Spring Into Love

by Chantel Rhondeau

  “I need you to run a few names, see if anyone of them has any arrest records or if anything interesting comes up.”

  I heard her moving around, probably grabbing her clipboard from her gear bag on the passenger seat of her car.

  “Okay, go ahead, I’m ready,” she announced after a moment. I read off the women on the list, and she wrote each one down. “Why exactly am I doing this?”

  I thought for a moment. If there was anyone I could trust, it was her. “I got hired to work with Ryan to find out who is threatening him. They think it’s a woman from his past, so that’s where I’m starting.”

  “All right, but why are you acting like his girlfriend?”

  I exhaled deeply. “They seemed to think it was the best cover for why they suddenly have a cop around him. With what happened in the past, it seemed like a plausible excuse.”

  She was silent for a moment. “Okay, I can see that. I still think it’s awesome, and you should take full advantage of being around that sexy beast.”

  “Really, Becca?” I replied with a chuckle.

  “Come on, if you don’t do him, you better call me so I can come over and get a shot! What I wouldn’t do for a night with him. Whew!” I could just imagine her sitting in her car fanning herself because of her hot thoughts.

  I ignored her comment and told her to call me when she got a chance to go through the names. We talked for a few more minutes about what was going on back at the department and then said our goodbyes.

  Suzette was getting the table ready for dinner, so I stuffed my notebook and papers into my backpack and enjoyed the quiet evening as the sun set. I had no idea if Ryan was back or not until Troy joined me a few minutes later.

  “So, Jackie, how was your first day on the set?” He squeezed my shoulder as he walked around me to take a seat on the other side of the table.

  “Interesting to say the least.” And I wasn’t joking. The eerie feelings from Markus, the talk with Beth, the run in with Kayla, and watching Ryan on the set were all intriguing.

  “I guess you recovered quickly from your run-in with Kayla.” He took a sip of the beer he brought out with him.

  I surveyed him for a moment. “It was no big deal,” I finally responded. I watched his eyebrows rise, causing wrinkles to appear on his dark brown brow.

  “It might not be a big deal to you, but everyone was talking about the warpath that Kayla was on after you walked out of the trailer.” He looked down at his beer bottle and pulled on the edge of the label.

  “Can I ask you a question?” he asked as he peered up at me.

  I didn’t think I could say no, so I just waited for him to go on.

  He cleared his throat. “What do you really think about him?”

  I pulled my gaze away from his and scanned the fields behind us. “It doesn’t matter what I think, Troy. I’m here to do a job, and when I’m done,” I turned my attention back to him, “I’m leaving, and Ryan goes on with his life.”

  “What if he doesn’t want you to leave?” I pondered his words for a moment.

  “Like all the rest of the women in his life, once he gets over this little hero-worship thing he has going, he’ll get tired of me and move on.” I shifted in my chair. “I’d rather be gone before that.”

  He leaned forward and set the brown bottle on the glass table with a clink. “You think he just likes you because of what you did for him? What did you call it, a hero-worship thing?”

  “Troy, there is no other reason for Ryan to like me.” I laughed, uncomfortable with the conversation. “I’m not in his league, this isn’t my life, and I don’t fit in. I’m not the kind of woman he needs.”

  He picked up his bottle, took a sip, and sat back in his chair again. “That’s where you’re wrong. You are exactly the kind of woman he needs, and wants, in his life.”

  His words, needs and wants, rotated around in my skull and I didn’t have a reply. Roseanne joined us a moment later, saving me from having to say anything further. The conversation put me on edge, and when Ryan appeared, freshly showered and looking all together mouthwatering, my heart skipped a beat and I couldn’t look him in the eye.

  Had Ryan told Troy he wanted me in his life? I couldn’t imagine Ryan needing anyone, so I knew that part of Troy’s comments were wrong.

