Glass Houses

by Stella Cameron

  Aiden parked, got out, and stretched. The air delivered a cold blow, reminding him that his feet were bare inside his sandals and the jacket was too threadbare to be much protection against the weather.

  Olivia wore the cotton sweater and linen jacket. Unwilling as he was to accept complete responsibility for this all-but-helpless foreign woman, he did feel that responsibility. The heater in the Rover was one of the things that hadn’t been brought up to full function. Geez, a little more planning and there could have been blankets and a pillow in there for her. She had to have more clothes—and so did he. Nothing could be done about that till morning, when he’d make sure they found a small town with some sort of store.

  “Come on, Boswell,” he heard Olivia say. “Let’s go over here and attend to things. Good boy. Such a good boy.”

  He turned and saw her trotting, albeit stiffly and with Boss at her side, toward a dark area. He didn’t want her off anywhere on her own, not even with the dog, and he followed at a distance, flexing his shoulders as he went.

  More compliments were showered on his no-good canine before Olivia headed back toward Aiden.

  Olivia saw something move. She stood still and reached for Boswell’s collar. “It’s all right, boy,” she told him. “I’ll take care of you.” A big shadow blocked out the light from the cafe. The shadow moved toward her.

  Aiden’s shout of laughter brought enough relief to turn her knees rubbery. “Just me,” he said. “You’re going to take care of Boss? That’s cute. You’re cute. Come on, let’s eat. And don’t wander off without me again—not even a short distance.”

  She didn’t argue with him or try to explain that she was only reacting out of shock, and he shouldn’t shock her in future because she’d been known to become unpredictable under such circumstances.

  “Aiden,” she said, catching up. “We’re in a real fix, aren’t we?”

  Unless he was overreacting, which he didn’t tend to do, they were in something more than a “real fix.” “We’re going to be careful,” he told her. “If you can put some faith in my experience, I’ll try not to let you down. And we’re going to get help from a guy who is the best, absolutely the best.”

  “Chris Talon?”

  “Yep.” Although he’d watched the road behind them all day and into the night, he’d seen no sign of anyone who might be following, and they hadn’t been buzzed by any aircraft. But he’d never had a stronger sensation of being followed. “It was a good idea to stop. We both need to stretch our legs. Bring your bag. If it seems okay, I’ll take a look at those shots of yours.”

  With Boss stationed outside the door of Want To?, Aiden automatically rested a hand at Olivia’s waist when they entered the diner.

  She shouldn’t like the warmth of his hand so much. She absolutely should not have unbalanced thoughts about preferring this, being with him even under dangerous circumstances, to the quiet existence she’d always lived.

  “Whoa!” The shout came from a tall, extremely thin man in a white shirt and trousers, white apron, with a round whitepaper hat on the back of a head of thick black hair. His face was deeply lined, and his brows overhung dark eyes. “You two just took ten years off a fella’s life. What the Sam Hill you doin’ in the middle of nowhere at this time of night?”

  “Sign on the highway says you’re expecting us.” Aiden pulled Olivia to his side. “We’re just passing through. Been driving a long time. Any chance of some hot coffee and whatever you’ve got to fill two empty stomachs?”

  “Wait till Dierdre hears about this,” the man said. He laced his hands around the handle of the broom he’d been using. “She’s goin’ to be so bummed out she missed ya. Don’t get no one out here at night. Almost never. Except for when people wants a cabin. Daytime is different. But those folks don’t want to come back here this time of night. Too lonely. Come on over and take a booth. Make yourselves comfortable. I’m Cal, Dierdre’s boyfriend.”

  By Olivia’s calculations, despite a pretty good dye job on his hair and eyebrows, Cal must be pushing seventy. She’d really like to see Dierdre. Aiden led her to the booth Cal indicated and waited until she was seated before slipping in opposite.

  Cal went to the counter, returned, and plopped down two glasses of water, two mugs, and a palmful of small cream containers. He filled the mugs with coffee. He’d carried everything in his two large hands and finished by pulling several packets of crackers from a pocket in his apron and tossing them on the table. “You’re probably peckish,” he said. “Nibble on those to get you going.”

