by CP Smith
His eyes were hooded like the night before, his arousal pressing against my leg, and for half a second, I almost leaned in so I could have more of his delicious mouth.
“What are you doin’?” I panted, ridiculously flustered, my cheeks flushed with heat.
He picked up a strand of my hair, drawing it between his fingers, then kissed the tip of my nose, causing a flutter in my chest. “In this line of work, I’ve learned there may not be a tomorrow, so you shouldn’t take a moment for granted just because you think you’ll have a thousand more. Tonight reaffirmed that. So right now, at this moment, I’m not takin’ for granted what I feel when I touch you . . . Take a chance and go out with me,” he whispered.
A warmth curled around my chest and decided to take up residence near my heart. But I kept my wits about me and shook my head. “I can’t.”
“Is it someone else?” His eyes narrowed until they were mere slits.
I could have lied and said yes, effectively stopping his pursuit dead in its tracks, but for some reason, I couldn’t. “No, I told you there’s no man in my life.”
“Then why?” his deep timbre echoed against my chest, rolling down between my legs. It felt so far from bad to be lying on him while his large hands ran up and down my spine, I had to bite my lip to keep from groaning.
“Because rumor has it that I shouldn’t. I’ve told you this.”
“You believe every rumor you hear as fact?” he asked incredulously, with just a bit of bite to it. I blanched at his tone then rolled and climbed off the gurney, feeling like a child who’d been chastised.
He let me go without a fight, crossing his arms, opening his wound further.
“I’ve known you all of twenty-four hours,” I defended, “but I’ve heard all about you from women who have no reason to lie to me.” I shouldn’t have put myself in this position, I realized. I should have let someone else take care of him, but my stupid heart had led instead of my head. “I won’t go out with you and become another notch on your bedpost. I’ve lived through that once already with my ex. He jumped into bed with the first busty blonde that crossed his path. I won’t go through it again.”
“Notch on my bedpost?” he growled, his eyes heating with fire. “Show me this proof I’m some asshole who treats women like shit.”
I bit my lip.
“Right. That’s what I thought,” he rumbled low, his voice like thunder before a storm. “Did it ever occur to you that just maybe they heard it from someone who doesn’t know what the fuck they’re talkin’ about? That this so-called rumor is just speculation without proof?”
I shook my head in answer.
“Then think about that the next time someone runs their mouth off about me or anyone else, for that matter.”
I jerked at his condemnation, feeling more humiliated by the moment because he was right. He may or may not be who I thought he was, but that didn’t negate the fact that I’d listened to gossip without checking the facts for myself.
Turning to leave so I could escape further humiliation, I grabbed the curtain to pull it back. “Susan,” James called out as I went to leave. “What if I’m not who you think I am? What if I’m not some asshole playin’ a fuckin’ game?”
I stopped but didn’t turn my head to look at him. I was embarrassed he’d called me out for listening to idle gossip, but I still had no reason to believe him either.
“What if you are?” I questioned softly, then fled the room, needing distance from his overwhelming presence.
Before I turned the corner, I heard his reply and wished I hadn’t. “What if you’re my destiny?” his tired voice echoed with a sigh.
Those words followed me into the night as I jumped into my Mustang. I’d sent Kathy Herbst to handle James, then snuck out before Kari or Jamila saw me.
I needed a break from all things James Mayson—including my friends’ good intentions—and there was only one place I knew I could go where no one would bother me. With that in mind, I decided to head home, pack a bag, and drive to Nashville. I’d visit my parents and forget about everything James Trevor Mayson until I came back.
“With any luck, he’ll have forgotten about me while I’m gone,” I mumbled as the wind whipped my hair around. I frowned at the thought he would stop pursuing me and felt a knot form in my throat. “Shit,” I gasped. “I’ve gone and fallen for the arrogant man.”
With a groan, I pushed the pedal to the floor.
