by Julie Benson
Once back in his office, he ate his lunch while searching the Internet for information, but found only Yelp listings, a few reviews and a bare bones website for Langston Printing. That meant finding Jack’s notes more important to save AJ from wasting time following up on a bad hunch.
If he could get around Grace.
How could one woman effortlessly cause such havoc in his life? And not only in terms of his case. Damn. He’d been attracted to women that were wrong for him before, but not like this. Not one who was wrong for him in so many ways. She wanted to make Wishing her home. He lived in the city, and his career kept him on the move. Say they overlooked that and got involved. What would happen when their relationship ended? With her running the inn and being Cassie’s best friend, they’d run into each other. The best he could hope for was they’d part amicably and their encounters wouldn’t be too awkward. But worst case scenario and things ended badly? That situation could cost him his friendship with Ty. Something he wasn’t willing to risk.
Where did that leave him? Pretty much between a rock and a hard place in a constant state of sexual frustration.
No doubt about it. He needed to search the house tonight and pray he located Jack’s evidence, because the sooner he solved this forgery case and got away from Grace, the better.
This isn’t a date.
Grace repeated the mantra as she sat on the barstool in The Bluebonnet Inn’s kitchen, a superb glass of Shiraz in her hand. AJ stood beside her tossing flour on the pizza dough he’d made earlier.
She blinked, her breath catching in her chest as she tried to find a place to look other than at his strong biceps as he kneaded the dough. Her gaze dipped lower. Nope. Worse. Denim surrounded strong thighs. She swallowed, hoping to prevent major drooling. Her gaze traveled upward. Geez don’t look at his butt. Once she’d thought that, she couldn’t help but peek. Not looking would be like walking away from a chocolate buffet without at least eating a cookie.
A man looking that exquisite in jeans ought to be illegal.
Nerve endings stirred to life sending messages of delight and feminine appreciation through her.
If this isn’t a date, it’s a great copy.
No. She refused to listen to the little voice in her head. She and AJ agreed this wasn’t a date. Therefore, it wasn’t.
Now if her body would get on board with the plan, it would help immensely.
“How did your talk with Mason go?”
“We set up a time for the three of us to talk in person.” His biceps bulged under his maroon T-shirt as he rolled out the dough. “And I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to that.”
“What’s the deal with them? Are they feuding over something or what?”
“If they are, they’ve kept the reason quiet, because Marjorie, my dispatcher and office manager, doesn’t know what happened. If she doesn’t know, then no one does.”
“I wonder if they remember.”
“Probably not.”
After he spread tomato sauce over the dough, AJ rattled off a list of topping choices. She selected pepperoni, mushrooms and spinach.
Then she realized how much thought he’d put into dinner. He’d made quite an effort with all the pizza toppings, the homemade dough, and the wine.
Sure seems like he thinks this is a date.
He tossed her ingredients over the entire pizza, then added onions and jalapeños to half, and she relaxed, now confident he didn’t view dinner as a date. No man who planned on making a move on a woman later put onions and jalapeños on his half of the pizza. Despite that, part of her was offended how easily he slotted her into the friends’ category.
Make up your mind. Do you want tonight to be a date or not? Right now nothing makes you happy, except ogling him, that is.
Trying to find a safer topic of conversation and channel her thoughts in an appropriate direction, she said, “Thanks for showing me around Wishing and introducing me to people today. It was fun. I knew I wouldn’t see Cassie a lot with the wedding and trying to finish her sculpture, but I’ve hardly seen her at all. It was nice to have someone to pal around with today.”
She almost laughed. Pal around with? What a joke. Her thoughts toward AJ had hardly been that tame.
“No problem. I can use another friend, too,” AJ said as he carried the pizza to the oven, placed it inside, and set the timer. “How about a movie? Dawn of the Dead, Zombieland, Shaun of the Dead? What’ll it be?”
“Is Dawn of the Dead the George Romero version?”
He tilted his head and stared her down as if she’d insulted him. What had she done wrong?
“Would a friend offer another version to a fellow zombie movie lover?”
There was that word again. Friend. How many times would he use it tonight? If he kept the trend up it could make a great drinking game.
Dinner had been a new level of torture for AJ. The only way he’d kept the situation under control, kept from grabbing Grace, and kissing her senseless, was to remind himself they’d agreed to be friends. Because of that, he worked the word into conversation every once in a while. Hearing his voice saying the word friend out loud hammered the concept home.
He’d been intimate with other attractive women before. When they wanted to remain friends, it hadn’t been a problem. Ashley was a prime example. They’d met at A&M, and dated for months. He’d even wondered if he loved her. Then she’d said they were better friends than lovers. She was still one of his closest friends.
What was it about Grace that made keeping things on the friend level difficult?
Another day or two. That was all he needed to hold out. Then things would be easier when he returned to his house. Something about knowing she was so close by kept her in the front of his mind and revved his motor.
Damn. He grabbed a small flashlight and headed outside. As he performed a quick recon around the property, he tried to focus his thoughts. When he found the Main House dark, he pulled out his key, unlocked the back door, and slipped inside. Figuring Jack most likely kept any evidence he collected in his office, he searched that room first.
