“Ms. McNamee. Is this the ex-wife?”
“Nah…she’s his daughter.” Toby spoke, a new fire lighting his eyes, along with a glint of something else Ryker couldn’t decipher. “She’s a spitfire that one. No daddy’s little girl.” The man chuckled, clearly infatuated with the mere thought of the woman. Maybe a little too infatuated.
Ryker’s interest was piqued, a tiny voice at the back of his brain trying to get his attention. So, Joanna McNamee was back in town.
“Okay, gentlemen. You’re free to go. Thank you for your time. Leave your full names and phone numbers at the front desk in case we need to contact you again.”
“The gunman took our cell phones,” Jerry said.
“Your home numbers will be fine.” Ryker stood and left the room without another word. He had some research to do. Then it was off to find Jo Jo McNamee and see if she was still the spoiled little brat he knew way better than he wanted to.
Chapter Two
Joanna halted the big yellow truck under the small unloading bay of the Pine Woods Country Club parking lot. The late-afternoon sun blinded her through the windshield, reminding her of how much this setback cut into her decorating schedule. In no time, her father would arrive to survey her progress with a backup party planner hot on his heels. She rolled her eyes.
Creative Events & More was nothing but a high-priced assembly line style planning service with no vision or heart. Not to mention they were crooks. They’d make promises they couldn’t deliver and then charge extra for any type of consultation or change after the contract was signed. Throwing up a few tables and having high-priced waiters walk around with microwaved frozen appetizers from the local discount warehouse store was an insult to party planners everywhere.
And her father had called them for one reason and one reason alone—to prove that anyone with half a brain could do this job. She was a McNamee, his one and only heir to the McNamee’s massive empire. And hell would freeze over several times before he let her throw her life away planning parties for others.
With a huff, she slung the heavy truck door open and hopped to the pavement, her boots a welcome balancing tool, as Andrew pulled up beside the truck in the Dually.
In less than twenty minutes, Andrew had wrangled up five of his brawny friends from the gym down the street to help out. After tons of muscle and a well thought out plan, Joanna stood back surveying their progress with ten minutes to spare. The tables and chairs were in place, the gold and black tablecloths draped just so, the lit centerpieces showering the room with a soft golden glow as five very large men made fools of themselves at the open bar with Sam. Joanna shook her head at the sight. Some things never changed. Now all that was left to do was slip into her party dress.
“What the hell have you done?” Her father’s voice broke through the fantasy, crumbling her self-confidence like Creative Events & More’s freezer-burnt frozen fudge.
Slowly spinning on the heel of her boot to face her father’s wrath, she clutched the clipboard tight to her chest to keep from whacking the party-planning imposter over the head as he stood grinning behind her father.
“This isn’t what you wanted?” Why couldn’t he admit she was good at this?
Both brows synched together in the middle of her father’s forehead, his ears beet red. “There’s a cop at the front desk asking all kinds of questions about a carjacking, and your name is at the top of his suspect list?”
“Cop?” Joanna’s mouth fell open. What on earth?
“Don’t make excuses. Just go take care of it before people start talking.” He turned and stormed off, not even glancing at all the hard work and preparation they’d nearly killed themselves over.
“Mr. McNamee, just say the word and I’ll take over.” The associate from Creative Events & More straightened his bow tie and hurried after her father.
Swallowing back the bitter taste of defeat and disappointment, she eyed the beautiful room. You did good, Joanna. Real good, she told herself. Put on those big girl panties and get rid of the cop. This guy was probably here about her missing truck. Better late than never.
“Wait a minute,” she said, wrinkling her lip. She hadn’t reported it missing.
So who had?
…
The minute the auburn beauty walked through the front doors of the country club lobby, Ryker remembered why his body twinged at the mere mention of her name. Hell. It was her. In the flesh. He fought hard to keep his mouth from dropping. She’d always had an innocent loveliness about her back in high school. He shifted his weight against the counter. That had matured into a full-fledged womanliness that had him worked up in knots.
