“Miss Thompson?”
Hard muscles tightened beneath her light touch. Ally turned and smiled at Captain Morgan.
“Miss Thompson, I am so sorry about all of this. On top of everything else you’ve been through.” He shook his head. “If there’s anything I or my department can do for you, just say the word.”
“Did you catch the guy who helped Victor escape?”
The captain’s expression turned grim as he nodded. “A man with fifteen years on the force. I can only hope that’s the last of it, but I intend to make certain.” Captain Morgan’s gaze shifted to St. James and her hand tucked securely in the crook of his arm.
“Captain Morgan, I’d like to introduce you to A…” St. James’ arm turned to granite. With barely a pause, she continued. “…Mr. St. James. He came to my aid before the police arrived. I don’t know what would have happened without him. Mr. St. James, Captain Morgan.”
Polite greetings were exchanged. Captain Morgan turned to her.
“We’ll need you to stop by the station as soon as possible and give a statement.” He glanced at St. James. “You too, Mr. St. James.”
St. James inclined his head.
Ally doubted Captain Morgan would lay eyes on Agent Daniel St. James again.
Captain Morgan walked away, a tall, white-haired figure amongst the sea of navy-blue uniforms. Greg leaned against a nearby squad car, arms crossed, watching them. Her heart hoped for a sign, a gesture, anything to indicate his interest. Her mind wanted to slap some sense into her heart.
St. James pulled her around. Burning awareness of Greg’s gaze stayed with Ally until she and St. James turned a corner. Willingness to suffer for love and a longing to tell Greg to stuff it where the sun didn’t shine twisted her into knots. She kept her back straight and shoulders back. Some degree of dignity had to be maintained.
“Thinking of Detective Marsing?”
She glanced at St. James. “For a man who reveals so little, you have an uncanny ability to read other people. Not that you’re right.”
“Of course not. And reading people comes in handy. It’s kept me alive a time or two.”
The slight inflection in his voice revealed a lot more than his words. His could not be a pleasant job. He must really believe in what he was doing to be willing to deal with such perversion of human nature on a regular basis.
“Where can I drop you?” He opened the passenger door of a black sports coupe parked at the curb.
Ally eyed the dark interior of the car. Sticking her hands in the front pockets of her jeans, she rocked back on her heels. “Uhm, ya know, I’ll just call a cab.”
He crossed his arms. “Don’t trust me?”
She shrugged.
“You’re welcome to call a cab. Though I know for a fact…” St. James paused and his gray eyes darkened a shade, just enough to make her feel itchy. “…You’re not carrying a cell phone. Nor do you have any money to pay a cab driver.”
Her cheeks warmed. Again. There should be a law on how many times a woman blushed in one day. Like she needed to be reminded that a really, really attractive man had searched her? Thoroughly?
She glared at him and lied through her pearly white teeth. “There’s always a pay phone tucked away every few blocks, somewhere. And how can you be so sure I don’t have any money? I always carry a bill discreetly tucked away. So unless you strip-searched me…”
His brow went up and the bottom fell out of her stomach. Bad enough knowing he’d seen her naked, but if he’d really had his hands all over her, intimately…holy cow.
“You don’t have any money and there aren’t any pay phones. You know my name; you even know what I do for a living and for whom I work. You’re as safe as a newborn baby with me.”
“I don’t expect I’ll need to have my nappy changed any time soon.” His attitude grated. “Besides, how do I know all that stuff isn’t dangerous? In an ‘I can tell you, but I’d have to kill you’ sort of way. Then there are the numerous so-called,” she made air quotes with her fingers, “respectable police officers who’ve tried to kill me.”
Gray eyes sparkling with amusement, he grinned and placed his hand over his heart. Wow, when the guy let his mask drop, he let it drop. “Allessandra Thompson, I promise, I have no intention of killing you. Now or ever. Well, if you start dealing drugs I may have to rescind the last part.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Now, would you get in the damn car?”
