“The two clams are legitimate.” Shana jugged her chin. He was in trouble. There was no way he was going to talk her out of this stalker fiasco with that much money—and thus her pride—at stake. Not to mention the fact that she’d been climbing the walls waiting for a diversion.
“Okay. Say we find this Patty and somehow manage to talk her into coming to the island because she’s desperate or brain dead—”
“We would protect her. She would be perfectly safe with us.”
“She doesn’t know us. For all she knows we’re in on some elaborate kidnapping.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“Cautious. I’m not wild about enabling a potential stalker.”
“I think it sounds like a legitimate case,” Cap said.
He and Shana looked at Cap. He scowled and Shana smiled.
Chapter 5
Dane resigned himself to accepting the case. There was no way he’d be able to tear that check from Shana’s hands without using his gun. He listened to her and Cap talk about how to find long-lost Patty as he drove and Dane felt damn good about himself for not turning the radio volume up to the highest decibel possible. It was a continuation of the lunchtime conversation. He scowled and drove.
“Tell me one thing,” Dane interrupted Shana mid sentence. “Why the hell would any guy pay two large for what will amount to no more than fifteen minutes work on the Internet to find this woman?” He didn’t care about the answer, but he loved playing the devil. The role suited him, he knew.
She scowled at him from the passenger seat and then answered, as he knew she would. She didn’t know the meaning of a rhetorical question, didn’t stop to realize that he didn’t care about the answer—or rather, that he already knew the answer.
“The trick is not in finding Patty Baker, the trick—where we’ll earn our fee—will be in getting her to come back to Martha’s Vineyard. We have no idea where she is—it could cost us half the fee in airfare.”
“A road trip would do you two good,” Cap said.
Dane looked in the rearview at Cap as he pulled into the State Police HQ. Cap looked perfectly serious and Dane wasn’t sure what it was, but he was sure something was going on with the man.
“This is your stop, Cap. Pleasure as always.”
“I feel like I should tip you. You’re acting more like a polite chauffeur than the hardass Dane I know.”
Dame snorted and Cap got out of the car—after giving Shana a fond pat on her shoulder. Lucky for Cap he didn’t hug her or touch her hair. Dane was at his limit of tolerance for their affection. Cap was right—a road trip would be welcome about now—to get Shana away from Cap.
Of course, that would mean Dane would be stuck with her. On the road. He wasn’t sure if his willpower could withstand it. He wasn’t sure if any part of him could stand it.
He pulled back out and drove them back to his house—their office—when he knew it would be a better idea to take her to her little two-room rental cottage.
“May as well get started tracking Miss Baker down—that is unless she’s no longer MISS Baker. You realize she could be married by now—and that would certainly create a large challenge for our plan to bring her back here for a date with a former lover.” Dane enjoyed making this point. Shana’s romantic blind spot was blindingly obvious to all except her.
He watched her pause, watched a warm pink rise and her jaw clench. Her chin rose, as always, showing off the long elegant column of her neck.
“You have a point.” She turned away and muttered, “I don’t believe I didn’t even think of that possibility.”
He nodded. “That’s why I get paid the big bucks.”
“Not this time—we’re splitting this evenly. I’ll do all the legwork. Starting now.” She popped from the Jeep as soon as the tires came to a crunching stop in his snow-crusted driveway.
He thought of going for a walk, cooling off. But sitting in his seat holding onto the wheel, he watched her long blond curls billowing in the breeze and her perfectly shaped long legs bound up the steps to his back door. No way in hell he could make himself not follow her inside to be near her, to look at her, to feel her warmth, to exchange snappy comments, raise her ire and watch her heat up.
Was he really this hopeless? She was not his. She was not for him.
They were too goddamned much alike.
Except he was supposed to be the older, wiser version.
A growing chasm of guilt, conflict and anxiety gnawed at her while she sat at the computer that rested on Dane’s dining room table. She had a laptop, but this desktop was hardwired to some supersonic Internet connection and some super spy level of security and so it was where they did all their work. She tapped at keys, but her mind was split between Patty Baker and her looming need for a date.
It wasn’t long before she’d realized she’d been counting on having a particular man in her back pocket ready and waiting for a meaningful date all along. Captain Colin Lynch. Right in front of her, he was always there, ready and willing, simmering and waiting for her to say the word. She knew it. Cap knew she knew it.
And what gnawed at her, causing twitching muscle spasms in her right eyelid at that very moment, was the real problem.
Dane. Dane knew it. He knew it well and good enough to stand like the Great Wall of China between them.
“Progress?”
She jumped at the one cool word he posed and took a beat to realize he was asking about the case—not about her Valentine’s date. She thought. Straightening in the hard wood chair, rolling her shoulders back and focusing in on the screen, she answered.
“Yes. I have three possible women in the greater Boston area. We should call them before expanding the search parameters.”
“Hmmph.” It was a grunt of disinterest, but he scraped the chair next to her back and sat, leaning in, cradling a mug of coffee in his hands and smelling like the cold ocean, wood chips, coffee and the essence of Dane. She forced herself not to flinch when his shoulder touched hers, sparking heat and adrenaline. She took a deep breath.
