by Dani Collins
When he would have come up for air, she held him in place, brought her own tongue into play and made sure he knew exactly how easy she planned to be.
After a moment, he lifted his head. “How naked do I have to get?”
“We’re going all the way.”
“Oh, God.”
11:59 p.m.
Con watched Spence step out of the van and noted that his pilot was moving like all his joints were well oiled. Spencer turned to help Laila out, murmuring something that made her smile. She started to respond, but her gaze drifted beyond him, connected with Con’s, shifted into cool dismissal, then slid past his shoulder and widened in horror. Murphy had his camera pointed at her.
“They were probably editing,” Con said to Murphy, not bothering to hide his grin. “Making some last-minute notes. Or checking the service record on the van, maybe? What d’you think?”
“I’m siding with Aldous Huxley. ‘Facts do not cease to exist because they are ignored.’”
“Not a good career move, Murph,” Laila warned.
Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, Spencer leveled a look at Con. He might have been self-conscious under there somewhere, but he was in protection mode now.
Blocking the camera with his palm, Con said, “I just wanted to thank Laila for going to the police.”
“Hey, no fingerprints! It wasn’t even on.” Murphy jerked away.
“What?” Laila said breathlessly.
“I was messing with you,” Murphy said.
“No, what did you say?” she asked Con.
“I said I was looking for you, to thank you.”
“Oh. You’re welcome.” She shifted, subtly cuddling further into Spencer’s embrace.
“Laila needs to be in Salt Lake City tomorrow morning,” Spencer said. “I thought I’d give her a lift in the chopper.”
“What?” Laila stared at him, dumbfounded.
A dozen off-color remarks about the lift Spencer appeared to have just given her sprang to mind. Con held his tongue. There was more going on here than a quickie in a van. He resigned himself to seeing more of Laila and treating her with respect.
At least she was interesting.
“Let me find out what Renny wants to do. After that, the chopper’s yours,” Con said.
“You mean that?” Laila was trembling like a little girl at Christmas.
Con chuckled. “What can I say? Love makes a man soft in the head.” Oops, he hadn’t meant that to come out. Ignoring Spencer’s goofy smile, he asked, “Have you seen Renny?”
“She’s over there, canoodling with your competition.”
Con followed Laila’s pointed finger down the street and saw Renny, silhouetted by a headlight, talking with Jacob, her hand on his arm, her face tilted up appealingly.
He reminded himself that he couldn’t cope with routine, that he might want to be a father someday, but had no idea if he’d make a good one. His boisterous personality tested all his relationships and would surely erode whatever feelings Renny had for him. She’d been kidnapped today, twice, because he insisted on excitement. He had no right to expect her to want to spend the rest of her life with him. If he really loved her, he would back off and let her choose the man, and the life, she wanted. If he really loved her, he’d quit playing games.
Too bad he’d never been a quitter.
11:59 p.m.
Jacob wore a ghost of a smile. “I don’t care if you’re impulsive. I’m fascinated by this side of you. Please marry me.” He folded her hand around his ring.
“Jacob—” Renny’s throat closed. This wasn’t going the way she had planned. “I do bad things like . . . ” She waved toward the door of the spa.
Actually, the things she had done today weren’t that bad. Crazy, maybe, but not bad. She had stopped Felix and his victims would be compensated. Viewed in the right light, she was a champion of justice. Okay, that was a bit much, but the fact remained, she wasn’t bad. She might make mistakes, but she would never intentionally victimize people for profit. That made her one of the good guys.
“You’re not bad, Renny,” Jacob reassured her tenderly.
“Maybe not. But we’re wrong for each other.”
Con came to stand beside her. “I sent Spencer to warm up the chopper. Figured you’d be anxious to get to Gran’s.”
Her shock was quickly followed by pain as Renny absorbed Con’s offer.
“That’s very helpful of you, Con,” Jacob said cautiously.
“I try. And, along those lines, let me give you some advice. If you want to spend your life with a woman like Renny, forget the ring and buy a leash. A short one.”
Relief poured through her. He was going to behave like an ass. Thank God.
“A leash?” she repeated, indignant.
“Not for sex, dirty mind.”
“Go away. This is a private conversation.”
Con ignored her. “See? She’s very headstrong. But you know what they say. If you want high performance, you have to expect high maintenance.”
“What are you doing?” she asked Con.
“What, with my hand? There’s a hole in my pocket.”
“No, I mean, why are you talking like this about me?”
“I’m imparting wise words to your future husband.”
“No, you’re not. You’re pretending that’s what you’re doing, but you’re actually trying to sabotage what you perceive as a reunion. You are absolutely obsessed when it comes to winning, aren’t you?”
“So it’s not a reunion? I did win?”
“Would you quit getting in my way and let me do one thing right today?”
“I let you go with Ty. I’m all out of compromise.”
With an exasperated sigh, she looked at Jacob. “I’m sorry I can’t marry you. Please accept your ring back.” She pressed it into his hand, gave him an apologetic kiss and walked away.
