All I Want Is You (Kimani Romance)

by Girard, Dara

  “We?” Monica said, her voice cracking with surprise. “Why?” she asked, following him out of the kitchen.

  “To take this guy to the vet.”

  “But I don’t need to go with you.”

  JD walked briskly to his car. “You look like you could use a drive, and things might have changed so much that I’d get lost.” He opened up the trunk and reached for his suitcase. “It won’t take long and—son of a…” He dropped the suitcase on the ground and swore.

  Monica rushed toward him. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” he said through clenched teeth. He took a deep breath. “I just grabbed it with the wrong arm.”

  “I can take it for you.” She reached down to lift it.

  JD gently shoved her aside. “I’m an idiot, not an invalid.” He walked back into the house then up the stairs. “Which room is mine?”

  Monica hurried after him. “It’s on the right, but—”

  He opened the door, stopped in the doorway and looked around. Watch his face, she remembered Nadine had said, but Monica couldn’t tell what he thought of the room. She didn’t know what Nadine expected her to see. What would a man like JD think of a room with a strange mix of Midwestern wood furniture and a hand-carved bamboo side table. An enormous mahogany sleigh bed filled the room, accented by an elegant brass regency table lamp. Off to the side stood a handsome antique rolltop desk and an overstuffed leather executive chair. Behind it was a large window that framed the view outside like a work of art. Except for an abstract painting of a musician that hung over his bed, nothing else was displayed. Several tufted rugs added a needed warmth to the room, providing cover for the worn wooden floors.

  “I got the larger room,” Monica said to fill the silence. “But your grandmother made sure this one would be comfortable for you.”

  JD turned to her, but she still couldn’t read his expression. “It’s perfect,” he said, but she didn’t believe him. She was certain that he found something unsettling but sensed he wouldn’t tell her what it was.

  “If you need anything—”

  “I won’t be long.” He winked. “Wait for me,” he said then closed the door.

  Monica stared at the door, stunned. He was like a steamroller. Stopping him was impossible, but she didn’t have to go with him into town. His excuse to have her go with him was flimsy and ridiculous. He’d never get lost. She was sure his luxury car had a GPS system with a sexy female voice that would take him wherever he wanted to go.

  Yes, she could refuse him. She would refuse him. The moment he came out of his bedroom she would tell him she wasn’t going. She’d tell him that she had better things to do than chauffer him around. He probably thought she was a pushover, but she’d let him know different and she’d let him know now. Monica raised her hand to pound on the door at the same time JD opened it. She ended up hitting him in the chest.

  She yanked her hand back. “Oh, sorry.”

  JD glanced down at the spot where she’d struck him, and the corner of his mouth kicked up in a quick grin. “No problem.” His eyes met hers. “Told you I’d be quick.” He was dressed in a pair of khaki trousers and a long-sleeve, cotton gray shirt. But the fact that his chest was now covered didn’t seem to hamper her imagination. The shirt fit him well and the steel color seemed to symbolize his hard physique and manner.

  But Monica wouldn’t let him bully her. She had a resolve just as steely as his. “Yes, you did say that, but—”

  JD brushed past her, his body pressing against hers before he went to the stairs. The moment was brief but not brief enough. For one wild instant his chest and those firm nipples of his touched her breasts like a caress. She knew that while he was here the farmhouse wouldn’t be a place of safety. “Whatever you want to say, tell me on the road.”

  “That’s just it,” Monica said, trying to keep up with him as he bounded down the stairs. “I don’t need to take you.”

  JD scooped up Baxter, who’d remained curled up in a rumpled blanket, and grabbed a set of keys. “You’re right. I don’t need you to.” He tossed her the keys. “You’re driving,” he said and headed for the front door.

  “But you just said you don’t need—”

  He abruptly stopped and turned to face her.

  Monica stumbled back before she crashed into him.

  “I don’t need a lot of things,” he said. “I want you to come with me. It’s as simple as that.”