“I’ll make the calls,” she said.
“You think you’ll sound less threatening?”
Of course he knew the obvious answer to that. Another of his endless taunts. She turned to him.
“Anyone would sound less threatening than you.”
“Touché.” He grinned. His hazel eyes sparked and then simmered.
“What?”
“This is our case,” he said.
“I’ll let you know when I need you.” Never. Always.
“I would die holding my breath waiting for that,” he said, his smile more tense, but still there. Then he pushed back his chair and rose again plucking his jacket off the peg by the back door. She watched him drain his coffee and push through the door and couldn’t stop herself from asking.
“Where are you going?”
“Going to scare up a meaningful Valentine’s Day date.” He looked at her for a beat with his hazel eyes in their serious mode—flat and deep at the same time, without sparkle, without wry crinkles at the edges. Then he left, banging the door closed behind him.
She let out her breath and her heart began hammering as if he was chasing her and she was running for her life. Maybe that’s what she ought to be doing. But no matter how far she might run, she wouldn’t escape her fear that he might just find someone. A meaningful, romantic Valentine. Someone not her. Then what would she do? Where would she be?
Where would her heart be?
“Get out of bed. The plane leaves in forty-five minutes,” Shana said, pretending to be in charge. She stood inside his bedroom doorway.
“What the hell?” Dane looked at her and in a remarkably swift change from sleeping to wide awake and alert enough to taunt, he swept his covers aside to reveal his bare, very wide-awake body to her as he swung his legs to the floor and stood.
She backed away and heated and kept her eyes on his once they’d swept up his hard, well-used, well-taken-car
e-of body. He still felt too close in the confines of the small bedroom dominated by the queen-sized bed. But she’d decided to be bold and take charge and she couldn’t let go of that now. No matter how much he made her pay for her insolence.
“I got us some discount tickets for the puddle jumper to the Cape and arranged a car rental there.”
“Puddle jumper? What’s wrong with the ferry?”
“I called in a favor. The ferry is too late.”
“You got a discount from Ed?”
Of course he knew Ed. But Shana would bet she knew Ed better and smiled. Two could play at the game of toying.
“I did him a favor.”
She saw the unguarded wary look on Dane’s face as he finally grabbed for his pants. With great effort she stood still and watched and refused to be intimidated by his raw sexuality, by the force of his physical presence and the essence of him in this closed room down to the scent and the careless cool control he put on with his pants as he came fully awake.
He stood and faced her, waiting for her to tell all. She thought of waiting him out and decided to taunt with the facts.
“I posed for him. We had a picture taken together.”
Dane quirked a brow and went to his closet and yanked a shirt from its depths. Without a word. She sighed.
“Last summer. It was after the surfing contest. I posed with my board and—”
“And your bikini.”
“Yes and Ed’s arm around me. He posted it on Facebook claiming me as his new girl. He had something to prove to his ex at the time.”
“Facebook? Of all the fool—Shana, you were undercover in that surfing competition—”
“Don’t worry. He didn’t post my name—that was the deal. Anyway, he owed me for that and I called in the favor. So let’s go.”
Dane walked toward her. She stood in the door. He nodded at her pointedly to move through it.
“You including a Valentine’s Day date with that favor?”
His feigned nonchalance surprised her—the fact that it was so obviously forced. She could hear the wary note in his voice. He was slipping. She smiled.
“Evidently the Facebook picture worked for him. He’s back with his ex—or his ex-ex.” She stepped aside and followed him out the door, satisfied with her strategy to unnerve him so far. That this was important to her she knew was not a healthy thing, but she refused to analyze the health level of her relationship with Dane right now. If ever.
He climbed into one of the six rear passenger seats in the small plane and told himself that it didn’t matter that Shana headed for the copilot seat up front with Ed. It didn’t matter because there was no way in hell he’d let her sit there.
“We have some things to discuss.” Dane grabbed hold of her wrist with a firm, possessive grip, careful to stay short of punishing in spite of his urge.
Shana flashed him a quick glance, masking her surprise a beat too late. He could always count on this from her—if he stayed a step ahead of her. He’d slipped this morning. She’d caught him off guard—too quick, too early. He was getting soft. If this were one of his usual missions, he’d be dead or fast on his way to being dead by now.
He drew a deep, cold breath of the aviation fuel-scented air and let the shudder of stark realization take hold of him. There was a reason he was not on one of his usual missions—why he was redefining what usual meant in his life. He’d not thought about it, not planned it, not ruminated or despaired. He’d just done it. And now the change in his life settled over him like a heavy confining blanket, unwanted and unfamiliar, yet warm and comfortable. Like something that kept him still and didn’t let him get up and live, like the reminder that he could no longer live. Not the way he had been. And without looking, there he was in his new life. Like a foreigner who wandered onto the wrong plane and found himself in a place he knew nothing about and hadn’t given a thought about.
This was his new reality. He had no choice. Or he’d already made the choice without meaning to—not consciously. It was all the same.
“What is it?”