When AJ walked into the room the first thing that hit him was how Grace’s presence hung there, along with her intoxicating perfume. Turning to the desk, he found a pad with notes she’d jotted down in a bold, precise handwriting, which suited her personality well. Turning to the task at hand, he dug through the drawers, while the computer booted up. When he discovered he could access all the computer’s files, he made a note to talk to Ty about putting security measures in place. Once he could admit he’d searched the inn, that was. Failing to find any notes on the forgery case in the computer or in the desk, he searched the closet and the books on the shelves on either side of the window.
He couldn’t deny his disappointment when he failed to locate anything in the office. What if he was wrong and Jack hadn’t written down what he’d suspected? He refused to consider the possibility until he’d searched the master bedroom.
He made his way upstairs to his friend’s room. The fact that two young vibrant people had been alive one day, and gone the next, hit AJ hard when he stepped in. He’d forgotten how that could happen to people in relatively safe jobs. But Jack and Chloe had left Ella as their legacy.
As he rummaged through the dressers filled with Jack’s and Chloe’s clothes AJ felt as if he were spying on intimacies he wasn’t meant to see. After coming up empty there, he moved on to the closet, smiling at how the area reflected Jack, organized, neat, and efficient. Hell, the man had his shoes in their original boxes, the factory description facing outward for easy viewing, stacked in two neat columns on the floor. Methodically, AJ worked his way through the boxes of loafers, running shoes and dress shoes. Then he moved on to search everything else in the damned closet.
Fifteen minutes later, having come up empty, AJ stood, but his right foot and calf had fallen asleep, throwing him off balance. He stumbled, and his arm brushed against the closet door, shaking the hanging rack with
Chloe’s belts. The jingle of buckles echoed around him. He grabbed them, stopping the noise.
What the hell was his problem? This wasn’t his first rodeo, but he was sure acting as if it were.
“Who’s there?” Grace’s frightened, shaky voice rang out from next door.
AJ froze, hoping she’d think she imagined the noise or it came from outside.
“I suggest you leave. I’m calling the police.” This time her voice held more confidence.
He’d wait her out. No way she’d be foolish enough to leave her bedroom. She’d calm down, go back to bed, and he could sneak out. Wait her out. That was all he had to do.
A minute passed. Patience and time. He’d be fine.
The thought floated through his head, and then the Aggie War Hymn blasted from his phone, shattering the silence.
He snatched his cell out of his back pocket, flipped the switch turning off the ringer, and cursed himself for making a rookie boner mistake. Glancing at the screen revealed the police department’s name and number. Apparently Grace had called the police, and when Luke received the call, knowing AJ was staying at the inn, he’d called his boss to check out the situation. Now the guy acted logically, rather than racing off to play star cop.
“I heard your phone so I know you’re here. I talked to the police, and since the chief of police is staying in the Carriage House on this property, he’ll be here in a few seconds.” Grace’s voice cracked with fear, but grew stronger as she continued. “But if that isn’t enough to make you leave, I have a gun, and I won’t hesitate to use it. I may be new to Texas, but everyone knows in this state no one would put me on trial for shooting an intruder.”
For a second AJ considered doing exactly what Grace suggested—getting the hell outta there, and letting her think she’d run off the intruder. That would be best for him, but he refused to let her believe someone had broken in. From past cases, he knew the paralyzing fear that could create, especially for a woman.
“Grace, there’s no need to worry. It’s me, AJ.”
Bare feet slapped against the hardwood floor. A minute later the bedroom door flew open. The lights came on nearly blinding him, as the door banged against the wall, and bounced back nearly hitting Grace in the face. She sidestepped it, and stood glaring at him, hands on her hips. “What’re you doing here in the middle of the night? You scared the crap out of me!”
How was a man supposed to think of a half-decent excuse when the woman who revved his motor higher than a female had in years stood across the room from him dressed in skimpy pajama bottoms riding low on her hips and a skin-tight tank top stretched across her bountiful breasts? All AJ could think about was what Grace’s generous curves would feel like molded against him without the skimpy bits of material between them. A picture flashed in his mind of them tangled among the sheets on his bed, her long, shapely legs wrapped around his waist as he brought her to fulfillment.
His body responded, growing hard. Damn, he needed to get a grip fast, but no matter how much time he took, he doubted he could talk his way out of this. There was only one thing he could do. Tell Grace the truth. At least part of it.
Chapter Nine
If AJ’s supervisor ever found out what he was about to do, he’d be stuck in a flooded creek without a tree to cling to.
Remnants of fear still lined Grace’s face, but as she stood in front of him, her eyes blazed with pure fire. “You’ve got some big time explaining to do. What the hell are you doing here in the middle of the night? The kitchen I could understand. You know, late night munchies, but in Chloe and Jack’s bedroom?”
“I’m fixin’ to tell you, if you’ll let me get a word in. You’re not big on patience, are you?”
“Good thing for you I didn’t have a gun, or you’d have a couple of holes in you by now. That’s all I can say.”