Captain Morgan and Greg knew his name and that she was with him. Besides, if he wanted to kill her, he could have done so earlier and blamed her death on Victor.
So she climbed into his car. And suffered a flash of panic when he drove away from the curb.
“Home?”
Ally swallowed. “Yes. Do I need to even bother to give you the address? You must have a mile-thick file, since you know everything there is to know about me.”
“Not quite. For example, I don’t know the name of the first boy you ever had a crush on, although I do know the name of the first one you ever slept with.”
She stared. “Are you serious?”
“No.” He chuckled. “I only know a few facts of your life. Victor’s arrest is the only reason I even know that much. We assumed he was safely out of circulation, so I did a little research during my few days off. And,” he flashed a Cheshire-cat grin, “the file isn’t a mile thick.
“I can’t believe I even have a file.” Ally cleared her throat. “So I’ll take that as a ‘no, I don’t need to give you my address’.”
“No, you don’t.”
“What should I call you? Agent St. James? Mr. St. James? Daniel? Danny-boy? Moe?”
“Moe?”
“Long story.”
“I can’t wait.”
“Well, it’s not a long story.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and smoothed her shirt. “See, I have a habit of, ya know, naming people when I’m in a stressful situation. So you became Moe and the other guy Curly.”
“Ah.”
Thirty seconds passed while she gnawed on her lip and counted her heartbeats thudding beneath her jaw.
“You can call me Daniel. Or Moe, if you prefer.” He grinned.
Ally couldn’t deny a little niggle of relief. Some people found her habit annoying. Daniel pulled into her drive and she climbed out, heading for the remote pad beside the garage door. Greg’s muscular frame unfolded from a petite wicker chair on her porch and she nearly tripped over an invisible crack in the concrete driveway.
“Greg?” She detoured down her walk. “What are you doing here?”
His gaze went past her. “Look what followed you home.”
She glanced back. Daniel hovered behind her, expressionless mask in place, less than a foot between them. “He gave me a ride.”
Greg’s eyebrows rose. “Not a wise choice, Ally.”
Wow. She folded her arms across her chest. “I don’t recall asking your opinion. How did you get here before us?”
“I didn’t have a headstrong female to convince into my car.” He glanced behind her again. “Nice ride, St. James.”
“It’s a rental, Marsing. Don’t get your panties in a knot.”
Animosity and testosterone practically vibrated in the air. She sighed. Men. “Feel free to tear each other apart in my absence. I’m going inside, where I plan on sitting down with a very large glass of wine and possibly not getting up again until sometime tomorrow. Try not to make too much noise and don’t break anything.”
She left them staring after her and let herself into her condo. Cool air wafted over her, the scent of cinnamon and apple from the plug-in air freshener welcoming her home. It would have to be enough. Weary beyond description, she kicked her shoes off in the hall closet. Who knew if Greg would ever pull his head out of his butt.
The front door opened and closed. Her entry promptly shrank, but she didn’t bother to turn around.
“Would either of you like a glass of wine?” She walked
into the kitchen without waiting for a response, selected a bottle and rummaged through a drawer for the opener.
“Here, let me do that.” Greg pulled the bottle from her hands and took the opener she’d unearthed.
“I’ll get the glasses.” Daniel opened and closed cupboards in search of them.
Huh. Well, if two handsome, strapping men wanted to wait on her, who was she to object?
“Cupboard to the right of the sink.” She indicated the appropriate one and collapsed onto her couch. A thump and grunt came from the kitchen, then silence. She sat up. “Everything okay?”
Another thump, a deeper grunt, and a tinkling crash. Ally jumped to her feet and screeched to a halt in the kitchen, eyes wide. Chests rising and falling rapidly, shards of crystal glasses at their feet, St. James and Greg squared off between her crystal and fine china. She crossed her arms and noisily cleared her throat. They spun to face her, quickly straightening their shirts and smoothing their hair. Ally didn’t know whether to be amused or annoyed. She glanced at the glass shards and pursed her lips to hide a smile.
