“Meeting the Grossos wasn’t as easy as you thought, was it?”
“No, it wasn’t. Meeting Kent last week was one thing, but being face-to-face with the couple who might have borne me…” She rolled her soda can along her forehead, focusing on the cool metal against her skin. “I know in my head that nothing might come of this, but my heart’s not listening. I want so badly to believe they’re my family.”
“Yeah, I was afraid of that. I shouldn’t have brought you here.”
She grasped his hand. “No, Jake. I’m glad you did. The Grossos are wonderful people. My feelings might be mixed up, but they’re nice feelings.”
“You sure?”
“Positive. However this turns out, I can’t regret trying.”
“I remember you mentioned that before. You told me you can’t see keeping your heart safe if it means it never gets used.”
She blinked. Had she said that? Probably. It’s what she believed. “You have a phenomenal memory.”
“At times. But overall I find my brain hasn’t been functioning all that reliably around you.”
Although his face was in shadow, she could see the beginning of a smile. She tugged him forward until he turned around to lean against the bumper beside her. “As far as I’m concerned, you’ve been terrific,” she said. “Thanks.”
“Geez, you’re not going to start telling me I’m a nice guy again, are you? That’s embarrassing.”
She realized he was trying to lighten her mood. As far as she was concerned, that only proved that he was nice. “What do you want to be, Jake?”
“Where should I begin? How about seventeen years younger?”
“You’ve got a real hang-up about this age difference between us, but it didn’t seem to bother your cousin or her husband. They both seemed happy that you brought a date.”
“They might not have been that open-minded if they thought you were their daughter.”
“Nonsense.” She leaned forward to set her soda on the ground by her feet, then reached up to smooth back Jake’s hair. “You’re an attractive man. And as much as you try to deny it, you’re sensitive and considerate, too. Any woman would be lucky to go out with you, but from the sound of things, you haven’t been dating anyone lately. Why is that?”
“Hey, we were talking about you. How did this get to be about me?”
She dropped her hand. “Why are you avoiding the question, Jake?”
“There’s nothing much to say. I’m not a monk, Becky, but most women want a relationship to go somewhere and I’m not a settling-down kind of guy. Especially not at my age. I thought you realized that.”
The answer was too glib, Becky thought. Anyway, she didn’t believe it. Yes, Jake had told her weeks ago that he was a confirmed bachelor, yet he had struck her as a responsible man, one who sincerely cared about people. She was sure he would take any relationship seriously. “You seem to get along well with the Grossos. What about the rest of your family? Your mother and your brothers?”
“I don’t see them much. Two of my brothers went to live in California and the other one moved to Portland. Our mother remarried years ago, before I joined the army. She and her husband are in Denver now. He takes good care of her.”
A silence fell between them. Becky became aware of voices around the other side of the motor home and the occasional clink of cutlery, but she and Jake were still alone. She slid closer to him. “You keep in touch with them, don’t you?”
“Oh, sure. E-mail, telephone. We’re busy but we haven’t lost track. My sisters-in-law send me stacks of pictures of all my nieces and nephews. Not as many as your mother took of you, but they’re still working on it.”
“Haven’t you ever wanted children of your own?”
He stretched out his bad leg and rubbed his knee. “I told you, I’m not the settling-down type.”
“I know that’s what you said, but it’s not an answer.”
“Whoa, all I did was bring you to a barbecue. Maybe in some culture I don’t know about that’s akin to a marriage proposal, but the last I heard—”
She swatted his arm before he could derail the topic into a joke. “I’ve been totally honest with you, Jake. Can’t you trust me enough to do the same?”
Even in the shadows, she could see the flash of discomfort on his face. She knew it couldn’t have been from her swat. It had to have been from what she’d said. “That’s it, isn’t it?” she murmured. “You don’t want to trust me.”
“You’re making way too much of this, Becky.”
“I think you’re cautious about everything, including people. You don’t want to take chances.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being careful.”
“Maybe not in your job. Being methodical and wanting to make sure of your facts makes you a good detective. It probably made you a good soldier.”
He gestured toward his leg. “Not good enough.”
“You told me that was an accident.”
“There were warning signs I should have picked up on. There was debris on the road. We hadn’t taken the time to secure the load properly. Between the smoke and the dust, the visibility was next to nil. Looking back on it, the accident could have been avoided if I’d been more cautious. I’ve learned the hard way that caution’s a good thing, Becky.”
She placed her hand on his knee. She could feel the ridges of scar tissue through his pant leg and she thought yet again how much he must have endured. Was this why he didn’t like to take chances, either in his business or his personal life? What did she know about how deeply a trauma could affect someone? It was a testament to Jake’s character that he’d remained such a sensitive and considerate man in spite of it. No wonder she was falling in love with him…
She withdrew her hand, shaken by what she’d just thought. She must be wrong. She couldn’t go from a crush to love in a matter of days. Her emotions had to be scrambled from getting that DNA sample taken and meeting the Grossos. Yes, that was it. Only minutes ago she’d been thinking about how much she longed to be loved. She was probably projecting those feelings onto Jake.
