“Gee, ya think?”
He stood, forcing her to crane her neck to look into his clear gray eyes rimmed in dark lashes. “Do you have the flower?”
“In here,” she said, leading him inside her house. It had an open floorplan and, save for a pile of boxes, a sofa, loveseat, coffee table and chair—nothing else. She was waiting on another delivery from Tampa scheduled for late the next afternoon. She pointed to the sink.
Conner took out a latex glove and folded it in his hand so he could grab the stem without putting the glove on his hand.
And it was a large hand, Emma noted. For a scant second she wondered what it might feel like to have that hand run along the side of her body. Feel his fingers splayed in her hair.
Stop it!
“Probably just kids,” he opined. “This place has been empty for nearly two years and the kids used it like a fort until it got sold to you.”
“Oh. No one told me that.”
He shot her a charming smile that made her weak in the knees. “Just like no one told you you way overpaid for the place?”
“How do you know what I paid?” she demanded, her ire returned with a vengeance.
“Your realtor told my clerk and—”
“Your clerk told you,” she finished his sentence. “I don’t think I like Purdue very much,” she grumbled.
“Maybe this will change your mind. You got some blood on you,” Conner said. He took a towel from the roll by the sink and gently wiped her cheek. His touch was as soft as a whisper and in sharp contrast to the heat of his warm breath against her face.
Say something pithy. Something. Anything! God, she hated feeling vulnerable. It was an unfamiliar and unwelcome emotion.
Instead she just stared up at him as he let the towel fall away and cupped her chin in his palm. His thumb made several circles on her skin then moved higher, brushing against her open lower lip until she was afraid a moan would escape. Her heart skipped several beats and her mind spun, Damn it. One touch and she was jelly? This man was going to be trouble.
“I’ll fill out a report,” he said in a steady voice.
Emma just nodded like some besotted fool. But she used the time he was in his truck to gather her scattered wits. How on earth could this man’s touch be more erotic than a kiss from anyone else?
She supposed it was when that man was Conner Kavanaugh.
CHAPTER FIVE
After a fitful night dreaming about a tall man with dark hair and clear, gray eyes, Emma rolled off the uncomfortable air mattress and headed downstairs.
There were three items on her countertop: her beloved Keurig, her purse, and her phone, plugged into its charger. The refrigerator was equally sparsely populated, with only a container of cream and a carton of leftover Chinese food inside.
The sun was just peeking over the horizon as she took her speed-made cup of coffee into the living room and sat on the sofa. From her vantage point, she could see one-hundred-eighty degrees of lake view. The lake was two miles wide and nine miles long. There was a dock out back of her home but currently, it was occupied. By a really big alligator. She shivered automatically. The lake was nice to look at but only from inside the safety and comfort of her home.
Which would feel more like a home when the rest of her furniture arrived. She was excited about that, actually. After years of living with roommates or in a furnished apartment, this was her first real home. Her first attempt to decorate. It was exciting yet daunting.
She was startled by the shrill ring of her cell phone. Placing her mug on the coffee table, she raced into the kitchen and yanked out the power cord. “Hello?”
“Miss McKinley?”
“Jeanine?” she asked, fairly sure she recognized the voice even though it was barely above a whisper.
“I’d like the job. If it’s still available.”
“It’s yours,” Emma said. “When can you start?” The sooner, the better. “I’ve got some deliveries scheduled for today so having you in the house would be a Godsend.””
“Can we come now? David and me?”
“Sure. Maybe later David could look into going back to school.”
“I was hoping you could talk to him about that.”
Emma checked the clock on the microwave. “Can you be here in an hour?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“You don’t have to ‘ma’am’ me, Jeanine. Emma is fine.”
“Thank you, Miss Emma.”
She got off the phone and raced upstairs for a shower. She’d correct Jeanine’s use of “Miss” when they arrived.