“So I did win.” Con was following her.
She smiled as she looked around and got her bearings. She was on the far end of the park in the center of town. She quickened her step.
“Where are you going?”
She crossed the grass, heels slowing her as they dug into the dewy field, but she managed to stay ahead of him because he only walked fast enough to keep up.
“See? You’re high maintenance. Normal women wait nicely and talk things out.”
“Normal women are dealing with normal men,” she said over her shoulder. It was a lot darker here than she had expected. A black shape loomed ahead. Almost there. She was cold, but she quickly warmed when she sprinted toward the opening in the maze.
“You’re playing hard to get, again.”
“I told you. I am hard to get.”
“I get you,” he assured her. “I know you right down to the little red blood cells that are currently laughing their asses off because you’re making me chase you.”
Stupid move, coming in here, she thought, stumbling into the rough wall of hedge. It rose two feet above her head and gave off the sweet scent of cedar. She zig-zagged around several corners, ensuring he wouldn’t be able follow the glow of Murphy’s yellow Bart Simpson sweatshirt in the moonlight.
“Where’d you go? Oh, cookie.” He sounded very pleased.
Covering her mouth, she stifled a laugh and stumbled around another corner, tucking herself into a blind alley while she caught her breath and listened for the crunch of his footstep.
“I forgive you for making me chase you.” He spoke from the other side of the maze.
“I’m not making you do anything. I’ve never wanted you to do anything you didn’t want to do.”
“We’re talking about marriage again, right?” He sounded closer.
She thought back on her conversation with Tyrone and saw it had been more truth than con. Respect did start inside a person. A ring and a piece of paper weren’t going to guarantee Con loved her, but if she cultivated her newly sprouted self-worth, he wouldn’t treat her with anything but respect, because sh
e wouldn’t allow anything less.
“What you don’t understand,” she said softly, “is that if you don’t want to marry me, then I don’t want to marry you. I won’t stay in this relationship unless we’re evenly matched in the emotional investment department.”
“And you don’t think we are? That’s why you’re hiding from me?”
“I’m not hiding. I thought you’d like it here.” She let out a long breath. “The moon looks pretty.”
A hand came through the trees and grabbed her arm.
She screamed, then laughed as he pushed through the hedge to stand in front of her.
“You’re cheating.” She covered her racing heart.
“Playing by your rules.” He ran his hands up and down her arms. “I love you.”
A sweetness rose in her so sharply it made her teeth ache. She had known he loved her when he had tried to save her life, twice, but hearing it was good. Very, very good. A solid belief settled in her that she and Con would spend the rest of their lives together. As the certainty took hold, her view of marriage shifted. Marriage wasn’t a certification of personal merit. It was a formal agreement of a partnership. A conventional agreement. Con wasn’t conventional and neither was she.
“You going to punish me some more and refuse to say it back?” Con asked.
“I’ll say something better. You win. I want to be with you. That’s not going to change with a piece of paper or a chunk of rock.”
She waited for his kiss. It didn’t come.
He frowned.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. How do we get out of here?” He took her hand, led her down the corridor between the trees and waited for her to indicate a path. The warmth of his hand was comforting, easing the nerves that might have otherwise gone tense as she worried about his lack of triumph over wearing her down to the point of surrender.
They were together. They would be together for the foreseeable future. Out of self-protection, she shifted to light banter, pretending she hadn’t just offered her heart and he hadn’t just ignored it.
“What do you want to do now? I’m tired, but I’d be up for a hand of canasta,” she said as she led him through the maze.
“A funny thing happened to me today,” he said, but he didn’t sound amused.
“Yeah? I had an interesting day, too. You go first.”
His grip on her hand tightened. “This way?” he asked. “The ground is worn.”
“No, this way.” She showed him the bench she and Mona had found in the center of the maze. They sat down.
“Pretty,” he said, holding her hand between his own.
She looked up at the pale aspen leaves fluttering in the moonlight against the stars in the clear sky.
“It is,” she agreed.
“I mean you.”
“Oh.” She leaned into his shoulder, pleased.
“You know, the whole six months we were apart, I didn’t exactly dwell on you being with other men, but today I realized I really hate the idea.”
“That’s very conventional of you, Con.”
“I hear that.” He didn’t say anything else for a long minute.
“Would you rather play gin rummy? Crazy eights, right? You’re holding out for crazy eights.” He was holding out for something, squeezing her hand like that. She squeezed back, tense with nerves.
“We make a good team, don’t you think?” he asked.
“We make a great team, but you don’t do partners, except in bridge. Are you thinking bridge? Tyrone and Sergio might be up for it.” It was hard to talk.
“Renny, I’m already committed to a lifetime of monogamy with you. I clued in to that when I was bored with every woman I met after you. And you were right. I see everyone as an opponent, but a lot of women have set marriage traps for me. You can’t blame me for fearing you were one of them.”