Older, and clearly still on a mission to defy her father with her country hick attire, this woman was one who could never be forgotten. Although that night at the bar she’d given him a fake last name probably to keep her true identity hidden, he’d known exactly who she was.
A senior and several years ahead of her in high school, he’d first noticed the cute freshman in the parking lot where a couple of upper classman girls had cornered her and were giving her a hard time. He’d stepped in, put a stop to it, and walked her inside to her first class. From that day on, she’d never failed to offer up a sweet smile when they crossed paths. And then he’d found out who she was…who her father was, and that was that. He didn’t need that kind of trouble in his life.
Instead, he’d watched from afar as she’d zipped around Bram in her bright red convertible Mercedes like she owned the place. She’d been way too easy on the eyes, popular, and off limits for someone like him. And there was always that weird kid hanging around he’d thought was her younger brother.
Imagine his surprise that night in college to find her nothing like the spoiled little rich girl he’d assumed.
Until the next morning when the booze wore off, and he’d exited the shower to find she’d bolted like he had some kind of rare, incurable disease.
Her father, Clint McNamee, was an oil tycoon. Made his money off the backs of hard-working men in the field and offshore. A shrewd businessman without a heart. Ryker’d met his share of those while working with the Houston DA’s office.
So what exactly made this adult version of the college girl he’d fantasized about tick?
She walked right up to the desk without a glance in his direction and addressed the man behind the counter in a sweet, Southern drawl that sent his libido into overdrive.
“I’m supposed to meet a cop here. You know where he went?”
Ryker straightened to his full height next to the counter not ten feet from her. What was he? Invisible?
Seeming confused, the man looked from her to Ryker then pointed in Ryker’s direction.
“Oh,” she said, turning her attention on him. “Sorry ‘bout that. I was looking for a uniformed officer. A city cop.” She smiled politely, her beautiful green doe eyes locking with his.
He waited for recognition to hit.
It didn’t. He swallowed dryly.
“Hello, Ms. McNamee, I’m Deputy Ryker Kane. This is uniform in our small town.” He stretched out his hand and again waited to see if she remembered. Nothing. Not even an inkling.
“Nice to meet you, Deputy Kane.” She took his hand, peeked at the badge on his tan shirt, and gave him a firm shake. Just like he remembered. First glance and you’d think this woman was an easy target. Stick around long enough and you’d get your ass kicked.
Focus, idiot.
“I’m here about a missing truck.” Jump to the chase. It was probably best she didn’t recall their brief interlude anyway. He’d like to keep his pride intact.
“Missing truck? But my truck’s not missing. See? It’s right over there.” She pointed a slim, non-manicured finger to the side of the building where the hood of a bright yellow truck peeked through the mini-blinds.
Well, hell. There it was. How did he miss that eyesore?
“I am missing my crew, though. Don’t suppose you might know where I can find them?�
�� She gave him a half smile and a fizz of sexual awareness pinged low and deep, shocking the hell out of him.
“I questioned two men a few hours ago back in Bram. They’re the ones who reported the truck missing.”
“Bram? I see,” she wrinkled her brow. “What did they say?” Long, slim neck taut, her head tilted to one side, she looked ready to pulverize someone, and all he could think about was what the hell that soft exposed skin felt like beneath his tongue.
He refocused. “Ms. McNamee—”
“It’s Miss. But you can call me Jo Jo.” His muscles tightened at the name, his mind playing cruel tricks as flashes of their night together assaulted him, heat jabbing deep. They’d made out pretty hot and heavy after she’d clocked him using one of her karate moves while they were fooling around. Who knew she was a fourth degree black belt? He remembered the sensation of her perfect body against his like it was yesterday.
He cleared his throat, tried to get the thudding pulse at the base of her smooth, slim neck out of his mind. “Okay. Miss McNamee, how did the truck get here?” No way in hell he’d call her Jo Jo. Too much damn shit he didn’t want to deal with tied to the name, not to mention the woman.
