Cassie had assumed Pattie was out to get her claws into Zane. She'd even said so. Oh, they'd had quite a 'discussion' before Cassie had agreed to babysit Tristan.
"Yes, it was a big adjustment," Pattie now admitted to Cassie. Her gaze moved toward Tristan, who'd just missed catching the tennis ball Danny had thrown to him. "But I'm discovering there are...compensations."
Zane raised his eyebrows. This was the first he'd heard about the plus side of Tristan's guardianship. His gaze sharpened on Pattie's face, but she looked entirely sincere...even soft.
Cassie's expression got soft, too. "He's getting to you, huh?"
Pattie appeared startled. "What? No! I mean—"
"Yeah, I know what you mean." Chuckling, Cassie took Pattie's arm. She turned her toward the tree, where the porch swing was set up. "So. Where is he at, development-wise? Toilet-trained?"
"Thank God, yes," Pattie replied. Then she allowed herself to be led along, in more ways than one, as Cassie continued the questions, and she went on answering. Both women left Zane pointedly behind.
He narrowed his eyes, huffed, and turned to find Layla gazing up at him, her blue eyes wide. She looked as if she, too, couldn't believe Pattie was chatting about Tristan's slim diet while Cassie was laughing sympathetically.
"Don't ask me to explain," Zane muttered down to the child.
"Pee!" Layla exclaimed.
Fortunately, Zane knew the kid meant "play." He knelt beside her and cupped his hand around a partly denuded dandelion.
"L-l! L-l!" Layla demanded, tugging on Zane's hand.
"Pull," Zane translated, and pinched his fingers around the stem of the dandelion. He pulled.
Layla chortled happily and grabbed for the mangled dandelion.
Zane kept his hand on it long enough to make sure Layla wasn't going to stick the thing in her mouth. Letting go, he sat back on his heels.
From the corner of his eye, he could see his sister and Pattie sitting on the big swing, heads together, gabbing away. Cassie clearly didn't consider Pattie to be the witch she'd earlier presumed.
On the contrary, Cassie clearly liked Pattie. If Zane wasn't completely crazy, his sister was encouraging his employer. To feel at home. To get friendly.
And God knew what else.
Zane's stomach performed an alarmed maneuver. He jumped to his feet. "Okay!" he exclaimed.
"'Cle Zane," Layla complained.
Meanwhile the two women halted their chatter on the porch swing and turned to look at him. They wore identical expressions of annoyance.
"We had some plans for today," Zane reminded Pattie.
He'd probably put too much command in his tone, for her expression went mulish. But then she appeared to remember their objective. With a chagrined wince, she admitted, "Oh, that's right."
"Are you in a rush?" Cassie pretended she wasn't prying.
As Pattie rose from the porch swing, she turned to Cassie with a hesitant expression. "Uh...don't know how long it will take."
The evasive answer appeared hard for Pattie to make.
This was interesting, given how easily she'd brazenly lied to Zane, himself, the other day.
Suppressing a snort, Zane added his own two cents. "That's right. No telling how much we'll actually get done today."
Pattie shot him a questioning look. "What do you—? Never mind, we'll talk about it later. Meanwhile, I ought to say goodbye to Tristan."
"He's busy." Zane felt anxious to depart now. He wanted to get Pattie away from Cassie, and whatever might be developing between them.
"Best to say goodbye anyway," Cassie advised, giving Zane a strange look. "So he won't be unpleasantly surprised later."
"What I thought," Pattie grunted, slanting Zane her own strange look. She then strode toward Tristan, who was bending to pluck the tennis ball out of the long grass by the garage.
He brushed away Pattie's attempt to say goodbye as if she were a fly. "Bye!" he loudly declared. Without a second glance at her, he threw the ball toward Danny.
Pattie was grinning when she turned back in Zane's direction. Her expression was soft and indulgent.
Rather like that of a mother.
As she looked up, their eyes met. The moment felt like a slug in the stomach. All of Zane's hidden, locked away wishes and dreams swooped down and became a fist pounded in his middle.
