phone rang. Shit. They couldn’t reach Donald, and now they were calling him. What the hell would he tell them?

  “Your phone, yes?” said Lola.

  “Yes.” He nodded and pulled it out of his pocket.

  The look on Luke’s face when he saw the puppy’s hiked-up leg brought a chuckle to Kathy’s lips.

  “Damn!” Luke jumped back, and a healthy stream struck the exact spot where his shoe had been. Kathy laughed so hard that she found herself leaning against him. Leaning against him felt awesome, too. “You enjoyed that,” he accused, but his accusation sounded playful.

  “Maybe,” she admitted. The swelling in his eye had gone down, but he still had a bit of a shiner. She reached up and touched the bruise. “Does it hurt?”

  “No.”

  He continued to stare at her. The closeness of his body to hers caused a rush of tingles to play chase in some private places. Kathy went to step back, but he wrapped an arm around her and tugged her close—so close that her breasts, still tingling, melted against his chest and her heart skipped a few beats. Her nipples tightened. He leaned in, and his five-o’clock shadow brushed against her cheek. The temptation to press her mouth to his played like soft music in her mind. The memory of how he’d tasted this morning had her gravitating closer.

  Their noses brushed. “Did you know your eyes change color when you laugh?” Luke murmured. His breath brushed her mouth. “The green and gold specks meld and mesh, and it’s like looking into a kaleidoscope. I can’t help but wonder if they change colors when you…do other things.”

  “What things?” she asked, knowing full well what he meant.

  “Probably the things we were doing in your dreams.”

  When she didn’t deny it, his lips touched hers. She closed her eyes, and his tongue slipped inside her mouth.

  Oh, sure, there was a little voice inside her that said she should stop him. Instead, she reached up and cupped her hand behind his head, threaded her fingers through his soft, dark hair and met his tongue with her own.

  “Howdy!” a friendly voice called. “Can I help you love-birds?”

  Kathy broke the kiss, but Luke’s hand snaked around her waist and he held her against him. “Just keep on doing what you’re doing,” he whispered.

  What she was doing? “I wasn’t…” She hadn’t been doing anything but responding to him. And hadn’t she told herself she wasn’t going to respond to him anymore? Holy crap, what was wrong with her? She was about to steal a car, and instead of thinking about that, she was making out with her partner in crime. “Let me go,” she muttered.

  He studied her, then dropped his hand and swung around to meet the salesman. “Hello,” he said, and shook the middleaged guy’s hand. “Name’s David Bradford. My wife, Kate, and I are just looking for a second ride.”

  “I’m Harry Johnson.” The salesman dropped his hand into the pocket of his navy trousers. “I saw the way you were eyeing the red Chevy truck.”

  He gave Kathy a friendly nod. Friendly. Guilt bloomed in her chest. This beer-bellied older man was being nice, and she was about to become his worst nightmare. She remembered Luke had his gun. Surely he wouldn’t use it, would he? Oh
, gawd! She was about to become accessory to grand theft auto. Just because he had a badge, it didn’t give him a license to steal.

  “Did you have to teach him a lesson?” the salesman asked in a teasing voice, pointing to Luke’s eye.

  Kathy attempted a smile, guilt zipping around her insides like a trapped bird. “No, he…”

  “I had to teach a few other guys some manners,” Luke explained. He looked back at the Chevy. “I’d love a truck, but I promised to let her pick it out, and I think she’s got her eye on that Dodge Charger.” He reached out and took Kathy’s hand and pulled her close. “She’s got good taste, don’t you think?”

  The man grinned. “I’d say both of you do. You’re a lucky fella to get such a pretty girl to marry you.”

  “Well, it wasn’t easy. Took me over four years before she’d give me the time of day. And I even worked for her old man.”

  They walked over to the Dodge Charger. Kathy’s first reaction to their made-up past was amusement, a thought that, considering Luke’s current role, her father might indeed have hired him. He would have respected a car thief. Then the lies and the easy way they slipped from Luke’s lips ran like rough sandpaper over her scruples—especially when she remembered he’d lied to her much the same way. She wondered if anything he’d told her during the last two and a half years was the truth. She recalled the few personal tidbits he’d shared: His sister and her kids had been killed in a car wreck. He’d lost his mom at an early age.

  Had he lied to her about everything? She hadn’t even known his real name until recently. And how did she know Luke Hunter was his real name? She didn’t.

  And yet, she believed him. She wanted to believe him. Even knowing he was a law-enforcement officer hadn’t changed her core feelings. Here she stood, trusting Luke. Even knowing he’d lied to her, even knowing he was a cop. She had damn good reasons to never trust another cop. Sure, she accepted her friends’ husbands and their friends, but she kept her distance. And while she agreed that her father wouldn’t have won any daddy awards, his wrongs didn’t make the police right. She knew, because she’d seen what happened.

  She glanced at the puppy nipping at her shoe laces, then up at Luke through her lashes. She remembered seeing him with Tommy over the past few years, the gentle way he’d won over her shy son. Right or wrong, she trusted Luke Hunter. She trusted Luke on a gut level. But what if her gut was wrong?