“You can fill me in on the details. Like where we’re going. Your conversation with Patty—you know. Like what the heck you did while I was out last night that got us here this morning. And that you didn’t mention to me last night.” The edge in his voice was a good thing. She’d assume it was about her.
“You got it.” She climbed up the short steps and sat in the seat diagonally behind Ed so she could see him—so they could see each other.
Dane followed her in, slightly bent, and crowded into the seat next to her. Blocking her conversational path with her pal Ed. He felt like a spoiler and smiled, a big genuine smile.
Shana shook her head as if she knew exactly what he was about. She probably did. That made his smile go deeper. There was no stopping his wild ride down into devilry now.
“Let’s have it girlie.”
“No mystery. While you were out—late. So late that I didn’t bother waiting up for you—I made some calls. She was the second name I called. I told her the truth and offered to meet her at a public location of her choosing and I gave her David Young’s name and position to call as a reference. I thought giving her the governor’s name would be too much and she wouldn’t be likely to call, figuring I was making it up.”
“Smart. I don’t suppose you called David.”
Shana’s sigh of exasperation was like everything else about her, steeped in mouth-watering sensuality and stimulating his man parts in these close quarters. Lord help him but he couldn’t help taking in a deep breath of her scent, tilting his head just so toward the nape of her neck to catch the intoxicating air.
“Of course I did. I left a message.”
“Did you give her Chief Inspector Young’s official line?”
“Yes. I knew a recommendation from the Director of the Scotland Yard Exchange Program in Boston would impress her.”
“Good girl.” He aimed his deep gaze at her when she met his eyes. The green specks flashed and wary fine lines fanned around them, only enhancing her pull on him.
He’d been too long without a woman.
“I’ve been too long without a woman,” he said. He’d long ago found the advantage in being blunt with her. Boldness suited his nature in any event.
“Don’t look at me,” she said. Then she sucked in a breath as if she wanted to suck her words back into her mouth. Dane loved that penchant she had of speaking too soon, speaking her mind. He’d cured her of it when it counted. If he were truly honest he’d admit that she kept her cool most of the time. Except when he melted it.
“Too late,” he toyed.
She narrowed her gaze at him, attempting to look like a scolding school marm or something, but failing miserably. She still looked like Shana, the icy hot goddess of sensuality and protector-mother of all that was sacred.
“Back to business.” She turned away and stared ahead. “You focus on your woman problems on your own time. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to let me think you’re struggling with our bet.” She turned back with an arched brow.
He smiled wider. He loved sparring with her. She was so easy. And so difficult.
“So Patty bought into it and agreed to meet us.”
“Yes. She called me back after her talk with our dear Director—apparently he overlooked your role in all this and gave us a recommendation.”
“God only knows what he thinks of me now—tracking down the lost and lonely.”
She ignored him—or pretended to. “And we arranged to meet at noon in Boston at the Parker House.”
“Watch out you’ll spend the two large on expenses before we’re done.”
“Don’t you worry about my pocketbook. I’m tracking my hours on this one and you’ll be lucky to get a dime if you keep it up.”
“Keep what up?”
“Exactly.”
He laughed. “Sweetheart,” he leaned in with a whisper because he couldn’t resist another deep drag of e
ssence of Shana and because he wanted to see the rise of heat and gooseflesh on her skin when his breath tickled her earlobe. “My presence is worth half the fee.”
“Oh yes, I forgot. Dane the damn legend.”
He watched the automatic lift of her chin when she said it, trying to overcome the pleasant pink heat and shudder of her flesh, and wondered if she realized how much she showed with that tell—that she showed all the resentment that fueled her chip, that fueled her passion. That made her irresistible.
He signed, but not for the reason she was thinking, he was certain. Because he was certain there were no cold showers on this damn puddle jumper and he sure as hell could use one right now.
Chapter 6
The minute she pulled off the highway and onto the streets of Boston Shana felt like the stranger she was and pushed Dane awake in the passenger seat of their SUV rental.
“Time for you to take the wheel and earn your keep.” She pulled the car over to the side in the narrow canyon of cement and glass buildings. A horn blared and she stopped herself from making an unruly gesture at the impatient driver. “Oh stop it—I’m not blocking traffic,” she muttered.
She met Dane’s eyes. There was a hint of dreaminess left in him, and awareness hummed to life between them like someone turned on a generator—a special sex appeal generator.
“You’re not exactly parked—you want me to get out here and get behind the wheel?”
“You afraid of a little traffic?”
He rumbled a laugh, a kind of low charged sound. She turned and opened her door after a quick check and before he could say or do anything. At least if he was driving, now that he was awake, he’d be occupied and not focused on her.
They both got back in the car, slamming the doors at the same time.
“We on time?” he asked, adjusting the mirror and pushing the seat back. Before she had a chance to answer he pulled out into the traffic and drove like he’d been a native Boston taxi driver who knew all the roads and alleys and shortcuts.
“Yes. We have enough time to spare to check out the venue.”
“Check out the venue? What are we—event planners?”
Beachcomber Valentine Page 3