He wanted parenthood. Damn, did he want it. How long—how long—he'd yearned for the woman he was with to wear the expression Pattie now wore. Utterly maternal. The fact she happened to be looking in Zane's direction before the expression faded gave the—undoubtedly mistaken—impression that she could possibly consider Zane for the position of father.
His underlying desire for her took a flying leap.
Drawing in a gulp of air, he grabbed for sanity. He had to remember this was Pattie walking across the lawn toward him, Pattie with her volcano-sized problems and her hurricane-sized attitude. Pattie, who he'd had to blackmail, for crissake, so she'd let him come with her to see Lonny Domino, a possible murderer.
Pattie didn't even want his help. She sure as hell didn't want him to father her children.
"Come on," Zane told her, through gritted teeth.
Pattie threw him a what's-wrong-with-you glance while Cassie called after them, "No worries. You two have a good time, now!"
Zane's jaw was too tight to answer as he opened the garage door.
~~~
Pattie's stomach knotted as she followed Zane into the big, four-car garage. Nerves had been twisting her stomach ever since she'd woken up this morning.
Going to meet a person who might be a murderer hadn't seemed so frightening when she'd first decided to confront Lonny Domino. But now that it might actually happen, she found herself embarrassingly unnerved.
Thank God, she'd had those few minutes to chat with Cassie and calm down a bit. Pattie had felt oddly comfortable with Zane's sister—with all of them.
Right now, however, she saw Zane take her car keys out of his pants pocket as if he planned to drive.
"Um, wait a minute. That's my car." It was one thing to let Zane drive because there was a screaming kid in the backseat. That was his job. But driving to meet a possible murderer was solely her responsibility.
Zane halted and looked at her. His face was dark.
Why he should look pissed, Pattie had no idea. So far, he'd gotten his own way in everything. He was coming along, his sister had charge of Tristan, and he'd forced Pattie into the passenger seat of her own car.
"My keys?" Pattie held out her hand.
Zane hesitated—Pattie couldn't believe he hesitated—but then he relinquished the keys. "Fine," he grunted. "You drive."
Clutching the keys, Pattie pressed the button to unlock the doors, then climbed into the driver's seat. As Zane went around to the other side, she realized she was getting rather pissed, herself. Pissed that she couldn't understand her own feelings.
It was one thing to experience relief when Zane had shown up at her apartment door this morning. That was understandable. Who'd want to go visit a possible murderer alone?
What wasn't as clear was why she'd felt excitement along with her relief. It was as if she were simply happy to see him.
Crazy.
Zane opened the passenger side door and shoved into the car. The air in the vehicle immediately thickened.
Pattie missed the spot for the ignition with her key. Suddenly she realized they were alone together. For the first time, really alone.
Keeping her gaze firmly on the dashboard, she managed to get the key into the ignition, and even start the motor. But she was now brilliantly aware of Zane, only a foot or so away from her: his heat, his subtle scent, the male bulk of him. Tiny vibrations hummed under her skin.
Pattie revved the car's motor. Damn. She didn't want to get aroused by him. She did not.
"Where's the garage door clicker?" she asked.
"Here." He plucked it out of the spot between the two front seats.
High voltage arced between them.
"Thanks," Pattie muttered. Carefully, she took the gadget from his hand. Even more carefully, she detached her gaze from his. She felt like she was handling dynamite here.
Neither of them said a word as Pattie drove back to the freeway and got on. Apparently neither of them wanted to set off the explosives hovering in the air between them.
It wasn't until Pattie had exited the freeway and was on her way up Mulholland that Zane broke the silence. "I want to set some ground rules," he proclaimed.
Pattie arched her eyebrows. Did he think just because he'd forced his way onto this jaunt, he was now in charge of it? Even if he probably was? Frostily, she inquired, "Such as?"
Zane ignored her warning chill. "We don't know what we're going to run into here. Lonny Domino has already demonstrated comfort with at least some level of violence. I suggest extreme caution."
"What do you mean?" Pattie slowed as they drew closer to the gated driveway they'd found on their car chase.