  The menus were under his arms. These he spread, one before each of them, with some ceremony. “How long you been driving?”

  “Fourteen, almost fifteen hours,” Olivia told him.

  “Yeah.” He closed the menus again and removed them. “You look it. Both of you. Got some of the best black bean chili you ever had the honor to get a whiff of. I’ll start you off with that. Stick it to your insides. Then we’ll talk about givin’ you some choices. Mebbe.”

  He left them, and Aiden rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “You meet the craziest good people out in the sticks.”

  Olivia said, “Yes, and the nicest,” and felt them run out of things to say.

  She had that slightly tousled thing about her again. Soft and sleepy. Aiden hadn’t seen darker eyes that he remembered, or eyes that had the same mix of brilliance and innocence. Not that she was dumb. No, sir, not this woman. Just out of her depth and walking on quicksand, foreign quicksand.

  Irritation had swept at him in eddies ever since he’d met her at JFK, but they’d gotten farther apart. The initial instinct to encourage her to make the trip, and to want to meet her, still bemused him. For a man who avoided personal attachments, his behavior had been over the top. Still was.

  He liked being with her.

  Kissing her hadn’t been a chore. The thought was dangerous. It brought him close to laughing and awakened the sexy reaction he already knew she could arouse in him.

  Olivia opened a packet of crackers and ate one. His five o’clock shadow was darker than she’d have expected given his light hair. His eyes were on her. She checked her mouth for crumbs.

  Ice clinked and she glanced up. He drank water, looking down at her over the glass.

  She really liked the single gold earring he wore in his left ear. Strange, since she usually disapproved of such things.

  They made jokes about Americans having perfect teeth. She didn’t find anything funny about Aiden’s teeth, or his mouth. She had the sensation that she felt his lips on hers again, and rolled her own together, capturing that touch.

  He put down the glass and ran a forefinger around the rim. He turned his face aside and bowed his head. Then he looked sideways at her through his spiky lashes.

  Olivia drew short breaths. Lean and long, tough-cut but sensitive, his features weren’t classic but they went together in a way that scrambled every sensible thought she might have had.

  Again he looked away, and again his brilliant blue gaze returned like some sort of seek-and-destroy weapon.

  She couldn’t keep on looking at his face.

  Without the jacket, his shoulders bulged beneath his soft denim shirt. There was a suggestion of hair at the open neck. He’d rolled back his cuffs over forearms she’d like to touch. His hands were all male, broad across the prominent knuckles, the backs covered with a tracing of bronzed hair—and scars that had to have a story. They were expressive hands, as well as capable.

  Olivia loved men’s hands if they were nice. Aiden’s were more than nice. She thought about how they might feel on her skin if he really wanted them there.

  He’d felt sexual tension enough times, but this was different, this was electric, and he had become more engaged than the usual. Great. Perfect timing. He stirred and made to get up. “Boss needs water.”

  Stinging all over, wobbly in her tummy, Olivia rose promptly, her glass in hand, and headed for the door.

  “I got it,” C
al shouted. “He’s got a bowl and a blanket. He’s havin’ a good ol’ time.”

  Olivia returned to the booth, aware of Aiden watching every move she made.

  She had a walk, what a walk. Maybe it was because she was walking slowly, looking at him, almost telegraphing that she felt the same physical connection he felt. “Cream in your coffee?” he said, and poured in the contents of two containers anyway. “You had cream at Mama’s. Juice might be good. Give us some quick energy.” He felt more edgy than tired, and as aroused as hell, but despite all the right signals in her eyes, Olivia’s wan features worried him. All he needed was a sick woman on his hands, a sick woman he wanted to sleep with.

  She put her elbows on the table and propped her fists under her chin. “Now,” she said. “I know you’ve told me. I think you have, anyway. But would you spell out for me exactly why we’re doing what we’re doing?”

  “I have told you.” He saw the door open an inch and carefully slid his hand to the butt of his gun. “But I’ll tell you again, because I like you.” He forced a smile. Keeping her from overreacting was essential.