  Ryan’s leg brushed against mine at the table, and I almost swallowed my tongue as the heat rushed up and down my thigh. I was unsettled through the rest of the meal. When Ryan pushed for me to tell him what I said to Kayla, my unbalanced emotions turned to anger. When he basically threw his list in my lap, I realized that he knew I was angry and my not talking to him had hurt him.

  “Crap,” I muttered after he left, I heard a snicker come from across the table. Troy excused himself to go do some work, and Roseanne and I pondered over the list a bit. The stars next to the names were people she felt might try to get back at Ryan. When I told her Troy had given me almost the same list and commented on those same people, she wasn’t surprised.

  I lifted the paper Ryan tossed on my lap and unfolded it. He had listed nine women on the paper, all written in a heavy print. The harshness of the writing reminded me of someone who was angry and trying to get a point across. Most of them were also named on the other two lists I received from Troy and Roseanne. I folded the paper back up and slipped it into my pocket, wondering why he was angry when he wrote them down.

  I found Ryan in his office a while later. He was leaning back in his chair with his feet resting on the dark wood of the desk, his brow was slightly furrowed as he concentrated. His hair was mussed up, and he fingered a crystal glass with a dark caramel-colored liquid in it. My heart thumped against my breastbone as my eyes roved over his strong shoulders and lean legs.

  He glanced up, and his face colored slightly. Was he embarrassed because I was watching him? He had to be used to that by now.

  He asked me if I wanted a drink, and every ounce of my heart said, yes please. But my head was stronger, and I declined. It would be so easy to lose the stress of all of this inside the liquid warmth that liquor provided. You could forget your troubles and concerns and just ride with the feeling of not caring for a while. That wasn’t my style; not anymore.

  I didn’t want to tell Ryan the truth. I didn’t want him to know that years ago, I had fallen into a deep pit of despair and had found my courage to live in a bottle for a while. My life had fallen apart one night, and for months after that, I only managed to get by when I was under the influence of some strong liquid or another.

  Jimmy is the one who finally got me to see what I was doing to myself, and gave me a shoulder to lean on and the strength to move forward.

  I did offer up to Ryan that I wasn’t a prude, and I did have a drink once in a while, but never at home and never alone. When he asked if I’d gotten my father help, the numbness that was usually associated with the death of my parents came back. I tried to push the feelings away, but they remained and I looked at the glass in his hand. Nope, not going to do it.

  “Before you ask, I don’t want to talk about it, and I know you’re sorry.” He dropped the conversation faster than I expected him to, and even changed the subject back to the reason I was there. I was grateful for that and jumped feet first into what I knew well: figuring things out.

  I was surprised when Ryan answered my questions as honestly as he did. Especially after I just lied to him, but then again, my life wasn’t in jeopardy, so I didn’t have to be truthful right now.

  The more we talked, the easier it was to discuss, and I found myself oddly comfortable on the sofa next to him. His bright blue eyes stared directly at me most of the time. I was surprised when he stood up to return his glass but sat back down again and pulled my legs onto his lap. The back of my calves were on fire from where they rested on his warm thighs. His hand lay gently on my shin, and if I could have looked at my skin, I swear it would’ve been branded with his palm print.

  I fought to hold back the feelings he created in me, the
lustful images of him and I tangled on the couch and the hand that was doing lazy circles on my leg roving over my naked body.

  “Ryan, what are you doing?” I feared speaking any louder than I did, not wanting him to hear the emotions crackling in my voice.

  “Nothing, I’m just relaxing and trying to get you to relax, too.” His voice was deep, husky, and soft. Little warning bells rang in my head: Time to get the hell out of there.

  I started climbing off the sofa, but before I could get to my feet, I was on his lap, gazing into his heated eyes and feeling his hard body against mine. I tried to get away—okay, I tried half-heartedly to get away—but once he admitted that he wanted to kiss me, I was lost in the sight of his soft lips and the entrancing blue of his eyes.