She dried her hair and applied her make-up, then put on a pretty pink shift dress and grabbed a white sweater that she draped over one bent arm before she slipped into a pair of ballet flats. Like most things she did, the outfit was intentional. Today’s case—assuming Bill’s kid still had chicken pox—called for a younger, less aggressive woman. Her client was six-six. If she didn’t seem frightened of him, then neither would judge and/or jury.
She was halfway down the staircase when the doorbell rang. “Hi,” Emma said as she opened the door wide. Her smile faltered when she saw Jeanine was sporting a purplish eye that was nearly swollen shut. “Jesus Christ,” she muttered as she took the small suitcase from the woman. “Skeeter?”
Jeanine nodded.
“He’s a total dick,” David added as he carried a box inside that seemed very heavy based on his body language. “Where do you want me to put my stuff?” he asked.
“Up two flights, then pick a room. They’re both about the same size.”
Emma led Jeanine to the living room. “Do you need to go to the hospital?”
Jeanine shook her head. “It’ll be fine in a day or two.”
“How about a cup of coffee?”
Jeanine smiled and winced simultaneously. “That would be wonderful.”
“Black?”
“Cream if you have it.”
Emma brewed Jeanine’s coffee and then another for herself. She carried them back into the living room just as David was coming down the stairs. “Want some?” Emma asked.
“Sure. I’ve got two more boxes in the car.”
“Not a problem; just shout when you’re ready.” Emma watched as he walked out on the deck and down to what she generously called a car. It was some sort of 1980s compact with one door painted with primer; there was red tissue paper covering a broken tail light; and the antenna looked as if part of it had been snapped off. The car was jerry-rigged with a trailer-sort of thing that carted a small, sad-on-the-eyes motorcycle.
She could take care of that later; for now, she delivered Jeanine’s coffee.
“Thank you, Miss Emma.”
She smiled at the battered woman. “No ‘Miss,’ okay? Emma is just fine.”
“’kay. I can’t thank you enough for all this,” Jeanine gushed. “Last night was real ugly. I knew you were right and I had to get away from Skeeter.”
No shit. But I don’t want to talk about Skeeter, I’m far more interested in Renae Burke and her merry band of friends.
* * *
Today was a huge day and Conner was determined to make it special. In preparation, he’d painted the guestroom bright pink with purple accents. He’d found a girly bedspread that was also pink with big purple polka dots, and it fit perfectly on the white four-poster bed he’d bought along with a matching end table and dresser. With the help of the sales lady, he’d gotten some throw pillows and at the toy store he’d found a stuffed purple elephant.
Samantha loved elephants. Conner smiled at the finished room and then closed the door. He wanted to see his daughter’s expression when she opened it and found he’d done so much in honor of her first visitation since his ex had moved to Chicago.
He checked his watch again. Time was creeping by. Sam’s plane didn’t land for another two hours but he was all set and ready to walk out the door. Maybe he could kill some time at Stella’s having coffee before he made the fifty-five-mile trek to the airport
to greet his only child.
He didn’t really need more coffee. He was already full of nervous energy. Though they spoke on the phone a couple of times a week, it wasn’t the same as actually being with her. As he drove into town he silently cursed the family court judge who had allowed his ex to move their daughter out of state. The judge had determined that his ex and her new husband had the more stable environment, just because Conner was on call at all times. It didn’t hurt that Lisa’s new husband had more money than God while Conner had had to take out a second mortgage on his house and all he’d received in return was a shitty visitation schedule.
Samantha was smart and with a little pull from her stepfather, she’d gotten into a prestigious math and technology school. This meant she had quarters instead of semesters, and Samantha had decided to spend her spring quarter with Conner. He arrived at Stella’s with more than forty-five minutes to kill.
* * *
Emma followed a deputy to a holding cell adjacent to the courtrooms. She had learned to ignore the catcalls of prisoners years ago. Her client was in the next to last cell. He was wearing an orange jumpsuit and shower shoes. Not the best choice for a bond hearing, but it was what it was.