Thirty minutes later, I was on the road headed toward Nashville. I needed gas, but I didn’t stop in town to avoid running into James. There was a truck stop right as you pulled onto the highway, so I headed there first. After pumping my gas, I went inside the all-night diner. I was still rattled about the encounter with James, so I decided a cup of coffee would settle my thoughts before the drive to Nashville. Scanning the counter, I found an empty seat at the end and headed to it.
“You want coffee?” a young woman with a subtle European accent asked, setting a cup and saucer in front of me.
I looked up at her name tag. It said Marieke. I tried sounding it out in my head but figured I’d fail big time if I attempted it, so I smiled in response instead. “Yes, please. And,” I scanned the plastic menu on the bar as she poured weak looking coffee into my cup, “peach cobbler with vanilla ice cream on top.”
She wrote down my order then made her way to the kitchen. The man sitting next to me got up and threw a few dollar bills on the counter and left. Before Marieke could even come back and clear his plates, a young woman slid into the chair.
I turned to smile at her, but her head was dipped and her long brown hair, almost the same color as mine, was shielding her face. I turned back to add sugar and creamer to my coffee, my thoughts quickly drifting to James.
If he was a Casanova, as Jamila and Kari had said, why was he pursuing me with such determination? And why would he call me out for believing rumors if they were true?
I chewed on my lip as I considered this, but I wasn’t so lost in thought that I missed the young woman beside me slowly reach up and try to pocket the two bills left by the previous customer.
I cleared my throat in disapproval, and she dropped them, hanging her head again.
Turning in my chair to get a better look at the would-be thief, I took in her appearance. Her hair was tangled and her clothes looked like she’d fallen in soot. The scent wafting from her hair was a mixture of fuel and rubber. I looked down at her hand resting on her jeans and saw her nails had dirt underneath them, but her hands were clean as if she’d washed them before coming inside.
Something had happened to this woman. Something bad. The nurse in me stood up and took notice.
“Are you all right?” I whispered, so no one else could hear.
She stiffened in response.
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
She turned her head slightly, not giving me a full view of her features, her eyes darting around the room. Then she leaned in and said, “I’m running from my boyfriend. He’s crazy, and if he catches me, he’ll kill me.”
I jerked in response, caught off guard by her admission. I knew she was in trouble, but I hadn’t expected her to say she was running for her life.
“Then we should call the sheriff,” I immediately replied, thinking of James.
Her face blanched and she shook her head rapidly. “No. That won’t help.”
“But—”
“Cops can’t help me, trust me on that. No cops. Please,” she begged. I could feel the desperation and fear emanating from her. It was thick and suffocating. I didn’t know why she didn’t trust the police, but I figured she had her reasons, so I let that go.
Marieke placed my cobbler in front me, causing me to jump. She looked between the young woman and myself, then back at me as she picked up her tip and cleared the dishes. “Everything okay?”
“Peachy,” I replied, grabbing my fork.
When Marieke was out of earshot, I turned back to the woman. “I saw you try
to steal the tip. Are you broke?”
She nodded. “I had to leave quickly. I don’t even have my purse or identification. I just need to disappear before he figures out I’m gone.”
I could hear the fear in her voice, knew she wasn’t lying to gain sympathy, so I opened my purse without blinking an eye and pulled out what cash I had. “It’s not much, but you can have it.”
Her eyes filled with tears, but she didn’t hesitate to snatch the money from my outstretched hand. “I can’t repay you.” Her eyes darted around.
“You don’t have to repay me.”
She started to get up, clearly in a hurry to put distance between her and the Murfreesboro area, and I panicked. She needed more help than what I’d given her, which was clear from her appearance. What she needed was someone like James, but I sensed she’d bolt if I tried to call the authorities.
“Wait,” I said, grabbing her arm. “Let me see if they have an ATM. You won’t get far with what I gave you.”
Her eyes rounded in surprise, but she didn’t object, so I stood from the counter and walked over to the cashier, asking if they had an ATM.
I pulled out the maximum amount I could withdraw at one time, then wrote down my name and phone number on the ATM receipt and folded it around the cash.
She watched me with careful eyes as I approached. “What’s your name?” I asked before giving her the money.