  She smiled back at him. Damn, but she had the best smile. How many women had he met with the kind of open, grateful smile that made him feel they didn’t have any hidden agenda?

  None, except maybe Vanni’s sisters, who thought of themselves as Aiden’s sisters, too.

  The door eased open a little more.

  “You’re such a nice man, Aiden. I do know I’ve pulled you into all this, you know. You didn’t have to try to help me. I’ve really made life hard for you.”

  “Try not to call me nice again, Olivia. Salads are nice sometimes. Soups can be nice. An ice cream is a nice way to finish a meal, especially on a hot day. An inoffensive but ordinary pair of shoes is nice enough. I’m not nice, ma’am. I can find people who will tell you just how nice I’m not.”

  Still she smiled; in fact, her eyes sparkled with the intensity of that smile. “You were going to tell me something.”

  Yeah, he thought, and someone’s trying to come in here without giving advance notice. He leaned forward, allowing himself a good hold on the gun, and easing it from his waist. “We’re getting away from New York because Ryan Hill has pulled off the feat of turning the entire NYPD against me. He has them thinking I’m a criminal, and that you’re a criminal, too. With Vanni’s help in New York, and Chris’s help in Seattle, I think I can get the evidence I need to bring us out winners, wrap this case up, and leave Ryan Hill in jail afterwards. With Fats Lemon, if he’s an accomplice, and I think he is. Traveling, staying on the move, is the only solution I can come up with that’ll give me a chance to do my job and not be stopped. If I’m locked up, I’m stopped, Olivia, with a capital S.”

  Aiden was on his feet and braced when the door opened all the way.

  Olivia kept her mouth shut, but swung around in her seat. No one came in.

  He edged sideways from the booth. “Put your head down,” he ordered Olivia. “Keep it down.”

  A glance showed Cal with his back to them and working over a steaming pot.

  Without incident, Aiden made it all the way to the booth nearest the door. “Shit,” he said, and slammed the hand that held the gun over his heart. Boss lay on the floor, his head on his paws, with a look in his eyes that swore he needed anti-depressants. “Darn you, buddy,” Aiden said and sank to his knees. “How come you’ve turned into something like a lap dog? What happened to all that training?”

  “Guess he got old like the rest of us around here.”

  Aiden shot to his feet, gun at the ready again, and confronted a woman who didn’t reach his shoulders. Her breadth pretty much matched her height, and the gravelly voice he’d heard went well with a flat, masculine face onto which the lady had applied liberal paint. Her tight platinum curls were held in place by a black net decorated with tiny colored beads.

  “You gonna shoot me, cutie?” she said, grinning as if the idea appealed. “That’d liven things up a bit around here. Probably be good for business. What do you say, Cal?”

  Cal had approached, bearing a steaming bowl in each hand. “Don’t you hurt my Dierdre,” he said, and his voice shook. “You need someone for target practice, use me. Just don’t hurt Dierdre.”

  Embarrassed, Aiden put the weapon away. “Sorry,” he said. “Habit. Blame him.” He pointed at Boss, who was attempting to make his way toward Olivia.

  “You’re a cop, ain’t ya?” Cal said. “I thought you was when you come in. Then there was the dog.”

  “No,” Aiden said. “Just a man who carries a gun for protection.”

  “If you say so,” Cal said, but didn’t sound convinced.

  “He does say so,” Dierdre announced. “Came back to check up on you, Cal. I was going to suggest you close up early.”

  Aiden wondered what these people considered late. “What’s he feeding you?” she asked Aiden, and sniffed. “Black-bean chili. Good start. You been traveling awhile, I see. Eat. Then we’ll see to fixing you up with a place to stay. Get something aired out.”

  “Um, well, we weren’t actually thinking—”

  “Eat,” Dierdre interrupted. “Don’t give ’em any booze, Cal. Not till they’ve eaten. Don’t want ’em falling asleep in their plates.”