  Monica blinked and her mouth suddenly felt dry. “Why?”

  “I like your company.” He opened the front door and left.

  For the second time that day Monica stood stunned. He liked her company? Perhaps she was just a one-day novelty for him. He probably needed a change from the type of people who were willing to stab him to make a point. Perhaps a quick drive wouldn’t be much trouble, and she wanted to see what the vet had to say about the puppy. Afterward they’d go back to doing their own things. Monica turned and locked the door, feeling more in control.

  Perhaps the more time she spent with him, the sooner her heart would get back to normal.

  Chapter 3

  She fascinated him. JD knew it was rude to stare, but he couldn’t help himself. He found Monica Dulane intriguing. Her head was wrapped in a brown scarf with abstract shapes in black and white, but he saw a hint of coal-black hair which gave her the appearance of a cloistered nun; her glasses, with heavily tinted lenses, were too big for her face, and her clothes draped her like a sack, their colors as exciting as dry leaves. He found her dusty skin and a glimpse of her high cheekbones alluring, and noticed that she carried herself with an elegance that contradicted her dowdy outer appearance. She didn’t look more than thirty, but she dressed as if she were two decades older. He’d never forget the sight of her with a rifle in her hand or the feel of her soft, slender fingers against his skin as she bandaged his wound.

  The thought of his wound made JD inwardly groan. He’d have to deal with that situation later. He glanced in the rearview mirror at Baxter sleeping on a pile of towels in the backseat. At least he wasn’t too much of a complication. JD already had enough to deal with. He returned his gaze to the mysterious woman in the driver’s seat. She sat erect and each motion was efficient—a confident, capable woman who he was certain wasn’t all that she seemed.

  Monica touched her cheek. “Is there something on my face?”

  “No. I was just wondering what a young woman like you is doing hiding out here.”

  “I’m not that young and I’m not hiding. I like my life.”

  JD looked out at the two-lane country road, expansive woods and the farmland that bordered it. “But nothing happens here.”

  “That’s what I like.”

  “Recovering from a divorce?”

  “No, I’ve never married,” she said.

  JD nodded, not surprised. “Where were you before you came here?”

  “I traveled.”

  “Doing what?” he pressed, not satisfied with her vague answer.

  Monica tapped her thumb against the steering wheel. “I was an assistant to a top fashion model, but I can’t tell you her name.”

  “Right.” JD tilted his head to the side and studied her profile. “And you didn’t get any tips from her?”

  Monica furrowed her brow. “Tips?”

  “Yes,” he said with a broad sweep of his hand. “About clothes and makeup and that stuff.”

  “As long as she looked good and I made her life work, it didn’t matter what I looked like.”

  “Being around glamorous people didn’t rub off on you?” JD asked, amazed. “That takes a strong character.”

  “I don’t need to be glamorous. I like how I look. My clothes are comfortable and my glasses work. If you don’t like it, you can just ignore me.”

  JD let his eyes trail down her dress then up again.

  Monica gripped the steering wheel. “You’re still staring.”

  “I know.”

  “It’s rude.”
/>   “Just tell me what you’re hiding from and I’ll stop.”

  Monica gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles paled. “I told you. I’m not hiding from anything or anyone. Just because a woman doesn’t dress to attract men, she’s suddenly all sorts of things—stuck-up, prudish, a wallflower, an ex-convict.”

  JD laughed. “An ex-convict? Really?”

  “Yes,” she said without humor. “This town is very inventive when it comes to rumors.” Monica relaxed her grip a fraction. “Besides, when you’re ready to tell me the real reason for your stab wound and why you decided to wander into the woods instead of coming into the house then I’ll tell you more about myself. Until then it’s none of your business.”

  “Fair enough.” He held up a hand as if making a pledge. “No more personal questions.”

  “Thank you.”

  “But I still want to see it.”

  Monica turned to him, alarmed. “See what?”

  Her surprise made him burst into laughter. “What do you think I’m talking about?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, it’s nothing that personal, if that’s what’s bothering you.”