“I told you, I’m not fixated on marriage anymore. As long as we have fun—”
“Thinking I was going to lose you wasn’t fun.”
“You’re hurting my hand.”
He relaxed his grip and kissed her knuckle, but retained her hand. “I always saw marriage as the end of the game, when all the pieces got put back in the box. I like your vision of us as teammates, working around the board together.”
“Me, too.”
“We won a helluva game today, don’t you think?”
“Oh, yeah. Championship level, in my opinion.” The backs of her eyes prickled.
“I’m thinking we should recognize the moment.”
“I’m sure we could find a trophy shop in the morning.” Her mouth wanted to smile, but her lips were trembling.
“Or we could wear rings.”
“This is really hard for you, isn’t it?”
“You’re not making it easy.” They were squeezing each other’s hands again, hurting, but laughing too. “Are you going to quit torturing me with talk of bridge and canasta and tell me yes?” he asked.
“You want my answer before you ask the question? Not likely.” She gulped back happy tears.
“Okay, I’ll ask.” He straightened his leg so he could get something out of his pocket, then showed her the ring he’d bought that morning.
She held her breath.
He tilted so his forehead rested on hers. “You love me, right?”
“Would I be here if I didn’t? Of course I love you.”
“Thanks. I needed that.” He smiled, but still didn’t ask.
“I’m thinking Las Vegas,” she said in a voice that caught. “We could do it tonight, before you lose your nerve.”
“I’m not going to lose my nerve. Will you marry me?”
She could hardly speak, her mouth was smiling so wide. “I’m game.”
8:17 a.m., Saturday
Jacob walked into Mona’s kitchen and headed straight for the coffee he had smelled from the top of the stairs.
She already had one steaming beside her elbow. She was playing solitaire but folded the game and pushed the deck and cribbage board to the center of the table.
He sat opposite her and cut the deck, showed her the card. She did the same, won the deal and took the deck to shuffle.
“Did I hear the phone. Was it them?” he asked when the first traces of caffeine began activating his brain cells.
“They’re in Las Vegas.” She beamed. “Married. Con promised they’d be back this afternoon, so the reception is still on.”
It pleased Jacob that he’d pleased her. Mona Burke was the most generous person he’d ever met and even though he had fallen a little in love with Renny, he would die for this dear lady.
“You look like you could use more sleep,” she remarked.
He had collapsed on his bed in the wee hours after giving her the briefest of explanations. He wore yesterday’s clothes and hadn’t shaved. His feet were bare. “Not a good look for the first day of work, is it? I’m hired, right? They’re married, so I passed probation?”
“With honors.” She patted his hand. “And see how misplaced your concern was about Felix? I told you they wouldn’t be able to resist stopping him, and it wasn’t dangerous at all, was it?”
He thought about how hair-raising yesterday’s antics had been. No, he decided, he couldn’t worry her be being honest.
“Do you think they’ll be angry when they realize how much of a shill I was?” he asked through the fragrant steam of his coffee.
Mona dismissed his concern with a wave of her hand. “They both appreciate there are times when a little chicanery is the right thing to do.”
THE END
______
Author Bio
A mostly failed gardener and golfer, Dani puts her effort into being a good wife, mother, and writer, although the jury is still out on the first two. Her family doesn’t see her much as she writes most mornings, evenings, and weekends. She occasionally cooks dinner or throws on a load of laundry to prove her love and has been married to her high school sweetheart longer than she
’s been writing, so they seem to have a shot at medaling. If she ever gets this writing gig to pay, she’s sure that’ll clinch it.
Dani would love to hear from you! Email her through her website at www.danicollins.com, look for her on Twitter @DaniCollinsBook or visit her on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/DaniCollinsAuthor.
Copyright
Copyright © 2012 By Dani Collins
All Rights Returned to the Author
All Rights Reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced, downloaded, transmitted, decompiled, reverse engineered, stored in or introduced to any information storage and retrieval system, in any form, whether electronic or mechanical without the author’s written permission. Scanning, uploading or distribution of this book via the Internet or any other means without permission is prohibited.
Please purchase only authorized electronic versions, and do not participate in, or encourage pirated electronic versions
eBook by Ink Lion Books
Cover by Lyndsey Lewellen
ISBN-13:978-0991734900
Table Of Contents
8:17 a.m., Friday
12:26 p.m.
2:39 p.m.
5:03 p.m.
9:30 p.m.
8:17 a.m., Saturday
Author Bio
Copyright
Table of Contents
8:17 a.m., Friday 8:33 a.m.
10:41 a.m.
10:45 a.m.
11:01 a.m.
11:40 a.m.
12:26 p.m. 12:42 p.m.
1:22 p.m.
1:47 p.m.
1:38 p.m.
1:45 p.m.
2:15 p.m.
2:26 p.m.
2:28 p.m.
2:39 p.m. 2:45 p.m.