“Mr. Willis Maddox?” she asked, referring to one of the forms she’d pulled from her briefcase.
A very large man with a dark completion and even darker eyes turned and gave her a once-over. “Yeah. Who’re you?”
“I’m Emma McKinley from the Public Defender’s Office. I’ll be your attorney today.”
His brows scrunched together. “What happened to Mr. Bill?”
“He has a sick child,” she answered. “Can you tell me in your own words what happened leading to your arrest?”
“I was washing my clothes and that jerk-off deputy said I was naked in public, so he arrested me.”
“Was it Deputy Hammond?” she asked.
Willis shook his head. “The young one. Deputy Littleton.”
“Why were you washing your clothes in public?” Emma asked.
“’Cause that’s where I live,” he explained. “Got myself a fine little place down by the creek.”
“Do you always wash clothing naked?”
Willis’ head tilted and he looked at her as if to say idiot. “I ain’t got but one pair of clothes, lady.”
“Okay,” Emma said as she scribbled a note on the file. “Anything else I should know?”
He shook his head. “I just hope my things are still there when I get back.”
“Things?”
“Got me some canned food and a camp light and my tent, ’course. Good pickings for some.”
“Where exactly is there?” she asked.
“Creek about thirty yards through the woods at the east end of Presidential Memorial Park.”
Emma’s mind wandered when she processed the name that had defined her whole life. If anyone figured out who she was, they’d probably run her out of town in a New York minute—everyone except the person who’d been sending her old news clippings of the assassination for the last six weeks. They’d started arriving just after her mother’s first stroke. Then seemingly out of the blue she’d received a call from a former professor abut a job opening in Purdue. It struck Emma as too coincidental to be anything less than someone wanting her here for a reason. Fine. She wanted answers, too.
“Miss?” The bailiff arrived and unlocked the cell.
Maddox shuffled and his shackles rattled as he was escorted into the courtroom. Emma was right behind him. She placed her briefcase on the floor next to the defendant’s table, retrieving her sweater and slipping it on.
Again, the weather in Purdue wasn’t like the postcard version of Florida. It was spring in north Florida, and temperatures in the mornings hovered around sixty. It wasn’t until afternoon that they warmed to the mid-seventies. However, here in the courtroom the air conditioning was set for the afternoon heat, making the room frigid this early in the morning.
She was keenly aware of her client’s massive size. How could she not be? He was more than a foot taller than she was and a lot of solid muscle. “Stop grimacing,” she whispered. “And let me do all the talking.”
Judge Crandall entered from his antechamber and the bailiff called court into session. Hayden Blackwell was again seated at the State’s Attorney’s table. He offered her a weak smile before the judge said, “Call the first case.”
“State versus Willis Maddox, Your Honor.”
Judge Crandall looked at her. “Miss McKinley, how does your client plead?”
“Your Honor, my client moves for an immediate dismissal of all charges.”
Hayden Blackwell’s neck got red as he stood. “The defendant was found naked in public, Your Honor. If that isn’t lewd and lascivious I don’t know what is.”
Emma cleared her throat and took a slip of paper out of her briefcase. “Your honor, at the time my client was washing his clothing, he was thirty yards deep in the woods. The statute clearly states under Section 7.01(a) ‘…the behavior must offend the sensibilities of those around the actor.’ Were Deputy Littleton’s sensibilities offended?”
“Let’s ask him.”
“Deputy Littleton, please take the stand.”
A muscular, red-haired young man in full uniform came up and was sworn before taking his seat. The judge swiveled in his seat and asked, “Well, son. Were you offended?”
He shrugged. “It was dark and he’s a big son of a bitch-man.”
“May I inquire?” Emma asked.
“Your motion.”
“Deputy Littleton. Were you offended by his size or the fact that he was naked?”
“Both.”
Emma nodded. “Okay. I notice you’re quite fit. Do you belong to a gym?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Work out regularly?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Shower after your workouts?”