She was attracted to him. They were having a good time together. She shouldn’t confuse that with something deeper.
“I’m sorry,” she said, shoving herself off the bumper. “You were right, all you did was invite me to a barbecue. That doesn’t give me the right to interrogate you like this.”
He caught her wrist. “Do you still want an answer?”
“Answer?”
He rose to his feet. “You wanted to know why I’m single.”
“It’s okay, Jake. You don’t have to—”
“It’s not a secret. All the Grossos know about this, so you might as well, too. Not that I’m saying you’re a Grosso.”
Of course, he had to add that qualifier, she thought. That’s just the way he was.
“I did plan to get married once,” he said. He released her wrist and raked his hand through his hair. “As corny as it sounds, she had been my childhood sweetheart. Heather and I were engaged for years, but it didn’t work out. It made me realize I wasn’t cut out for marriage.”
She took a minute to absorb what he’d said. He’d been engaged. That made sense. A broken engagement, especially with a woman he’d loved since childhood, would have had a profound effect on a man as cautious as Jake. It could have influenced his outlook as much as his injury had.
But his revelation only led to more questions. Had he loved Heather? He must have or he wouldn’t have wanted to marry her, but did he still love her? That could be a reason he hadn’t married someone else. What had happened to break them up? How could any woman have thrown away a chance for a future with a man like Jake?
Or it could be the other way around. Jake could have been the one who had ended the engagement, yet Becky didn’t think so. There was something in his tone that hinted at buried pain. It was similar to the way he sounded when he spoke of his injury.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “That must have
been difficult.”
He shrugged. “It was a long time ago. I don’t normally think about it, but you wanted me to be honest with you.”
“I appreciate that, Jake.”
“But I didn’t take you away from the party so I could talk about my past.”
She glanced around. “Yes, I realize that,” she said, stepping away. “You were only trying to calm me down after my meeting with the Grossos. I’m sorry.”
“Will you stop apologizing?” He hooked his arm around her waist before she could retreat any farther. “Anyway, I didn’t find us some privacy just so you could de-stress, either.”
“You didn’t?”
“Nope.” He eased her closer. “I had another reason for getting you alone.”
“What?”
“This,” he said, lowering his mouth to hers.
At the first contact of his lips, her thoughts were submerged beneath a wave of sensation. The kiss was gentle, at odds with his grasp on her waist. She could feel his restraint in the way his arms hardened and his breath puffed hot across her cheek. Tension hummed through his body to hers, sparking from every point where they touched, yet his lips remained soft and giving.
Becky had been kissed more skillfully. She’d been kissed in settings that were far more romantic than the back of a motor home at a racetrack. She’d had kisses that were meant as a passionate prelude to sex.
Yet she’d never experienced the sense of connection to another person that she did now.
It had always been that way with Jake. The tingles she’d felt when they’d first met, and the breath-stealing thrill when he’d held her last week, were nothing compared to the pleasure of his mouth moving against hers.
He tilted his head until he found the best angle, then fitted more confidently against her, savoring the contact. He didn’t kiss as if he were still in love with his old fiancée. He kissed her as if they were the only two people in the world. Time stretched around them as he invited her to join him in this first exploration. She did. After weeks of restraining her desire to do this, she was almost giddy with the freedom of finally being able to indulge.
His lips moved into a smile as he felt her response, yet he didn’t take the kiss further. He seemed to understand that for here, for now, this was all the intimacy either of them needed.
It might not be love, but it felt right. Perfect. It felt like coming home.
Becky pulled back her head, breaking the kiss, and stared at Jake.
He smiled, touching his finger to the moisture on her lower lip. “You didn’t hit me again. I guess that’s a good sign.”
It took a moment to catch her breath. “It was nice, Jake.”
His smile turned to a grimace. “Nice? Ouch.”
She realized the word hadn’t come close to describing that incredible kiss, but it might be better not to expand on it. How could she hope to express what she was feeling when she didn’t understand it herself?
CHAPTER SEVEN
RALPH BOCCI didn’t bother to muffle his footsteps as he strode down the hall to McMasters’s office. He knew the routine in this building well enough to know there was no one else here at this time of night. And ever since he managed to lift a skeleton key from one of the cleaning crew, getting into the office was a snap.
Not that he was going to tell the Brown witch. No, if she thought this job was getting easier, she’d probably step up her threats about talking to his parole officer. The woman must take pleasure in controlling men. How did her husband put up with her? Back in the day, Hank Brown had been hell on wheels. That’s what the word around the Shillington plant was. He’d driven for old man Shillington’s NASCAR team but had quit cold when he’d married Cynthia. Traded in his car for a desk and a piece of the family fortune. Come to think of it, the Shillington money would go a long way to sweetening any deal.
Ralph popped a fresh stick of gum into his mouth, closed the door behind him and walked to McMasters’s desk to turn on the lamp. The box of baby pictures was still in the corner—he’d looked through them on Mrs. Brown’s orders, but it had been a waste of time. So had following the guy around to racetracks. If that was all it took to be a private investigator, maybe Ralph would look into trying his own hand at it once he was through with this job. He glanced at the storage cabinet. Yeah, maybe he’d come back on his own time and help himself to some of the equipment he’d found on the shelves in there. It must be worth a few grand. He could consider it a bonus for everything he’d had to put up with.