  He tasted of scotch and I soaked up the warm taste from his mouth. His hungry lips moved down my neck. I lost myself for a moment in the incredible feelings he stirred in me.

  He whispered in my ear that he wanted me like no other woman. Of course not; none of the other women on your list had saved your life twice. The conversation with Troy raged back into my head, and I pushed away from him and stood up. My breathing was ragged and my body was hot, begging for the release that it so badly wanted him to give it.

  I apologized for what had happened and stepped back when he stood. Of course I wanted him! I wanted him more than I had ever wanted a man before, but I couldn’t.

  “Wanting is not something I allow myself to do,” I told him, and my head screamed at my heart that it was lying. Wanting was all I could do! I could never give any more than that to a person. I made some lame excuse about not wanting to be girl number ten and fled the room.

  Tears threatened the back of my eyes as I made my way upstairs to my room. With my mind in such turmoil, I didn’t even stop to look out through the glass as I crossed the bridge.

  After I closed the door to my room, I plopped onto the bed. My phone buzzed, I yanked it off my belt and tossed it on the floor. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I wanted to wallow in self-pity.

  I would never be able to fall in love with a man again. It wasn’t that I couldn’t, I could; and I feared that if I fell into Ryan’s arms too many times in the peace and quiet of this house, that I would fall for this man. So many things told me that was a bad idea.

  He was a Hollywood playboy, a movie star god, and a multi-millionaire, while I was just a plain old small-town police detective. I solved crimes; he created moments that pulled us away from reality. He was this incredibly gorgeous specimen of a man, and I was just an average looking woman.

  But the most pressing point was that I was not free to love. I had done that once, loved with all my heart, and lost everything. I had been taught a lesson and knew that if I ever allowed another man into my heart, it would put his life in jeopardy. I wasn’t just talking about a few notes, or a bottle of water with something in it to make you sick; I was talking about true death.

  A death sentence had been put over me to punish me for doing my job. For the thousandth time since I had first fallen on the case in my second year on the job, I wished I had never been involved. Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes and rolled back into my hair. I would never be free to love again; all because I had put a stray piece of the puzzle together and one of the highest-ranking members of the mafia was now behind bars for life.

  Chapter 21

  Ryan

  I’m not sure how I got to sleep that night, but somehow I did. When I woke in the early morning, I felt rested enough. Who couldn’t use a little more sleep, huh? Like four or five consecutive hours?

  I groaned as my feet touched the thick Berber carpeting on my floor and the heels of my hands ground against my eye sockets. Four a.m. was way too early, especially when you didn’t fall asleep until after midnight. Marie was going to bend my ear while she did my makeup this morning.

  With a grunt, I forced myself to get up and into the shower. The water helped to open my eyes, but it didn’t take the sandpaper off the inside of my sockets.

  I thought back to when I climbed into bed last night. Fantasies of Jackie lying beside me, my hands sliding over her soft skin and into her silky hair kept me tossing and turning. I thought about the last kiss we shared and how she pushed me away when I told her I wanted her like I had never wanted anyone else.

  Her come back of being girl number ten had stung, plain and simple. Had I known a woman like Jackie would come into my life, I would have acted differently; I would have waited and not been such a playboy. Yeah, right. Who was I kidding?

  I would have never thought it possible that an incredible woman like her would come into my life. She was someone who thought of others before herself, unlike me. She wanted to help them and make the world a better place. What did I do? I snorted in disgust as I washed my short blond hair. I entertained them, whoopee.

  While the water washed away the shampoo, I wondered if I could ever be half the man she wanted. Okay, maybe I should rephrase that. I knew she wanted me, but could she ever need me? I felt like I needed her, and not just physically. Now that I had her beside me, taking part in my everyday moments, I craved more time with her. More time to see her smile, watch her work, see how her mind ticked, and find out more about her past.

  I poured some liquid soap onto my hand while I wondered about her past. Other than talking about her father for a brief moment and knowing she was involved with Jim, I didn’t know anything at all about her life. I needed to fix that.

