The Redemption of Rafe Diaz

by Maggie Price

  “If that was the case, property most likely would have been missing from the scene. At the very least, the bracelet she was wearing when her body was found would have been long gone.” Rafe narrowed his eyes. “Did you notice it when you got to the condo and found her body?”

  “I was focused on the fact that she was dead,” Bishop shot back. “What bracelet are you talking about?”

  “The twin to the one your wife had on last night. The diamonds are heart-shaped. Apparently, you bought a matching one for Mercedes.”

  “That’s right. She saw a picture of Ellen wearing her bracelet. Mercedes pouted about wanting one like it, so I had it made. But she couldn’t have been wearing it the night she died.”

  “Why?”

  “The clasp came loose so I took it to a jeweler for repair before the murder. With all that’s gone on, I forgot about it until right now.” Bishop dug his billfold out of his back pocket. “I’ve got the jeweler’s claim ticket. The bracelet is still there.”

  “Maybe Mercedes checked to see if the repair work was finished? It was, so she picked it up herself.”

  “She didn’t know what jeweler I took the bracelet to.” Bishop scowled at the claim ticket. “If this wasn’t Sunday, I’d call right now and find out if they still have it.”

  “Why don’t you let me check with the jeweler in the morning?” Already it sounded like there was something strange going on with the bracelet. If that was the case, Rafe wanted to find out for himself.

  The hard clip of footsteps had him looking up in time to see Guy Jones headed their way.

  “Diaz, you look like you had a rough night,” he said, pausing beside Rafe.

  “You might say that,” he said, scrubbing a hand over his stubbled jaw. His watching Allie’s boathouse had turned into a hell of a lot more than a simple stakeout.

  “I’m in the same boat. My wife and I spent a couple of hours after we left the auction trying to get Ellen sober.”

  Jones turned his attention to his brother-in-law. “The Realtor’s got another party interested in this building. This location is prime. I say we make an offer and put down a deposit before it slips away.”

  Bishop crossed his arms over his chest. “It’ll take millions just to bring this place up to code. You want to make a personal investment in it, fine. The company isn’t touching it.”

  Rafe watched Jones’s brows knit in a single dark line of temper. “Dammit, this neighborhood is on the rise. Every piece of property in it is positioned to triple in value.”

  “Then you ought to have no problem using your own money to buy the place.”

  “My own money is mostly tied up right now in paying for the dream wedding Katie’s always wanted.”

  “Sorry, Guy. This place just isn’t a sound investment.”

  “Forget it.” Jones sliced a hand through the air. “But you’re making a mistake that’s gonna cost our company big.” With that, he turned and stalked off.

  “I’ll catch hell from my baby sister for upsetting him,” Bishop muttered. “Want some advice, Diaz? Don’t go into business with a relative.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Look, let’s get back to the bracelet. I bought Mercedes a half-dozen gold ones, all with different types of gems. It’s possible Allie’s wrong about which one Mercedes had on. After all, Allie had just found her dead. She was probably in shock. Maybe you should recheck that with her. Make sure.”

  “I plan to.” Accepting fate, Rafe slid the claim check into the pocket. Even if he wanted to avoid Allie, it’d be damn hard to do the way her name kept cropping up in his investigation.

  “It’s too bad Liz got caught up in paperwork and couldn’t meet us here,” Claire Castle said after she and Allie finished checking all three floors of the warehouse. “Maybe she would have spotted something out of place.”

  Hands planted on her hips, Allie swept her gaze around the large, airy room where a dozen sewing machines sat at individual workstations. Cutting tables were positioned at the rear of the room. Shelves holding countless spools of thread in every color of the rainbow lined one entire wall.

  Bolts of silk, satin, lace and ribbon were aligned according to color. Clear plastic containers held an array of the beads, spangles and pearls that would be handstitched onto purses and slippers.

  As always, the floor was spotless, the shelves orderly, the workstations pristine.