As usual, there was nothing on the desk that Mrs. Brown would be interested in, only some rent receipts and a few take-out slips from a diner. Ralph went straight to the filing cabinet, picked the lock and took out the Peters file. A slip of yellow paper that hadn’t been there before caught his eye so he tipped it toward the light to get a closer look. At first glance, it appeared to be just another receipt until he noticed there was a name of a laboratory on the top. He squinted to read it more carefully.
Oh, hell, he thought, pulling out his phone. The boss lady wasn’t going to be pleased about this.
She wasn’t. “A DNA test,” she hissed.
“Yeah. I’m pretty sure that’s what it means.”
“Read it to me again. Don’t skip anything.”
He did as she ordered, then waited. For once, she seemed to be at a loss for words. When she did speak again, he wished she hadn’t. “No way,” he said. “I can’t do that. I never torched a place.”
“You’ll do as I say, Mr. Bocci. Need I remind you—”
He broke the connection before she could complete the threat. It was then that he heard the faint sound of voices coming from the other side of the door. Someone was moving down the hall.
Ralph was still holding the yellow paper from the lab. He stuffed it into his pocket along with his phone, replaced the file in the cabinet and dove for the desk to turn off the light. He told himself to stay calm—it could be some of the cleaning crew who had forgotten something. There was a maintenance room at the far end of the hall. That’s probably where they were heading. All he had to do was keep quiet until they left.
Whoever was out there was close enough now that Ralph could make out a few words. It was a man and a woman, and they were talking about this weekend’s NASCAR Sprint Cup Series race. He caught the name Grosso a few times and his palms began to sweat. He wiped them on his pants and tried to tell himself that it was just a coincidence. Simply because McMasters was investigating the Grosso kidnapping didn’t mean anything. Anyone talking about NASCAR was bound to mention the Grossos.
But then Ralph heard the thud of a cane along with the footsteps. He didn’t need to look to know who was out there. Of all the rotten luck. What was McMasters doing here now? He glanced at the window behind him, but the opening was filled with the air conditioner. Even if it hadn’t been, he didn’t much like the idea of going out a second-floor window without a fire escape. He didn’t like the idea of being trapped in here, either—he’d had more than his fill of small spaces in prison.
Ralph bit down hard, only to discover he must have swallowed his gum. McMasters was a big guy, in spite of that gimpy leg, and looked like he knew how to handle himself. Ralph wouldn’t want to tangle with him. His sole hope was striking first. Nicotine-lined lungs or not, he should be able to outrun a cripple. He dried his palms on his pants again, then pulled his knife from his boot, flicked it open and crept toward the door.
“SO, ARE WE ON for the next NASCAR Sprint Cup race in Indianapolis in two weeks?” Jake asked, fishing in his pocket for his keys. The overhead light in the hall had been dimmed for the night. He had to hold up the key ring to pick out the right one.
They’d arrived back in Charlotte several hours later than they’d planned. Thunderstorms in Chicago had delayed their departure, and once they’d made it home, the traffic on the airport parkway had been, well, parked. Yet Becky had enjoyed every minute of her time with Jake. “I’d love to go,” she said. “I don’t know whether
you’d be content to watch from the stands with me. Maybe you could use your connections to get me another pass.”
“Maybe.”
“I bet Kent would give me one if you asked. I wouldn’t get in the way.”
“That’s true. You might be tall, but you’re pretty skinny so you wouldn’t take up much space in the pits.”
“I am not skinny.”
He stuck the key in the lock, propped his cane against the door frame and turned to span her waist with his hands. He demonstrated his point by tapping his thumbs together. “Slender, then.”
“That doesn’t prove anything. You have big hands.”
He tightened his grip and lifted her until her feet left the floor. “You weigh next to nothing.”
Laughing, she braced her hands on his shoulders. “And you’re showing off.”
“Uh-huh. All those bench presses at the gym have to be good for something.”
Becky curled her fingers, the better to appreciate the flexing going on beneath his shirt. “I figured that you must work out.”
“Yeah, I’m a big believer in exercise.” He lowered her slowly until her face was level with his. The tips of her toes still weren’t touching the floor. “Some forms are more enjoyable than others.”
“Oh? Like what?”
He smiled and wiggled his eyebrows.
Becky knew he was teasing. Apart from their conversation at the Grossos’ barbecue, for the remainder of the weekend they’d both kept things light between them. They’d been flirting, nothing more. So she couldn’t believe the wave of heat that raced through her at the thought of more intimate activities with Jake. Except for his hands on her waist and hers on his shoulders, they were barely touching. She wanted more. Much more. “Um, Jake?”
“Yeah?”
“You don’t need to prove how strong you are. I already know that.”
“Really?”
“All I have to do is watch you move. Aren’t you going to put me down?”
Within Striking Distance Page 11