"I mean we probably shouldn't even try to talk to Domino today. It might be better to scope out the property, talk to her neighbors, then decide what's best to do next. This lady could be, you know, who you're looking for." Zane shook his head. "If we make her feel threatened, she might do something...crazy."
Pattie pulled the car to the side of the road, across the street from the gated drive. An uneasy sensation wriggled in her belly. "What do you mean?"
Zane's glance shifted to her. "Let's just say I don't want you getting into the same kind of danger your sister did."
The uneasy sensation wriggled deeper inside Pattie. "Lonny Domino isn't going to do anything to me."
Zane's expression darkened. "But you don't really know that, do you?"
Pattie's uneasy sensation stretched deeper, until she felt downright chilled. She wasn't afraid of Lonny Domino, however. Or at least, she wasn't as afraid of Domino as she was of herself.
She was terribly close to enjoying Zane's protectiveness.
That was—not allowed.
She shoved the car into park. "Lonny Domino wouldn't dare hurt me. If she did, it would create a trail leading right back to Savannah." Pattie turned off the motor.
"Seems to me—" Zane started to say.
But Pattie was already out of the car. It had gotten too confining in there, what with herself, Zane, and his counterfeit concern. It wasn't personal. Heck, he'd protect anybody who'd found themselves in her position. It was part of his whole knight-in-shining-armor thing.
Zane hurried out of his side of the car. "Seems to me..." he said, hurrying to catch up to her. "Domino's attitude might be that she got away with one murder, why not another?"
Pattie shook her head, trying to clear her mind. "I didn't go to all this trouble just to prowl the property." She turned and started across the street.
Zane strode right after her. In a furious mutter, he said, "If you think I'm going to let you—"
"What?" In the middle of the street, she whirled to interrupt him. "You aren't really letting me do anything, though, are you? I'm not yours."
She was relieved that she sounded angry. Somewhere inside her, however, deep in a place she hadn't known existed, she actually liked his bossiness. Shame nearly swamped her. How could she like it?
Meanwhile, he looked ready to explode. "That's for damn sure."
His anger made Pattie feel much better. If he were angry, he wouldn't notice her inexplicable weakness. Laughing, she turned to finish crossing the street. She headed toward the ivy-covered wrought iron gate.
Judging by the sound of Zane's feet, he was right behind her.
While she was surveying the gate, looking for a doorbell, intercom—something—he took her arm. The contact, firm and powerful, got her attention. She jumped and then glared at him. Horrible, horrible that she liked the way he was taking charge; she liked that he wouldn't let go.
Her earlier shame returned and grew, nearly choking her. How could she enjoy such...neediness?
"What are you doing?" The words barely escaped Zane's clenched jaw.
"I'm looking for a way into this joint." Pattie pulled, testing his hold on her. Cravenly, she was delighted to find he wouldn't let her budge.
"You're ignoring everything I've said," Zane spat out. "Why, Pattie?" He drew her closer. "Why do you have to fight me all the time?"
Why? Wasn't that obvious? He made her feel helpless, pathetic. Like Savannah.
The idea was like a blow between the eyes. That's what she didn't like about Zane. He made her feel like Savannah. He made her feel like a person who couldn't take care of herself.
"Does it matter?" Pattie shot at him. "Go. Just go. I'll handle this on my own."
Did she actually imagine he'd depart? Part of her hoped he would, hoped he'd force her to go her own way. Another part of her felt exhilarated when instead of leaving, he tightened his grip on her arm.
"The hell you'll handle it without me," he gritted out.
This was terrible. She didn't want to feel excited, but she did. She didn't want to feel this—this sensation that was almost like desire...but she did. The strength of his fingers around her arm, the clean shave of his jaw, the very energy that swirled in the air around him was all so male, so strong. He wouldn't back down. With a man like this, a person might believe she wouldn't always have to be in charge, herself.
Dangerous. Oh, how dangerous were these thoughts—so far beyond any illusions she'd once had about Nick. And they made her feel so terribly...soft.
She stiffened her jaw. No. Oh, no. She wouldn't allow herself to soften, and particularly not toward Zane, of all people. Determined, she pulled against his hold on her.