“Oh, sorry,” they said simultaneously, elbowing one another and jostling to get to the broom closet. Daniel reached the handle first and shoved a strategic elbow into Greg’s ribcage. Greg “ooomphed” and slammed into the wall. A large framed poster of Paris shimmied, then crashed to the floor.
Ally sighed and crossed her arms, casting her gaze heavenward. “Seriously?”
“Sorry.” Greg grabbed the picture and rehung it.
Daniel snorted on his way into the kitchen with the broom and dustpan. Exasperated with them both, she lay down on the couch and crossed her ankles on top of the armrest. She didn’t even care about the dented corner of the picture frame. After all that had happened, she could barely tolerate her home. She sat up straight with a start.
Joel had called earlier with an offer.
While the two men puttered in her kitchen, peacefully this time, she picked up the cordless and had a quick conversation with her cousin. By the end of which she’d sold her condo and made an appointment to start searching for a new…something. Apartment, house, another condo, she didn’t know at this point.
She didn’t especially care, as long as it wasn’t this place.
Greg and Daniel walked in. She eyed the two of them. Something about the way they moved linked them in a way nothing else could. They shared the instincts of a predator. And they were in her home, serving her wine. Freaky.
She took a sip. The sweet red wine went down with a polite bite. Greg sat in an overstuffed chair beside the couch she was hogging. Daniel chose a chair by the front windows.
They both stared at her.
“What?”
The men exchanged a glance and her back stiffened.
Greg leaned forward. “I’m worried about you, Ally.”
“Why?”
“For starters, your life has been threatened repeatedly over the last few weeks.”
“C’est la vie.” Not very nice of him to rub salt in her wounds. Settling deeper into the couch, Ally glanced at Daniel. “Did you have something to contribute?”
He grinned. “I think I’ll just seduce you. Nothing like great sex to relax a person.”
“Funny.”
“Who was being funny?”
“I almost liked you for a few minutes,” Greg growled.
Ally took another sip of wine, watching them.
“If she were under you,” Daniel said, “I wouldn’t be here.”
“If you think I’m just going to sit here while you sweep her off her feet—”
“Greg,” Ally interrupted, “Daniel is talking about sex, not marriage.”
Daniel laughed. “I like a girl who isn’t afraid to call it like it is.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I’m not interested. Kinda like someone else I know.” She slanted a narrow look at Greg.
“She’s got you there, mate.” Daniel leaned back and took a drink of his wine.
Greg grinned tightly. “Now, sweetheart, you know that’s not true. I’m more than happy to take you to bed.”
Ally snorted. “Yeah, like that’s gonna happen.”
“Please.” Daniel raised a hand in the air. “You’ll traumatize my young ears.”
She laughed, relaxing into the cushions, a pleasant buzz dulling less-agreeable emotions. Like a fractured heart and irritation over Greg’s attitude.
“So, what are your plans now, Ally?” Daniel asked.
“For what?”
His eyebrows went up. “Oh, come on. You aren’t just going back to your boring life, are you?”
“Boring?” She bolted upright, indignant. “What do you know about my life, anyway?”
“I read your file, remember? Twenty-nine-year-old insurance claims processor, owns a modest condo in the suburbs, never travels, stays home a lot. Alone. No boyfriend, no mysterious lover, no significant other.”
“Well, when you put it like that.” Ally slid down in her seat. “You said the file was thin.”
“You shouldn’t believe everything you’re told.” Greg glared at Daniel.
A speculative look lit Daniel’s eyes. “Have you ever considered working for—”
Greg snorted. “Don’t bother.”
Daniel shrugged and went back to sipping his wine. He’d swirled the wine, stuck his nose in the glass and inhaled deeply, then sipped. A real connoisseur. Daniel St. James had unplumbed depths, but she’d leave the plumbing to another woman.
She yawned. The sun had set and she was crashing fast.
Daniel rose and scooped the empty glass from her limp fingers on his way out of the room. A few seconds later the water in the kitchen came on. A man who did dishes. Didn’t know they made those anymore.