His eyes narrowed on her like a couple of laser lights. “Yes.”
“So you’ve seen your fair share of naked men, correct?”
“Correct.”
“Then logically speaking it had to be my client’s size and not his state of undress that offended you?”
“I guess.”
Emma looked up to see the judge battling laughter. “Your Honor, I again move that this case be dismissed.”
Blackwell was beet red and on his feet. “Save it, Hayden,” the judge said. “Motion granted. The defendant is released herewith.”
* * *
Conner was as close to the flight arrival area as TSA would allow. Even flashing his badge didn’t get them to relax their rules. Luckily he was tall and could see clearly and he scanned the parade of passengers looking for his baby girl.
After what felt like a year had passed, he spotted her walking slowly up the terminal. She was wearing her pajamas. He silently cursed his ex for allowing her to travel like that.
“Sami!” he called as he waved his hand.
Nothing.
He tried again and still nothing. It wasn’t until he positioned himself in front of her and she nearly barreled into him that she looked up from the cell phone in her hands. She offered him a bright smile and got up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek.
Conner wrapped his arms around her and drank in the smell of her hair. He patted the top of her head as she stepped out of his grasp. Only then did she pull twin earbuds out of her ears. “You on some sort of covert operation?” he asked.
She held them out for him. “These are my earbuds, Dad. No more wires.”
“I’m still trying to master my DVR,” he admitted.
“Dinosaur,” she teased as she wound her arm through his. “I kinda brought a lot with me but Barry said he’ll pay for the luggage overages.”
“I think I can handle that without Barry.”
“Let’s go to baggage claim.” They followed a red line painted on the floor to the only carousel in the small airport. “What am I looking for?” he asked.
&n
bsp; Nothing.
“Sami?!” he said more firmly.
“What? Sorry, I was texting.”
“I haven’t seen you in six months and you’re texting six minutes after you arrive?”
“Dad, I have friends.”
“Do you have clothes?”
“What?”
He pointed in the general direction of her outfit. “Those look like P.J.s.”
“Pajama pants are comfy and technically, these are lounge wear. So is my top. I didn’t want to be cold or uncomfortable on the plane. Can we get some coffee?”
“Coffee? When did that start?”
She rolled her eyes. “I had to get up at o’dark-thirty to catch my flight. Oh wait! Those two plaid ones are mine.”
Conner wrestled the bags off the carousel. “Did you pack rocks?”
“No,” she said defensively. “Can we please get coffee on the way to your place?”
“Yes. But you really shouldn’t drink that crap. Tears up your stomach.”
She wasn’t listening. She was back to texting.
Like some sort of pack mule, Conner dragged her luggage to his truck and lifted them—with some effort—into the back of the SUV.
“I hate riding around in a police car. It makes me look like a criminal,” she whined.
Conner looked at her and smiled. “You’re too pretty to be a criminal, Sami.”
“Sam.”
“Excuse me?”
“I don’t go by Sami anymore. Just Sam.”
“Okay. There’s a 7-Eleven up ahead. I’ll get you a cup of—”
“Ewww. No, Dad, like real coffee. You know, from a real barista?”
“Sorry,” he said on an expelled breath. He’d have to go one town over to the coffee shop. It was a quaint place he’d been to once. Yeah, once he’d paid eight bucks for a cup of coffee.
They got out of the car and Sam said, “Smell that?”
“Yes.”
“I love the smell of coffee brewing. And I know just what I want.” Sam marched right up to the counter. Easy to do, because all of the other patrons were on computers or tablets with their pricey beverages within reach.
Sam smiled at the clerk and Conner was proud of his daughter’s manners. In six months she’d gotten about three inches taller. She was a stunning girl with jet black hair well past her shoulders and beautiful blue eyes. Her outfit might be comfortable but it was formless, which was fine with him. She was sixteen, but he wasn’t ready for her to grow up yet.
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