As if he'd let go. Her gesture ended up throwing their bodies together.
It was like hitting a rock. That's how hard he was, how rooted. Heat shot through Pattie, followed by an incredible weakness.
She would have felt mortified—if she hadn't seen the same aroused sensation arrow through Zane's eyes. As they stood there, pressed against each other, sexual tension settled around them like steam.
"Dammit," Zane muttered, and narrowed his gaze.
He was going to kiss her. Pattie knew this like she knew the sun was going to come up in the morning. She also knew she would let him. Let him? She was going to demand it.
Oh, this was bad. Very, very bad. Yet she lowered her lashes and lifted her chin. She tensed—
"Excuse me, sir. Ma'am?" A voice with a vaguely Southern accent cut into the air.
With a start, Pattie jolted apart from Zane. She whirled to see three men standing on the other side of Lonny Domino's wrought iron gate.
They were all three big fellows, wearing tan uniforms and sporting gun belts. The middle one rested his hand meaningfully on the butt of his revolver.
"Can we help you?" he asked.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
"Uh..." said Pattie. Armed guards. She hadn't imagined anything like that, although it made sense. Here was a fancy, wrought-iron automatic gate, and beyond it some lush landscaping down a long, long driveway. Lonny Domino appeared to own a full estate. It figured there'd be guards to protect such a place.
Guards to protect Lonny Domino.
Pattie felt sluggish from the crazy, weak moment with Zane, but not so sluggish she couldn't grasp the importance of seizing control here. She suspected Zane's style of handling the situation would be a strategic retreat.
Indeed, she felt his hand steal around her arm. "Pattie," he said, low.
"No worries. I've got this, Kincaid." Acting confident, she patted his hand on her arm, then turned to the guards. She addressed the middle one, the one with a hold on his gun. "Yeah, yeah, you can help us. My name is Pattie Bowen and this is Zane Kincaid. We came to see Lonny Domino. Wanta let us in?"
The three guards regarded Pattie as if she were dog poop they were going to have to clean from the driveway.
Zane
's hand tightened on her arm.
Pattie heaved a long-suffering sigh. "Lonny Domino threw a rock through my dining room window. A very expensive window, I might add. I want to speak to her. You know, about restitution."
Pattie had upgraded herself from dog poop to snaildom, she figured. The three guards glanced among themselves nervously. Maybe their employer was given to throwing rocks through windows. In any case, the guy in the middle appeared to take the accusation seriously enough to jerk his head toward the guard to his left.
Apparently understanding this as a signal, the guard pulled a walkie-talkie off his belt. Pattie and Zane were subjected to the narrow-eyed glares of the two remaining guards while Walkie-Talkie turned aside to hold a brief conversation on his device.
Pattie didn't dare look at Zane. She could feel him, though, his hand firm on her arm, as if he were barely restraining himself from tugging her from the scene. It was probably only the idea of causing a worse scene that stopped him.
After a minute, Walkie-Talkie tramped back to the group. "We're to take them to the house," he grunted.
"Fine," Pattie exclaimed brightly, before Zane had a chance to say otherwise. Under the guise of patting his hand again, she clamped him in place on her arm. If she were going to be stupid enough to go in there, so was he. "Come on, soldier."
A low growl from Zane was her reply.
Meanwhile, the guards opened the gate.
Pattie, thus attached to Zane, strolled on through, doing her best to act thoroughly delighted with this turn of events. In reality, she was leaning toward appalled. They were walking into Lonny Domino's gated, guarded estate. For all she knew, Zane was right and the woman was dangerous. But dammit, if Domino had killed Savannah, Pattie was determined to get some evidence against her.
Once inside the gate, Pattie could see the landscaping was even more lush than she'd first thought. Bamboo towered along both sides of the driveway, interspersed with orange-blue sprays of bird-of-paradise. Once past the driveway, the guards led them through densely planted gardens surrounding a sprawling, cream-colored mansion. Striped awnings and numerous iron-railed balconies littered the facade.
If I Loved You Page 13