2 A Match Made in Mystery

by J. B. Lynn

  “I’d like that.” He didn’t really want a drink; he just didn’t want to have to think about leaving her.

  She switched on a light. “I think I’ve got a bottle of wine around here somewhere.”

  Blinking as his eyes adjusted, Brady looked around. Tension gripped his entire body. “Oh my God.”

  “What’s wrong?” she asked worriedly.

  Brady’s eyes swept over the barren apartment.

  “You’ve been robbed.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Amy laughed. Not a polite chortle but a full-out belly laugh.

  Brady stared at her incredulously. “This isn’t funny. You have to call the police.”

  She shook her head.

  “But you’ve been robbed.”

  She smothered her laughter, but wasn’t able to stifle a smile. “Not recently.”

  “Really?’ Brady spun in a slow circle, taking everything, or the lack of everything, in. “You live like this?” He sounded horrified.

  “I lean toward a minimalist look,” she told him, wondering if her lack of worldly possessions was some sort of deal breaker for him.

  “But…” he protested weakly.

  Not wanting him to think she was a Luddite, she hurried to assure him, “I used to have a computer, but it was stolen a few months ago.”

  “And you didn’t replace it?”

  “Pippin needed surgery,” she explained.

  Brady glanced at the cat, slowly shaking his head from side-to-side. “You never told me you’re a crazy cat lady.”

  She crossed her arms defensively. “I only have one cat.”

  Pippin meowed appreciatively.

  “You can’t stay here,” Brady declared.

  “Excuse me?”

  “It’s too dangerous. You don’t have an alarm system.”

  Amy blinked, unsure of where the conversation was headed. “What do I need an alarm system for?”

  “Protection.”

  “Protection from what?”

  “Twice now you’ve saved Mildred from whoever is after her. How long do you think it will take for whoever it is to come after you?”

  As much as she’d have liked to say that Brady was being unreasonable, she couldn’t argue with his logic. Especially since the cops and Alyssa had each said the same thing in their own ways. Swallowing hard to dispel the doubt niggling at the base of her throat, she said, “I’ll be fine.”

  Brady arched his eyebrows. “Really?”

  “I can protect myself.”

  “With what? Your attack cat?” He frowned as Pippin wove in and out between his legs.

  “I have my bat.” She pointed to the baseball bat leaning against the wall.

  “A cat and a bat against people who use guns and bombs.” He crossed the space separating them, grabbed her shoulders, and gave her a good shake. “Face it, Amy. You’re in danger. It’s not safe for you here.”

  Knocking his hands away, she yelled, “I don’t have anywhere to go.”

  Leaning so close that he warmed the air between them, he whispered, “You can stay with me.”

  “Somehow I don’t think that will be safe either,” she choked out as a tidal wave of heat enveloped her.

  Tilting his head closer, he caught her earlobe between his teeth, nipping gently.

  She leaned against him to keep from falling as her legs buckled beneath her. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her against his solid chest.

  Her mind swirled. Her body wanted to just melt into him, but her brain knew it would be a bad idea. She knew she shouldn’t be making decisions like that considering everything that had happened the last couple of days.

  “I’ll keep you safe,” he pledged, emotion thickening his voice.

  Amy clung to him for a long moment, molding herself to him, silently cursing the clothing that kept them from connecting fully. “I don’t know,” she cried. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t do this with guys I’ve just met.”

  Pulling away, but hanging onto her elbows to hold her upright, Brady stared into her eyes. “What if I give you my word we won’t have sex? Would you let me keep you safe then?”

  Amy considered the offer for a moment. “Yes.”

  Flashing her a heart-stopping smile he told her to pack her overnight bag before letting go of her arms. “I’ll wait in the hall.”

  It took Amy a long moment to regain her equilibrium. By the time she did, Brady, true to his word, was waiting in the hallway. Despite her misgivings that she was making a terrible mistake going to his home, she packed a bag and fed Pippin.

  Pulling the door closed behind her, she locked up before meeting Brady’s eyes.

  While his expression was pleasant, she could still glimpse the heat in his gaze. She wondered if he could see the same in hers.

  It was going to be a long night.

  Brady gripped the steering wheel of his car tightly to prevent himself from reaching out and touching Amy while he drove.

  He could feel the tension emanating from her. The car was polluted with a potent sexual attraction that made it hard to think straight.

  He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his arousal straining against his zipper.

  All he wanted to do was make love to the woman beside him, and he sensed that she wanted the same, but he’d promised her he wouldn’t.

  He would have promised her anything if it meant keeping her safe, but that didn’t mean he didn’t regret the pledge.

  Needing to get his mind off how much he wanted to touch her, he cleared his throat and said, “Tell me about your friend, Diego.”

  He felt her inquiring look, but didn’t dare take his eyes off the road, afraid he’d get lost in her eyes and crash the car.

  “I told you, we’ve known each other since we were kids,” she started slowly.

  “Ever more than friends?”

  “We considered it, but the timing was never right and then we were old enough to figure we shouldn’t go ruining a good thing. Still, sometimes I wonder…”

  A stab of jealousy twisted in Brady’s gut. “You love him?”