“I drove it here.”
Tension built inside him. She wasn’t going to make this easy. “You drove it?”
“Yep. I have a Class A license.” She nodded, giving him a sweet smile. “I drive a Dually, too.”
“Of course you do.” Ryker scratched his head and thought long and hard about how to proceed. He let his gaze travel from her empty ring finger to her lightly freckled cheek, stopping just shy of her sensual mouth. No wedding ring. Interesting.
Her body stiffened as she flicked a braid over her shoulder and grabbed the neck of her shirt. Clearly she’d caught him ogling her. “So what did my crew say? Were they hurt?”
Shit. She even smelled sweet. He took a step back, narrowing his eyes. “They were fine. A bit shook up about being held at gunpoint and worried their boss was going to be spitting mad, if I remember correctly.” He lifted a brow. “That boss you?” Her genuine concern both surprised and relieved him. If she was worried about the men, that probably meant she didn’t have anything to do with the truck-jacking.
“Gunpoint?” Her eyes widened. “Was Keith with them?”
“The two men I questioned weren’t hurt. But Keith was not a name either of them gave me.”
A bit of her spirited personality seemed to slip over the knowledge this Keith wasn’t among them. “Yes, I would be their boss. And they were correct on the spitting mad part, too. So where are they now? I’d like to…” She took a deep breath, both fists clenching tight. “Talk to them.”
“I figured they’d beat me here. They seemed really worried you wouldn’t be able to get set up for the party in time.”
“I’m getting really worried about them. I find my truck abandoned on the side of the road, unlocked with the keys still inside. You say they were held up at gunpoint, and now these men are nowhere to be found.” She grimaced. “I find this all strange and a bit disturbing.”
“You think they’re lying about what happened, Miss McNamee?”
“Jo Jo,” she said.
He nodded. Not happening. It was taking all the willpower he had not to ask her how she could forget the night they’d shared. Or hell, that they’d even known each other in high school. “Why would they lie?”
“I don’t think they’re lying. Not without good reason. I think they might be in some kind of trouble.” She paused and looked back over her shoulder at the truck. “They are the ones missing, deputy. Not my truck.”
Frustrated, Ryker raked a hand through his hair, pulling it back off his forehead.
Laser-green eyes zeroed in on him as she cocked her head to the other side. “Is there something else?” Her voice hinted at some kind of crumbling of her facade, but uncertainty and a tinge of something else he couldn’t pinpoint won out.
“No. I think we’re done for now.” He decided to play dumb. Best to keep their relationship businesslike. “Sorry to bother you, ma’am. I’ll put in a call and see if we can locate your crew. They left numbers where they could be reached for further questioning.”
A frown pulled at her soft full lips. “Ryker, I—”
“Deputy Kane,” he replied. “I’ll let you get back to your party planning.” He needed to get the hell out of Dodge, but he couldn’t move. His senses were blasted to hell and back by the sweet tangy smell of her perfume each time she spoke, due to the expressive use of her hands. Not to mention those beautiful eyes drilling right into him.
“Sorry if this has been a waste of your time, deputy. Please let me know if you hear anything about my crew.” Whatever she’d started to say earlier, he’d never know. She held out her hand and he shook it. His body reacted instantly, an electrified bolt of adrenaline coursing straight to his chest.
“Right. I’ll be in touch. It was nice to meet you, Miss McNamee.” He backed away toward the front door, warning bells reminding him he’d sworn off women. All women. Especially this one from his past.
“It’s Jo Jo,” she said again as he turned around and made a straight line for the door. Hearing the name roll off her tongue like it did all those years ago had his palms damp, his pulse racing. Damn. He chalked it up to his abstinence over the past few years. A slew of high-maintenance girlfriends, a case which had taken up a huge chunk of his time, and he’d barely slept, much less socialized, with the opposite sex. He groaned.
It was going to be a long night. A very long, lonely night.