The woman hesitated, but not for long. “Sara Watson.”
I smiled. “I’m Susan. My name and phone number are on the ATM slip, so if you find yourself in need again, call me. I know a deputy who can help you.” Even though I wasn’t sure about James as a love interest, I felt deep down he was a good cop.
She looked at the money, and her lip began to tremble. “You’re a lifesaver.”
“I can take you as far as Nashville,” I offered, hoping to do more for the frightened woman.
She shook her head. “I have a car and family in Florida, so I’m heading there.”
Since there was nothing else I could do for her, I gave her arm a gentle squeeze, then said my goodbyes. I watched her from my rearview mirror inside the diner before I left, praying she found her way, wondering if I’d ever hear from her again.
Unfortunately for her, I did.
It took all of three days before she made an appearance back in my life . . .
THREE
JAMES DROVE THE BALING hooks deep into the hay, deeper than they needed to be. He was working out his frustration on the dry grass with little success. It had been three days since he’d seen Susan at the hospital and with each day that passed, he grew concerned. He’d called the hospital and found out she was off, but that’s all they would tell him. He’d considered running a check on her background information to find out where her parents lived, but he wanted to earn her trust, not push her away by digging into her past without permission.
“Fuckin’ gossip,” he bit out, as he dropped the hay into a horse stall. He had a pretty good idea who had started the gossip, too. He knew one of the nurses at the hospital, had seen her when he’d visited Shaun Jones the day before.
Pulling a rag from his back pocket, he wiped the sweat from his brow and surveyed his small farm. He’d bought the two-story home from his parents when they’d retired, so he could raise his own family on the land he grew up on. His memories of chasing fireflies and toads were some of the best of his life thus far. He couldn’t wait to fill the house with his own kids, to make memories with them so they could look back on their childhood like he had, with a smile.
He just needed a family to fill it, first.
The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm glow on the land, as his radio crackled to life in his truck. It was his day off, but he was never off duty. Not since he helped organize the Rutherford County S.W.A.T. team.
James turned his ear toward his truck and listened, wondering why they hadn’t paged him if there was a situation brewing.
“63-7 this is headquarters.” Nettie Smith was on duty again. He’d seen her the day before, and she’d teased him about using her to find out Susan’s address. He didn’t let slip it was for personal reasons, but the wink he gave her had confirmed what she suspected.
James threw the baling hooks on the ground and moved to his truck, grabbing his handheld.
“This is Mayson. Over.”
“We’ve got a 187 off Dixie Highway and Hurricane Creek.”
Murder victim. Christ.
“Roger that. Is a detective en route?” he asked, wondering why she contacted him.
“Crime scene is en route, but . . .”
The hair on his neck began to stand on end. “But what?”
“The victim didn’t have any identification on her.” He could tell she was working up to something, and his gut clenched. “But she had an ATM receipt in her pocket. We ran a check on the name, and the victim matches the height and hair color.”
He closed his eyes and braced. He didn’t know who was lying dead in a field near Hurricane Creek, but Nettie sure as hell knew and didn’t want to tell him.
“Spit it out, Nettie,” James ordered.
“The ATM receipt belonged to a Susan Elizabeth Montgomery.”
Time stood still as the information sunk in slowly, then it restarted as the implication of what she’d relayed hammered home. “Jesus,” he bit out, then climbed into his truck and took off at a high rate of speed with his sirens blaring.
It took him ten minutes to reach Hurricane Creek. Nettie kept reaching out to him as he drove, her concerned voice amplifying his fear. He pulled to a sliding stop when he reached the murder scene, then jumped out of his truck and took off, heading toward the crime scene tape. As he approached, he kept his eyes on the white sheet draping the victim. He heard voices calling out to him as he made his way toward the body, but he ignored them. He had to see for himself. Wouldn’t believe that Susan was gone until he’d seen her body with his own eyes.
Defying instructions to back away from the body, James leaned over and grabbed the corner of the sheet. But he couldn’t pull it back. Realized he didn’t want to know just yet. Fucking fate had dropped her in his lap after years of searching for the right woman, and she’d be lost to him the moment he confirmed his greatest fear.