  “He’s the only family I’ve got.”

  The wistful note in her tone made Brady glance over at her. She stared out the windshield, the trace of a frown tugging her lips downward.

  “Your mom didn’t have any family?”

  “Died before I was born.”

  “What about your dad’s family?”

  “I told you, she refused to even give me his name.”

  “So they could be out there?”

  “Yeah.” She paused a long moment before admitting shyly, “I’m hoping that whatever this inheritance is, it leads me to them. That probably sounds stupid.”

  “Not at all,” he assured her. “It’s human nature to want to connect.”

  She thought about that a moment before she spoke again. “Is that why you went to a matchmaker?”

  “I didn’t go to her. She came to me.” Realizing he sounded defensive, he took a breath and added calmly, “She fixed up friends of mine and approached me at their wedding. I thought she was a nut at the time, but now I’m kind of glad she did.”

  Stopping for a red light, he turned and flashed a quick smile at her and got a shy one back.

  He returned his attention to the traffic signal. “If she hadn’t told me to ask about the purple people eater, we wouldn’t have met.”

  “But that’s not what brought us together,” Amy argued. “You ordered your drink and I made it, but we would have never met again if it wasn’t for the letter.”

  He froze, realizing she was right. He hadn’t connected with her because of the drink. The only person ordering it had mattered to was Keith Hasburgh. What if Armani hadn’t given him the message so that he could meet Amy? What if it was meant as some kind of connection with Keith Hasburgh that was important?

  “Brady?” Amy covered his right hand where it was wrapped around the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip. “Are you okay?”
/>
  A car horn beeped behind them. Realizing the light had turned green, he yanked his foot off the brake and slammed on the gas, causing the car to lurch forward.

  “Did I say something wrong?” Amy asked worriedly.

  “No.” He gained control over the car, but couldn’t get contain the thoughts ricocheting around in his brain. “Maybe I wasn’t supposed to help you.”

  “Okay,” she said slowly, making it clear she was unsure of where this train of thought was heading. “Are you saying that your mother is right? That I should be working with Eric?”

  “What? No!”

  “Then what are you saying?” she huffed exasperatedly.

  “I need to stop at the office. Do you mind?”

  “Of course not.”

  The tires squealed as he made an abrupt turn.

  “It’s just that I really need to deal with that thing Gerald was showing me earlier.”

  “On a Saturday night?”

  “I should have done it the night we first met. That’s what the drink was about. It had nothing to do with you.”

  “Way to make a girl feel special.” She braced herself against her seat as he took another turn too quickly.

  “I was so distracted that I’ve almost let Eric get away with it.”

  “Away with what?’

  “Gutting Hasburgh Industries.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Sunlight streamed in the window, causing Amy to blink as she awoke. She covered her eyes with the back of her arm, unaccustomed to the glare. The windows in her apartment faced west, which meant she wasn’t home.

  It took a minute for the memory of the night before to crystallize, but as it did, she sat straight up, heart pounding.

  As she’d remembered she was in Brady Stewart’s spare bedroom. After stopping to pick up files from his office, he’d brought her to his home. Making good on his promise to not have sex with her, he’d muttered insistently about needing to work and quickly stowed her in this room, like she was a virginal maiden being imprisoned in a turret to protect her purity.

  Now it was morning and she was still alone. She got out of bed, changed out of the T-shirt he’d loaned her to sleep in, and grabbed her purse. Checking her phone, she saw that Diego had called her twice overnight. Guilt sliced through her as she realized he must be worried about her.

  Letting herself out of the room, she padded quietly down the hallway, not wanting to wake Brady up if he was still asleep. She followed the sound of light snoring and found herself standing before a door that was slightly ajar. Pushing the door open a bit more, she peered inside and saw Brady, sprawled across the bed. She watched as his shirtless chest rose and fell.

  Feeling like she was intruding on his privacy, she backed away. She let herself out onto the front porch and settled into a rustic swing to return Diego’s call. She hadn’t dialed his number yet, when the sound of a throat being cleared startled her.

  Whirling toward the sound, she found Brady’s mother watching her.

  “You scared me,” Amy said, covering her galloping heart with her hand.

  The other woman stared at her silently.

  Forcing herself to smile, Amy said, “Good morning, Mrs. Stewart. “

  “Morning.”

  “I’m afraid Brady’s still asleep.”

  His mother cocked an eyebrow.

  Heat flooded Amy’s face when she realized the other woman no doubt assumed that she and Brady had been intimate. “He was kind enough to let me use his guestroom,” Amy hurriedly explained.

  “He can be too kind for his own good.”

  Amy wasn’t sure how to respond to that cryptic comment. “I apologize if I somehow offended you, ma’am.”

  “I want you to leave my son alone.”

  Amy blinked, stunned. “Have I done something to offend you?”

  “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll give you the key if you’ll promise to never see him again.”

  Amy stared at Brady’s mother, speechless.

  “You must see that you’re not right for each other,” Mrs. Stewart insisted. “You don’t really think whatever this is,” she waved her hand dismissively, “will last. Do you?”