  “I doubt Liz would have had any more luck than we did,” Allie said. “There just isn’t anything out of place.”

  “You ought to know.” Claire glanced around. “Do you still want to take the trousseau items to the shop?”

  Allie shoved a hand through her hair and eased out a breath. She’d taken time to shower after she and Claire got the shop back into a halfway orderly state, but the hot water had done nothing to ease the throb in her right knee from her crash landing when Slater’s car exploded. Or lessen the fatigue that made her eyes feel like they’d been scrubbed with sand. Then there was the whammy Rafe’s kiss had delivered to her system. That she’d forgotten about the trousseau items was a clear sign her brain wasn’t operating on all cylinders.

  “Yes, thanks for the reminder,” Allie said. “All three brides have appointments for fittings next week at the shop.”

  “It’s not like you don’t have plenty to deal with,” Claire said, following Allie to a large closet. “You’ve been through enough to put anyone’s emotions into overdrive.”

  Allie unhooked a hot pink garment bag off the closet’s rod and handed it to Claire. “I did have an eventful night.”

  “Not to mention an interesting close encounter a couple of hours ago,” Claire murmured as Allie carried two additional garment bags out of the closet.

  Because Claire’s husband had shown up to help straighten up the shop right after Rafe left, and the friends had driven separately to the warehouse, Allie had waited until they arrived to tell Claire about the kiss she and Rafe had shared. Although hours had passed, her insides still felt like scorched earth.

  “Interesting isn’t the word I’d use,” Allie said as they laid the garment bags on one of the worktables. “Rafe and I agreed that kissing each other was a bad idea. In my opinion, that’s true for several reasons.”

  “I take it one is what happened between you in the past.”

  Allie nodded. “I’m sure when he looks at me, he pictures me in that courtroom, testifying against him.”

  “You told the truth.”

  “Even so, he was innocent and went to prison partly because of my testimony. That’s what you call heavy baggage.”

  “Okay, that’s one reason,” Claire said. “You said there were several.”

  “I’m not interested in getting involved in a serious relationship with any man. You know that.”

  “Yes, I do. And I understand why you feel that way. But you’re being unfair to yourself to let the way your parents dealt with their own unhappiness rule how you live your life.”

  “It might be unfair, but that’s the way it is.” It still hurt. No matter how often Allie told herself it was foolish to dwell on what had happened so many years ago, the pain and confusion she suffered as a child still bled into the woman.

  Claire leaned against the table. “Besides, just because you kiss a man who happens to be a mega-gorgeous hunk doesn’t mean what’s between you is destined to be serious. Why not spend some time together? Simply enjoy each other?”

  Allie thought about the closeness she had experienced with Rafe that she’d felt with no other man. She hadn’t mentioned that aftereffect of the kiss to Claire. No way could she begin to try to explain such an alien emotion when just the thought of it formed a ball of ice in her belly.

  “Look, there’s no chance two people can develop any kind of relationship when they don’t see each other.”

  “Are you forgetting that Rafe called fifteen minutes ago to say he’s on his way here?”

  “I haven’t forgotten. He’s comin
g here on business. After I walk him through this place, I doubt our paths will cross again unless something about his investigation comes up. Heaven knows he has his hands full trying to get his client off the hook for Mercedes’s murder. As for me, with the shop, my designs, the upcoming kickoff of my Web site and the foundation, I don’t have a lot of spare time in my schedule.”

  “You could bring Rafe to dinner,” Clair suggested. “It’s our Sunday supper night and there’s always plenty of food.”

  Allie gave her friend a narrow-eyed look. After Claire and Jackson married, they had started the ritual of having Liz and Allie over for dinner one Sunday night each month. Sam Broussard had joined the group after he and Liz started dating. Claire, a consummate romantic, was forever urging Allie to bring a date. Allie never had. She doubted she would ever meet a man who mattered enough to share with her friends.

  “Thanks, but inviting Rafe would be as bad an idea as our kissing was.” Allie turned to the worktable. “I need to make sure all trousseau items are in each bag before I take them to my car.”