Chapter Three
As Joanna made her way back to the ballroom, she straightened her plaid shirt, smoothed back the stray strands of hair still escaping her tight braids, and tried to control her racing heart.
Had she pulled it off? The last thing she wanted or needed was for Deputy Ryker Kane to realize she knew exactly who he was. The odds had to be a million to one this man from her past could or would show up in her life again. One night in college. One glorious night. That’s all it had been.
Breathe. God, just breathe.
She snuck a quick peek over her shoulder toward the front door. He looked even better than she remembered. With his dark eyes fringed by long dark lashes and those toned, muscled biceps, he definitely turned his fair share of heads. The man was way too easy on the eyes, his sexy grin drawing you in and making you feel all kinds of special. He’d probably left more than a few hearts bruised and fragmented over the years.
A good thing Keith, her longtime friend and confidant, found her at the corner coffee shop the morning after. She’d gone out to pick up breakfast for the two of them once Ryker jumped in the shower. Finding out she’d been the object of a bet Ryker and his friends made at the bar the night before had stung. Especially after all the fun they’d had, not to mention their heartfelt conversations and the hot, frenzied time spent between the sheets. Dang it. The memories still sent flashes of heat rushing through her body. Her only consolation was they hadn’t taken it all the way—that would have been the ultimate humiliation.
Once, a long time ago, she’d believed in the fairy-tale ending. Actually dreamed of her knight in shining armor. The one who’d whiz into her life and carry her away to their very own paradise. But that nonsense passed quickly, and she grew up. Over the years, life had taught her one important lesson. Men let you down no matter how good their intentions were. Selfish tendencies always seemed to weasel in and win out.
“Wowzers, Jo Jo. Who’s the six-foot, broad-shouldered hunk of a man in the dark khakis?”
Joanna smiled. This girl was her one true constant.
“What?” Joanna pretended to be so deep in thought she hadn’t noticed Sam walk up behind her.
“Ah…so you were checking him out, too.” Sam nodded, giving her a knowing wink.
“Shut up. No, I wasn’t.” Picking up her pace, she tried to change the subject. “As usual, Dad’s not happy.”
“About Mr. Too-Goo
d-Looking? Or you watching Mr. Too-Good-Looking?”
“Samantha!”
Sam shrugged at Joanna’s outburst and frowned “Sorry, hon. Didn’t mean to hit a nerve. Just wondering who the guy was, that’s all.”
“Aw, man. I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just…Dad didn’t even acknowledge how great the ballroom looks. All he cared about was the cop asking questions. Dear Daddy didn’t want his reputation tainted before the party.”
“Good Looking’s a cop?” Both her friend’s brows raised. “Wow, didn’t know they came like that these days. He must be skipping the donut runs.” She snickered, clearly trying to lighten the somber mood.
“He’s a deputy.” Joanna sighed, shoving the annoying hint of familiarity from her tone. “For the Bram Sheriff’s Department. And that cliché about the donuts is so old.” She rolled her eyes. Clearly, Sam hadn’t gotten close enough to know who he was, and she wasn’t about to tell her. At least not now.
“A deputy? You don’t say. Even better.”
She gave her friend a stern glare. “Looks like my crew reported the truck missing in Bram, of all places, after being held up at gunpoint, and then went missing themselves.”
“Wait. What the freakin’ hell? Gunpoint? And Bram is going the wrong way. Weird. On both accounts. Why would someone do that?” Sam tapped a manicured finger on her chin. “Why didn’t they call you to come get them? Tell you what happened? I mean, you’ve worked with them for over a year now. And Keith was with them, right? This is all so bizarre.”
…
What a day.
After his shift, Ryker and his trusty old dog, Dumb-nut, hunkered down to watch the football game on his flat screen TV hanging above the stone-accented fireplace in his living room. He scratched the dog’s ear. Poor dog got its name after refusing to quit attacking the water sprinkler every time Ryker set it up to water the lawn. He’d called him plan old Dog up until that point.
Sinful Secrets Page 2