  “Nothing is bothering me,” Monica said in a curt tone. “I just didn’t expect the question. What do you want to see?”

  JD lowered his voice and his gaze slid down her dress. “What are you willing to show me?”

  Monica stared at him, openmouthed. “You are the most aggravating male—”

  “I want to see your studio,” he interrupted with a grin. “My grandmother told me you have one. What do you do?”

  Monica shook her head. “I don’t believe this.”

  “What? It’s not a personal question. You know I’m in business.”

  “You’re not in business—you are business. You’ve created six companies, two of which you sold for millions, and stopped the investment firm, Davidson & Daniels, from being swallowed up in a hostile takeover. You were also instrumental in helping the Securities and Exchange Commission bring down investor Glen Niel for fraud.”

  His eyes lit up with pleasure. “Ah, so you’ve been reading up on me?”

  “Your grandmother likes to brag.”

  “Okay, then it’s only fair that I know a little more about you.”

  Monica sighed, resigned. “I create jewelry.”

  “For people?”

  She turned to him, confused. “Who else?”

  “In some circles you’d be surprised what people buy their babies and pets.” JD playfully tugged on her ear. “How come you don’t wear any?”

  She swatted his hand away. “I just don’t.”

  “Why not? Or is that a personal question?”

  It was personal. She couldn’t say I don’t wear jewelry because I used to be cased in it. Diamonds and rubies. Emeralds and sapphires. People would flock to see the latest fashion I wore and I was a constant advertisement for somebody’s product, which I don’t want to be anymore.

  “It’s just not a preference.”

  JD toyed with her earlobe again, this time looking closely. “You must wear them sometimes because your ears are pierced.”

  Monica pushed his hand away again. “Weren’t you taught to keep your hands to yourself?”

  “Yes, but I’ve never had a woman complain before.”

  “Touch me again and I’ll bite you.”

  “Hmm,” he said in a deep voice. “That might be fun.”

  “Fun?”

  “Yes, to have my hand in your mouth.”

  Monica glared at him. “You are—”

  JD grabbed her chin and turned her face forward. “Watch the road. You wouldn’t want us to crash.”

  Monica gritted her teeth and glared at the road. He wasn’t flirting with her. He was making fun of her—secretly laughing at her clothes and way of life. For a moment she wanted to rip off her disguise and let him see who he was really messing with. With one look she knew she could turn his knees into putty and remove that arrogant gleam from his eyes. But he didn’t matter. Let him think he was having a little harmless fun with a backwoods nobody who appeared to be shy of men.

  JD shifted in his seat to study her more. “So how did you get started? Do you have a plan? Who are your distributors?”

  “You’re sounding like a businessman again.”

  “Probably because I am.”

  “You’re supposed to be on vacation.”

  He sighed. “Just tell me it’s profitable and I’ll leave you alone.”

  “It’s profitable.”

  “Are you saying that because it’s true or because you want me to leave you alone?”

  Monica grinned. “Take a wild guess.”

  “I might be able to help you.”

  “I don’t need your help.”

  JD held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, I won’t talk business, but I’d still like to see your studio. I’ve always been fascinated by how the artistic mind works.”

  “If you’re expecting chaos and drugs, you’ll be disappointed. I’m very ordinary.”

  He tilted his head to the side. “One thing I don’t think you are is ordinary.”

  Gerald Hicks set his phone down on his side table and grinned. He was back in action. Boy, did he like the runners. The ones who ran away from their handlers made life exciting. Hunting them down always kept him in top condition. Finding them exercised a muscle he needed to keep fit. He couldn’t afford to get rusty. He had to get into the runner’s life. He had to learn her (it was always a female) psyche. Delve into her childhood. Uncover family and friends then assimilate into their lives. Before long he knew how to think like them and anticipate their every move. Technology had helped him in his business, but he also liked going out in the field. He liked being a free agent.