  “I have to make potato salad for tonight. Unless you need me to hang around, I’ll take off.”

  “Go ahead.” Allie gave her friend’s arm a squeeze. “I appreciate all you and Jackson have done today. And on top of everything else, you’re feeding me dinner.”

  Claire grinned. “That’s what friends are for.”

  Ten minutes later, Allie had double checked the items inside two of the garment bags and was unzipping the third when she heard footsteps coming along the hallway.

  Her fingers tightened reflexively on the zipper. She’d called the security guard now posted at the warehouse’s front door and told him to let Rafe in when he arrived, so she knew who the footsteps belonged to.

  Knew, too, it was ridiculous that just the prospect of seeing Rafe again had her pulse thudding hard and thick at the base of her throat. Nothing could develop between them.

  She didn’t want anything to develop.

  Not with Rafe or any other man. She’d grown up watching people leave. Her mother. The seemingly endless succession of women her father married, then divorced. Even the servants she’d grown close to eventually moved on.

  All that leaving had soured Allie on relationships in general.

  Then she looked toward the doorway and saw Rafe. Tall, lean, his black hair mussed, looking impossibly masculine and sexy and in need of a shave. And that mouth, so beautifully sculpted, even if it did tend to scowl.

  As her heartbeat slowed and thickened and the pounding of her pulse grew to mask all lesser sounds, she knew one thing she did want.

  To feel that mouth on hers again.

  Chapter 8

  Rafe caught a whiff of Allie’s alluring scent as he followed the security guard’s directions along the warehouse’s second-floor hallway. By the time he stepped through the door to the workroom and saw her, every muscle in his body was tight.

  She stood before a long worktable, which held several hot pink garment bags. One of the bags was open, displaying a rainbow of pastel-colored silks.

  Sometime after he’d left her shop, she had changed out of the red top and torn-at-the-knee jeans. Now she wore a sleeveless turquoise shell, black capris and black strappy sandals. Her hair was brushed back from her face in a long, waving stream of golden blond. Her lightly tanned skin looked spa-perfect.

  When she looked up and met his gaze, the rush of emotion that sparked in her blue eyes was too scattered for him to interpret. Was she thinking about the kiss that had knocked him for a loop? Regretting it had happened? Wishing she’d pushed him away? Was she wondering—like he was—if she’d ever get his taste out of her system?

  Just seeing her again had him wanting to drag her against him, capture her mouth with his all over again and plunder.

  Not going to happen, he reminded himself. The insidious need that now sizzled to life inside of him every time he got around her could be controlled. Had to be controlled.

  He blocked out the thought that there were some things between heaven and earth that weren’t meant to be held in check. He was here on business. He’d take care of it, then get the hell away from this woman who with one look could shake the restraint he had believed so unshakable.

  As he walked toward her, his gaze did a quick sweep of the room. It was spacious, filled with worktables, sewing machines and shelves that held bolts of frothy-colored fabric, ribbon and lace. He glanced into an open closet before pausing beside the table where Allie stood.

  Up close, he saw that her cheeks were pale with fatigue. “I don’t know about you,” he began, “but this is turning out to be one heck of a long day.”

  When she nodded, light glittered as it caught the dangle of the dark blue stones at her ears. Their color was a shade darker than her eyes. “Claire and I were talking about everything that’s happened since last night,” she said. “Add ‘little sleep’ to the mix, and it’s hard to take it all in.”

  “Speaking of Claire, I thought she and Liz would be here.”

  “Claire was. She had to leave to get some things done. Liz never made it. When I called to ask if she could meet us, she said she’d gotten held up at the station with paperwork.”

  “Too bad. I want to check if she’s got any leads on who hired Slater, which might point to why he wanted in here.” Rafe checked his watch. “I’ll try to get in touch with Liz later.”