“On the contrary.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, leaned back on one foot and frowned. “You want me to take that shovel away from you before you hit China?”
He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling, but damn he liked how this woman kept him on his toes. At least most of the time.
“While we’re talking about strategies that aren’t the wisest, you should never call out if you suspect an intruder’s in the house. All that does is lead the thug straight to you. It’s a blond horror movie stunt.”
She winced and slapped her palm against her forehead at his reference to the woman who invariably died first in every horror movie because she heard a strange sound and foolishly investigated. “Ouch. That hurts, but point taken. If I did something like that, my father would kill me.” When AJ’s eyebrows rose, she realized her blunder. “I should say if the intruder didn’t kill me, my father would. He’s an NYPD cop.”
A lot of their interactions made more sense with that little piece of information, such as her wanting to avoid involving the police after their accident. Cops’ kids knew too much, and it made them distrustful. Kind of the way the preacher’s kid often questioned his faith. No wonder she hadn’t wanted him to know about her being questioned by the FBI. She knew the information would make any cop suspicious.
“If I ever suspect someone’s broken in again, I’ll lock the door wherever I am, call the police, and wait for the cavalry.” Then her brow furrowed, and anger rolled over her features like storm clouds. “Hey, wait a minute. How did we get so far off track? Out with the explanation. Now.”
He should’ve known his side trip wouldn’t dampen her anger and curiosity, much less throw her off course.
AJ nodded toward the upholstered chairs situated by the bay window. “Have a seat.” When she hesitated he added, “Knowing you, and your tendency to ask questions, this could take awhile.”
At least now he understood where that penchant came from. Cop kids, or military ones for that matter, learned to ask for clarification because fine distinctions could make the difference between toeing the line and putting your ass in a sling.
“You’re in enough trouble. Choose your words carefully.”
“I wasn’t judging, and for the record, asking questions is a good thing. It keeps a person from encountering too many unwelcome surprises.”
“Nice save,” she said, as she settled in the chair and waited for him.
Moonlight from the window played across her delicate features, and an odd sense of intimacy settled around him. A vision of them in their bedroom, sitting here like this in the middle of the night, a baby cradled in her arms, filled his vision. He looked away and his gaze landed on the bed. New images filled his mind. Ones involving them getting naked and ignoring the outside world for at least a week. Damn near shaking, he shoved the image aside.
“Before Jack died, he suspected someone in town was involved in illegal activity.”
She laughed. “Not good enough. I deserve better than that.”
He considered brushing her off with police speak concerning confidentiality and risks to any case he put together, but figured if he didn’t satisfy her curiosity she’d keep hammering at him or go to Cassie with questions. Then Cassie would turn to Ty, who’d return to him, leaving AJ up to his ears in trouble. “Jack suspected someone of forging government documents.”
“You mean Social Security cards, birth certificates and Green Cards? Those kind of government documents?”
“I can’t confirm or deny that.” He had to draw the line somewhere.
Grace rolled her eyes, not fooled by his fallback answer, but he hadn’t expected her to be. “Not that someone in Wishing couldn’t do that—with the Internet, online shopping, and printer quality, they certainly could—but forged documents, especially government ones, seems out of character for everyone I’ve met here so far.”
“Money can be a powerful motivation.”
“I read a New York Times article a couple of years ago that said one hour and two hundred-sixty dollars can get just about any phony government document. The article also said terrorists can take a bogus S
ocial Security card or birth certificate and use it to create a new identity as a US citizen. Is that true?”
“Yup. It’s a whole new world since Nine Eleven.” The fact had created a new set of priorities for the Bureau searching for the enemy within. Work he wanted to get back to. “Before the crash, Jack called the FBI, asking if we had our eye on any operations in the area. Unfortunately, he was reluctant to share what he’d discovered because he worried about falsely implicating anyone. When I came here my top priority was to finish what Jack started.”
When I came here. Not when I took the job.
A twinge of guilt over omitting he still worked for the FBI snaked through AJ, but he shoved the emotion aside. Technically he wasn’t lying. Instead he explained how his instincts insisted Jack had kept a record of who he suspected and whatever evidence he discovered. “I didn’t find anything when I searched the office or his work computer, but that didn’t surprise me. Jack knew better than to leave information where another officer could find it. Don’t get me wrong. Jack trusted his people, as do I, but any officer who knows about a crime wants to be involved in the investigation.”
“And too many people nosing around makes suspects suspicious,” Grace finished for him. “Then you’re screwed because he has the opportunity to destroy evidence, cover his tracks, and run.”
He nodded, amazed at what she’d gleaned, and how well she grasped the situation.
“Did you find anything?”
He stiffened, and toyed with the ribbing on the chair arm. “I can’t believe Jack didn’t keep notes, but I sure as hell can’t find any.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, and leaned forward. “This room was my last hope. Solving this case has been like trying to find a white cat in a snowstorm.”
“I’ll keep my eyes open, and let you know if I find anything.” Her brows burrowed and her even white teeth nibbled on her lower lip. He remembered biting that little treat himself, and struggled to maintain his composure.