“Mayson,” Rob Thomas, the county coroner, called out.
“I need to see Susan,” James finally said, looking Thomas in the eyes.
The coroner looked down at the body, then back at James.
“She hasn’t been confirmed as Montgomery, yet. We’ll run her prints when we get her back to the morgue.”
“If it’s Susan Montgomery, I’ll know.”
Awareness dawned quickly at what James was implying, and Thomas nodded, then walked over and knelt next to the body. Once he had the sheet in hand, he looked up at James and asked, “You ready?”
Portable floodlights had been trained on the field, illuminating the area with white-hot light to fend off the shadows made by the slowly setting sun. The June air was warm, and the heated lamps were making it warmer, but James just felt cold inside as fear crawled like a snake up his spine. He knew with certainty that if it was Susan beneath that sheet, he might never feel warmth again.
With a quick nod of his head, James bit out, “Ready.”
The sheet fell away in slow motion, catching on the victim’s hair. But even with her face partially covered by her long locks of chocolate brown, James knew it wasn’t Susan. The victim’s lips gave her away. After being up close and personal with them on three occasions, they were branded into his mind’s eye.
James turned from the body and closed his eyes in relief.
“Is it her?” Thomas asked.
He shook his head, then took a full, deep breath. His first since Nettie had called him. “It’s not her, thank Christ.” But it was someone’s daughter, and they would be devastated when they were notified.
There was commotion near the edge of the crime scene, and both Thomas and James turne
d their attention toward a detective in plain clothes approaching.
“You’re not gonna believe this shit,” Dan Pike shouted. “I don’t know what the hell is going on, but we just got a call about another body from MPD. They heard about ours, and they’re scratching their heads, hoping we can shed some light.”
Murder was rare in a city the size of Murfreesboro, so two in one night was big news. And considering the first one was linked to Susan somehow, James braced again.
“Who?” he barked out.
Pike glanced at the unknown woman beneath the white sheet, then back at James. “This one has been positively identified as one Susan Montgomery.”
____________________________
Donna Summer’s “She Works Hard for the Money” was pounding out a beat, making it hard to hear. I was sitting with Kari and Jamila having a drink, waiting for Tonya to show up. After three days of sleeping, eating, and contemplating James Mayson, I’d called the girls knowing it was their day off, and invited them to come up to Nashville so I could pick their brains about these so-called rumors. We’d decided to meet at The Electric Company, a nightclub just outside the city limits, for drinks and dancing, before heading back to Murfreesboro. I should have insisted on a diner. No one could think over the music, let alone carry on a conversation.
“What did you want to talk about?” Kari shouted.
“Let’s wait until Tonya gets here. I don’t want to repeat myself,” I shouted back.
Jamila narrowed her eyes, then turned to Kari. “She wants to talk about James Mayson.”
“Does she?” Kari asked, her lips twitching.
I dropped my head back and looked at the ceiling. A disco ball was spinning in the center of the dance floor, casting off prisms of light. They bounced across the ceiling like ghostly orbs, hypnotizing anyone who watched.
“He’s a player,” Jamila shouted at me when I didn’t answer.
I dropped my head and looked at my friends, then asked the one question I needed to be answered. “Says who?”
After three days dissecting James’s every action and reaction since I’d met him, it suddenly became clear that he wasn’t exactly acting like a player. Players were smooth; they flirted habitually until they got what they wanted. And if it didn’t work, they moved on to someone new. But James hadn’t. He was steadfast in his pursuit. I’d been gone three days, and he hadn’t stopped. I’d remotely checked my messages on my answering machine and found his deep voice waiting for me, asking me to call him. And Natalie Freeman, one of the night shift nurses, had left a message saying a man with a sexy voice had called the hospital looking for me. Players didn’t spend that much time in pursuit of sex. Especially if they looked like James. He could have any woman he wanted by smiling at them. I should know, every time his mouth pulled into a sexy grin, my body reacted as if he’d touched me.