  At last Aiden returned to the booth and sat down in front of his bowl. Olivia, an annoyingly amused grin on her face, had dispensed with manners and eaten almost half of her own chili. Boss sat sideways beside her. He wouldn’t have fit any other way.

  “What the hell’s gotten into you, Boss?” Aiden said. “Down.”

  “Please leave him,” Olivia said. “Stop trying to control the world and eat. Please, Aiden.”

  “The dog’s fine,” Cal yelled.

  “I know when I’m beaten,” Aiden said and found that the chili tasted better than any he’d had. A large platter of bread coated with melted cheese appeared in Dierdre’s hands, and she placed it between them without a word.

  Cal came to refill coffee and drop another heap of cream containers.

  “Don’t you get travelers at night all the time?” Aiden asked. “You can’t treat them all like returning prodigals.”

  “We’ve been here thirty-five years,” Cal said. “Reckon both of us are pretty good judges of character. I can tell two things about you. You’re in trouble. And you’re good people. And a third thing is you left wherever you came from in too much of a hurry to bring what you need.” He inclined his head to look significantly at Aiden. “And four, you may not have known each other a real long time, but if you don’t already have something going, you will.”

  He walked away.

  Olivia turned hot—not an unwelcome development—and couldn’t look at Aiden.

  “He’s right about most things,” he said.

  She stirred what remained of her chili. “All but one,” she told him.

  “Yeah. You’re a good person. My character’s questionable.”

  The breath she took caused her to choke, and she gulped water.

  Dierdre left the diner, but Cal continued to push food on them. Olivia began to worry about the bill but didn’t know how to bring this up to Aiden without sounding rude.

  “You full?” he asked her quietly. “I am. I was some time ago.”

  “Really full,” she said. “I don’t suppose they’d be able to change some pounds for me?”

  “Uh-uh. I’ve got us covered.”

  “I pay my way. But thank you.” She peered into her bag, but one of Aiden’s long, tough hands descended and stopped her.

  “Not this time,” he said.

  Cal brought yet another plate, but put it in front of Boss. “Steak pie. I’d only have to throw it out, anyway.”

  Boss put a paw on the edge of the plate to anchor it and loudly sucked up the pie.

  “Don’t you have a health department around here?” Aiden said.

  “Not in the middle of the night,” Cal told him. “You gonna turn me in?”

  “
You’re a very kind man,” Olivia said. “This is only my second day in the—”

  “Olivia hasn’t done a lot of traveling by car, so this is a new experience.” He frowned at her.

  So now she was supposed to be suspicious of everyone, everyone, and make sure she didn’t give out the most unimportant information about herself.

  Dierdre reappeared. She came directly to the booth and slapped down a key. “Number seven. It’s not fancy, but it’s got the newest bed and the heater works. And the shower gets hot. Just don’t run it too long without giving it a chance to recover.”

  Olivia pulled a shutter aside and looked outside.

  “It’s three in the morning,” Dierdre went on. “Where you’re coming from and where you’re going is no business of ours. But we know good people in trouble when we see ’em. Get four hours of sleep, or just three, then get going again. You’ll do a whole lot better than if you keep going now.”

  He ought to refuse, Aiden thought, but another look at Olivia made him change his mind. “We’ll need two cabins,” he said. She wasn’t a woman who’d get cozy with a man she hardly knew.

  “Oh,” Dierdre said. “I—well, I’ll see what I can do with Number two. That’s not so bad. Maybe you should park around back? Back of the cabins? Just an idea.”

  This woman had a nose for trouble all right. “I think I will,” Aiden told her.

  “Would it be a good idea—tell me to mind my own business if you want to—but would it be a good idea if I hadn’t seen anyone like you two passing through tonight? Just in case I’m asked?”

  Aiden figured that if he agreed, he was taking a chance on these two not turning him in to the nearest law. But the only way this whole caper was likely to favor the good guys was if they took some chances.

  He’d take this chance. “It would be a good idea. Thanks.”

  “We’ll manage with just Number seven,” Olivia said, putting her nose on the window. “And we’re grateful to you for being so kind.”