Ally yawned again, curling up on the couch as her eyes drifted closed.
“Oh no, you don’t.” Greg scooped her up into his arms.
Wrapped in his strong arms, the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear, hand fisted in his shirt, her heart cracked a little more.
“About what I said earlier,” he murmured against her hair. “I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”
“I am your girlfriend?” Hope stirred, but the silence stretched a little too long.
“I’m not…” He sighed. “It’s not that easy, sweetheart.”
She released his shirt and settled her hand limply in her lap. “Okay. Well, I appreciate all of your help over the last few weeks.” A huge yawn escaped, slurring the last part. “You’ve been great.”
Greg sighed and headed for the stairs. “Up to bed.”
Daniel snorted. He stood in the archway to the kitchen, a broad shoulder against the wall and his arms crossed. “At least I was upfront about seducing her.”
“I’m not seducing her. I’m putting her to bed.”
“Poor Ally,” Daniel murmured, a wicked gleam in his eye. “Are you sure you don’t want any company, darlin’? Someone to help warm your bed?”
Relaxed against Greg’s familiar warmth, Ally belatedly remembered the pain pills the EMT had forced down her. No wonder a single glass of wine had hit her so hard. She’d be down for the count soon.
Her sluggish brain caught up with the conversation and she frowned. “Not unless it’s Greg. And he won’t, ’cause he doesn’t like me anymore.”
Greg’s arms tightened before he gently sat her on her bed.
She fell back against the soft mattress with a sigh.
“Are you going to let her sleep in her clothes?” Daniel asked.
“Go ’way,” Ally mumbled.
“You heard her.” Smugness lightened Greg’s voice. “Go away before I throw you out.”
“Don’t worry about me.” Daniel sounded closer. “I’ve seen her naked before.”
“What?” The anger in Greg’s voice roused her from her stupor. Sort of.
“Victor,” she mumbled, rolling over and snuggling deeper into her bed. “Whore-house.”
“You were there?
You did nothing to help her?” Disgust lined Greg’s words. “And people wonder why I refuse to work for the government.”
Her shoes were pulled off and landed on the floor with a thud. A masculine hand settled on her hip. Greg was undressing her? Her body tingled and warmed. Trapped between sleep and wakefulness, Ally wasn’t terribly motivated to stop him. She did have one worry niggling at her conscience.
“Daniel?”
The wonderful hands paused in their work for a few beats.
“He left. Went downstairs, left for good, I don’t know or care. You’ll be more comfortable without these.”
He tugged her jeans off. Just her luck, to develop a fondness for thong panties at this point in her life, about the same time a handsome police detective decided to make her comfort a priority. Cool air washed over her bare butt, Greg lifted her the rest of the way onto the bed and the soft weight of a blanket settled over her.
“Sleep, sweetheart. Things will seem better in the morning.”
His voice sounded deeper, huskier.
“Stay,” she whispered, drifting. “Please.”
Weighted silence followed her request. The sweet darkness of sleep beckoned, but she held off—just a few more seconds.
The rough pad of his finger traced her jawline and his sigh ruffled her hair. “Good night, Sugar Lips.”
A dart of pain hit home. Her door clicked closed behind Greg and quiet solitude descended. She pictured him sitting beside her, back before life had gotten so complicated, lazy amusement sparkling in his green eyes. It really was time to move on. A tear slipped free.
Chapter Twenty
Three weeks later….
“I don’t know about this one, Joel. It’s a bit…industrial.” Ally turned, surveying the open configuration of the space. “Although, I do like the exposed brick and the character. What do you think, Celia?”
“I love the brick.” Celia spun slowly on her crocodile stilettos. “I don’t mind the exposed duct work. Once it’s furnished and decorated, I don’t think you’d notice it. And the kitchen… Ally, it’s gorgeous. How many places have we looked at with a gourmet kitchen?”
“None. You’re right. What about the empty space below? I know you said there are a few more condos on this floor, but they aren’t sold yet. I’d be living here alone.”
Sweet Deception Page 22