  For an instant, a look of indecision settled in Allie’s eyes.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Nothing.” She reached into the unzipped garment bag and plucked out a beaded evening purse that looked like an oversized clamshell. “I just…had a thought about something.” She laid the purse aside. “Did you learn anything from Hank Bishop?”

  The speed at which she changed the subject had Rafe curious about what that something was.

  “Maybe,” he replied vaguely.

  “I shouldn’t have asked.” As she spoke, Allie removed several padded hangers from the garment bag that held what looked like an assortment of robes, gowns and other filmy pieces of lingerie. “Hank is your client. I don’t expect you to discuss your case with me.”

  “There is something I need to ask you.”

  “What?”

  Rafe picked up the beaded bag. It was bigger than his palm and the variegated rows of coral, gold and white beads rendered the sides as hard as a real clamshell. “Are you positive the bracelet Mercedes had on when you found her was identical to the one Ellen Bishop wore last night at the silent auction?”

  Angling her chin, Allie shot him a cynical look. “What, you think I don’t know jewelry?”

  Pure reflex had him flicking a finger against one of her earrings, sending it swinging. “I suspect you own enough of the pricey stuff to open a jewelry store. So if you tell me you’re positive about what bracelet Mercedes was wearing, I’ll know for sure.”

  When he pulled his hand back, his fingertip grazed her cheek. Instantly, a tension as old as Adam and Eve settled in the air. Rafe stood, motionless, gazing down at the woman he was fast becoming unable to resist while his mouth went dry and his gut clenched.

  Dammit, he wanted her. So badly his teeth ached. So badly that if she gave him any sign that she wanted him, too, he’d shove all those garment bags and pieces of silk and satin off the table and take her right there.

  He watched nerves rush across her face before she dropped her gaze back to the worktable. With grim satisfaction, he noted a slight trembling in her hands when she reached for a peach-colored teddy. At least he wasn’t the only one that touch had gotten to.

  “When I found Mercedes dead, she was wearing the gold bracelet with heart-shaped diamonds,” Allie said as she examined the teddy’s side seams. “I’m sure of it.” In the next instant, she looked up, awareness snapping into her eyes. “It just occurred to me she had that bracelet on when I saw her earlier that same day.”

  “Where?”

  “Here.” Allie laid the teddy aside. �
�In fact, I was standing at this very table, going over these items with my head seamstress. They’re for Katie Jones’s trousseau.”

  Rafe pictured the thin-as-a-shoestring young woman from last night’s auction. “Why did Mercedes come here?”

  “She’d made some new sketches for her evening bag line and wanted to discuss them with me. When she arrived, she was in a rush because she’d just gotten a call from her lover, who told her he was taking her to Paris that night.” Allie shrugged. “That would have been Hank Bishop.”

  “Yeah.” Rafe opened the clamshell-shaped bag. Its satin lining was snow-white and looked as soft as a cloud. “Did Mercedes have an office here?”

  “No, she wasn’t an employee. She just designed evening bags, including the one you’re holding. If I liked her designs, I bought all rights to them. Usually when I saw Mercedes it was at my shop. And she didn’t come here that last time solely to deliver her designs. She’d called and said she wanted to take the lingerie she had on order with her to Paris. I told her the only way her things would be ready was if she came here for a fitting. That way, I could have one of my seamstresses do the final alterations. Before Mercedes rushed out, she promised she would pick up her order from the shop that evening.”

  “When she didn’t show up, you wound up delivering it and found her dead.”

  “That’s right.”

  Rafe snapped the beaded purse closed and laid it on the table. “When you looked around here today, did you find anything out of place? Something that’s here that shouldn’t be?”

  “Nothing. Claire and I checked—there just isn’t anything not normal. It’s beyond me why Slater wanted in here.” She raked a hand through her hair, leaving it appealingly mussed. “Do you want me to show you around the other floors?”

  Rafe shook his head. “I saw a lot of the first floor when I came in. Looks like that’s where all the packaging and shipping take place.”

  “And inspecting. None of my merchandise leaves without a final examination.”