  Forcing herself to keep her voice even, Amy said through clenched teeth. “With all due respect, I don’t think that’s for you to decide.”

  “No,” his mother agreed. “It’s yours. Either you agree and you get the key, or you’ll never get your inheritance.” She held out her hand, a safety deposit box key balanced in her palm. “Which will it be, Ms. Winn?”

  The decision was an easy one for Amy to make, so she blurted out her response without hesitation. “I choose Brady.”

  She’d lived her whole life without knowing about the mysterious inheritance; she could live the rest of life without knowing what it was. What she couldn’t live with was not knowing what could have been with Brady.

  Frowning, Mrs. Stewart closed her fingers over the key, hiding it from view. “Not the response I expected. I thought you’d have more sense.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you,” Amy said drily, fixing the other woman with a cool stare.

  “Surely you must see that the two of you have very different backgrounds, interests, social standing, career paths.”

  Amy nodded slowly. The woman wasn’t saying anything that she hadn’t already worried about herself. Brady had made her believe that none of those were important.

  “Plus, I’d have thought you’d have been dying to know.”

  “Know what?” Amy couldn’t help but ask.

  “What your father left for you in that box.”

  A rush of excitement left Amy feeling lightheaded. “You know who my father was?”

  “I know who your father is.” Brady’s mother stressed the last word.

  “My father is dead,” Amy countered.

  Mrs. Stewart shook her head, a sad smile stretching her lips. “If that was true, you’d know who he was.” She opened her hand again, holding out the key. “If you take this, you’ll know,” she promised.

  Hope and dread pooled and squeezed Amy’s chest, making it difficult to breathe. “Are you telling me my father is alive?”

  “He was twenty years ago.”

  Amy shook her head. It couldn’t be… and yet…

  “My son will tire of you quickly,” Mrs. Stewart proclaimed.

  Despite knowing she was wrong, Amy allowed the idea to take root in her head.

  “You can find out where you came from, who you are, with this.” She dangled the key in front of Amy, the morning sunlight glinting off the metal. “The choice is yours.”

  Amy considered her options.

  “Who is it going to be, Amy? My son or your father and the rest of his family? Your family.”

  It was the offer of family that made the decision for Amy. “Fine.” She held her hand out, palm upward to receive the key. “I’ll stay away from Brady.”

  What she didn’t say was that she hoped Brady wouldn’t stay away from her.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Brady followed the scent of brewing coffee to his kitchen, thinking how nice it was to be able to start the day with Amy.

  His mother was not the woman he’d expected to find in his home when Brady woke up.

  “Where’s Amy?” he asked immediately.

  She poured two cups of coffee while she spoke. “Gone. She got what she wanted and left. Said to say thanks for your help, but she doesn’t need it anymore.”

  Brady took a step back, his mother’s words socking him in the gut. He dipped his head to recover from the pain.

  Almost immediately he realized that Amy would never say or do such a thing.

  Raising his chin, he glared at the woman who’d given birth to him. “What did you do?”

  “Do?” His mother’s matter-of-fact veneer cracked a bit under the intensity of his anger.

  “What did you say to chase her away?”

  Holding out a cup to him she explained, “I didn’t
chase her away. She made a choice. She decided that key was more important than you.”

  He refused to take the cup.

  “I know you won’t believe me, but I’m looking out for you, Baby.”

  Remembering Mildred’s words from the night before he goaded, “Preventing me from being corrupted?’

  His mother put the cup down on the kitchen counter. “Something like that.”

  “How could a woman who works two jobs and stops to help out an old lady who’s being mugged corrupt me, Ma?”

  His mother closed her eyes. Her lips moved, but no sound came out.

  “Ma?”

  “Her father.”

  “She never even knew her father,” Brady shouted, pounding his fist on the counter, making the coffee splash out. “He died before she was born.”

  Suddenly looking much older, his mother collapsed into the nearest chair. “No. He didn’t.”

  “How do you know that?” Brady asked suspiciously, a nervous feeling making his gut flip.

  “Because,” she admitted tiredly, “he’s the one Willen was working for. He left that key and whatever the content of that box is for his daughter.”

  “He’s alive?”

  She shrugged. “Who knows. He’s a criminal. Maybe his thieving ways have caught up with him.”

  “Or maybe she can find him.” Knowing how lonely she’d been, the thought flooded Brady with a sense of hope.

  “He’s a criminal,” his mother lectured. “No good can come of anyone finding him. Do you understand now? Do you get that I was protecting you?”

  Brady shook his head. “That wasn’t your decision to make, Mom. Neither was threatening to fail to hand over the key.”

  “I understand that you’re upset with me, but don’t forget she made the choice and she didn’t choose you.”

  Hours later, his mother’s words still echoing in his head, Brady slammed a basketball against the backboard while waiting for the pick-up game he was playing in to start.

  “What did the ball do to piss you off?” Tom asked as he strolled onto the court.

  Brady shrugged, noting that his friend looked happy, tan and rested after his honeymoon.

  Tom narrowed his gaze. “Alyssa told Jane that the job you roped her into is more challenging than she expected.”