  He’d started out as a bounty hunter, but the job wasn’t as glamorous and well paying as he’d hoped, so he decided to switch sides. He quickly learned that criminals paid much better and they didn’t care about which methods he used. Not that he ever hurt a woman, but in order to find them he had to be morally flexible. He worked by referrals only; his reputation was his calling card. But he’d never had to handle a runaway from Stevens before. He usually kept his property in line. The guy must be slipping. But work had been slow lately and he was in the mood to travel, and the fee to work for Stevens could afford him that bit of luxury.

  It would be the first time he’d searched for a goddess. He was ready to start. He swung his legs over the side of the bed.

  “You’re leaving now?” the woman lying in the bed beside him asked in a sleepy tone.

  Anika always kept his bed warm between jobs. She was a simple woman and that’s what he needed. “I’ve got work to do.”

  “Another assignment?”

  “Yep.”

  She trailed one long, manicured red nail down his arm. “Baby, they work you too hard.”

  He laughed. She was an expensive hobby—if he didn’t work he wouldn’t be able to keep her. “I like my work.”

  “How long will you be this time?”

  “Depends.”

  “On what?”

  Venus. A woman who’d outsmarted one of the best. “My target.”

  “Except for the scratches he’s in good condition,” Dr. Treena Ikes, the veterinarian, said after a quick assessment of Baxter. She was an attractive woman with cornrows and a fresh face that made one think of mint julep and sunflowers. “He’s a little underweight, but with a few meals that can be remedied. I’m glad you brought him to see me.”

  JD shook his head, amazed. “I can’t believe you’re still here. When they said Dr. Ikes, I was expecting your father.”

  “He retired years ago.”

  “And you decided to take over?”

  “Yes. I was never just a weekender like you. I’ve always lived in this town. It’s home and I have no reason to leave.” She winked. “Unless you plan to give me one.”

  Treena was right. Although his grandparents had
bought the property over fifty years ago, because it hadn’t been their main residence the Rozans were considered weekenders. JD had been mostly a summer boy. He’d spent his time there during those holiday months, but after his father’s death those visits became more infrequent then after high school almost nonexistent. He’d zip in for a quick visit, but he never stayed more than a week. Over the years his grandmother had scolded him and urged him to visit more often and longer, but he’d always come up with a reason not to.

  But not this time. This time her invitation sounded like heaven. JD glanced at the wedding ring on her finger. “I heard you married William. Wouldn’t he mind?”

  Treena laughed. “Pay him enough and he wouldn’t.”

  “You don’t mean that.”

  She sighed and sobered. “No, not really, but things have been tight and that always strains things. It’s his business, you see. He owns the general store next door and it’s starting to lose money.”

  “I could talk to him. I know a little something about business.”

  Treena smiled. “You don’t have to be modest, JD. Everyone knows how good you are at it.”

  “Just give me his card and—”

  Treena hesitated. “He’s a proud man. You’ll have to tread carefully.”

  “I’ll do my best, but if he’s not willing to listen, there’s not much I can do.”

  Treena wrote down her husband’s number then handed it to JD. “Thanks.”

  “Save it. I haven’t done anything yet.” He stood. “So I can just leave Baxter in the shelter then?”

  Treena sighed. “No.”

  “What?”

  “He’s all cleaned up, but that won’t help him.” She looked at the puppy with pity. “Poor thing.”

  “What do you mean? Is something else wrong with him?”

  “The biggest strike against him is that Drent Marks once owned him. Because of that they’ll put him down.”

  “But you just said he was healthy.”

  “Yes, physically, but psychologically…” She released a heavy sigh. “In order to have any chance of being adopted, he’d have to be fostered. We don’t have anyone to foster him right now, and as skittish as he is it will be hard to place him, even if someone is willing to overlook all those vicious cuts and bite marks on his face.” She stared at the dog on the table. “I mean, he’s less than two years old, yet he doesn’t move, he doesn’t sniff the air or move around to explore. He’s terrified and frozen. It will take patience to get him to become a normal dog again.”