  Maybe if I stopped thinking like a man trying to get close to her, and just acted like a friend, I could breach some of the walls around her and find out more.

  I rinsed and grabbed my razor, deciding that would be my new goal: Get to know the real Jacquelyn Liveon.

  Somewhere between washing and shaving, I found a new energy and rushed to finish dressing. I wanted to put my plan in motion.

  When I got down stairs, Troy, Roseanne, and Jackie were in the kitchen sipping coffee and picking at some Danishes that Suzette had left out for them.

  “Morning!” I cleared my throat to get rid of the huskiness and scanned over everyone with a grin on my face.

  “Aren’t you chipper this morning. Looks like someone got a good night’s sleep,” Roseanne quipped as she took a bite of a strawberry pastry.

  I grinned. No one needed to know that I had barely slept, or that I had a new plan. I poured my coffee and made my way to the table, snagging a Danish from the tray as I sat down.

  “How is everyone this morning?” I watched as they glanced at one another.

  Troy put his coffee cup down. “Fine, and why the hell are you so awake?”

  I shrugged and took a very small sip of my hot coffee. “Don’t know. I just woke up in a good mood.” I looked pointedly at Jackie, who raised one eyebrow just a tad and tilted her head to the side.

  “Oh, damn!” Roseanne burst out and jumped off her chair. “I have to be in town in fifteen minutes. Jackie, are you coming with me?”

  Jackie was about to rise and join Rose, but my words stopped her. “No, take Drew with you. I want Jackie with me today. Since we’re going to be in town, I’d rather have her at my side.”

  Roseanne gave Jackie a pointed look, and Jackie shrugged. “I should stick close to him since we are going to be out in public. These are the kinds of places where something could happen.”

  Rose said her goodbyes and took off in search of Drew, who was always the last one downstairs.

  “So, what’s the scene you’re doing today?” Jackie asked me as she wrapped her hands around her mug as if they were cold. She had pretty hands, I noticed.

  “We are doing the florist scene this morning and then we move to shoot one of the cemetery scenes this afternoon.”

  Her face paled. “Which scene?” she asked quietly.

  I peeked over at Troy. He was watching Jackie intently. “The one where Mitch talks to himself,” I answered.

  She inhaled deeply. “Okay, I was hoping you were not going to say t
he funeral scene. I’m sorry, but I’m not sure I can be present for that one.”

  “Why’s that?” Troy questioned.

  She looked at him. “Have you ever been to a police funeral?” We both shook our heads. “It’s a pretty intense thing and can affect you deeply.”

  “How many have you been to?”

  She looked at her mug, her fingers turning white as she gripped it. “Two. One was an officer who worked up north. I didn’t really know him.” She closed her eyes.

  “Did you know the second one?” Troy asked as he leaned forward to see her face.

  “Yes.” She opened her eyes and lifted them straight up to meet mine. A pain as I had never seen blazed from her eyes. “The second one was for my fiancé.”

  Troy and I both jerked back in our chairs, shocked by her admission. Troy put his hand over her forearm. She kept staring at me, not even blinking. What could I say? There was nothing that would ease the pain so evident on her face.

  “Well, when we get to that scene, we’ll give you a few days off,” Troy said moving forward in work mode. “Speaking of scenes, we need to get moving in a few minutes. I’ll be right back.”

  Troy got up and left the room, but neither of us saw him leave. We were still focused on each other.

  “I know this is just a job, and maybe there are some feelings that we have for each other, but it’s because of that,” she paused for a moment to catch her breath, “because of Logan’s death that I can’t get involved with you.”

  “Why does that have anything to do with us?” I almost reached out to her, but even from my seat, I could feel the hard wall around her that would rebuke my efforts.

  “It has a lot to do with it. I’m sorry, but I can’t explain it to you. I just need you to understand that we can never be more to each other than we are right now.” She finally broke the eye contact and picked up her mug.