RENEGADE'S REDEMPTION

by Lindsey Longford

  “I’m used to them.”

  “Oh? You’re a native, then, or a longtime resident?” Again he moved the air against her, the stiff straw of the brim grazing her neck.

  “No.” She snatched her hat from his grasp and slapped it on her head irritably, not allowing her gaze to shift from his, even when he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his slacks and the soft fabric tightened across his flat stomach.

  “Friends in the area? That why you moved to beautiful Palmaflora, Ms. Malloy?” The intensity in his eyes belied his casual stance, the yawn he barely suppressed.

  “No.” Elly maintained her steady gaze and didn’t elaborate. Friends were a luxury she couldn’t afford. Tommy’s safety and hers depended on keeping people at a distance. Less chance of a slip. Less possibility of mixing up the lies and half-truths. They’d be safer if she didn’t make friends. Going on the attack, she returned a question of her own. “You’re very inquisitive, Mr. Gaines, aren’t you?”

  “I like puzzles.” He smiled, a swift, predatory gleam, and she knew she’d made a mistake when he slid in, swift as a fencing thrust. “You interest me, Ms. Malloy. Not easy to do these days, so, yes, I reckon I’m—inquisitive about you. Like Tommy, I’m a curious man.”

  Alicia stuck her head around the door and suddenly added, “Nosy’s what Royal is, Ms. Malloy. He can’t help it. Comes with the territory.”

  “Oh?”

  Royal’s hand lifted abruptly, the quick gesture saying Stop as clearly as if he’d spoken, but Alicia paid him no attention. “Royal’s a detective.”

  “What?” Blood drained in a rush from Elly’s brain. Shivers iced the heat flushing over her skin as she managed to whisper, “A policeman?” She felt as if she’d stepped off an out-of-control carousel and everything was whirling under her feet. She gripped the porch railing with all her strength.

  “Was.” The quiet, one-word hiss raised the hairs along Elly’s arms.

  “Yes. Was.” Alicia whacked her hand against the screen door. “And it doesn’t have to be this way. I’m so angry with you, I could spit nails, you know.”

  For a second or two, Alicia’s comment made no sense to Elly, but then, taking a dizzyingly deep breath, Elly understood that she was safe. Whoever he was, whatever he was, Royal Gaines was no longer a policeman.

  Alicia’s fingers clenched into the mesh of the screen door as she glowered at Royal. “I mean it. I’m furious with you. Beau, though, he’s merely confused. And disillusioned because he believed the sun rose and set in your footprints. And he’s hurt. A lot of that going around, Royal. You have to understand that I hold you responsible. Every day, I wake up mad all over again, and I don’t like it.”

  “You’ll survive, Leesha. And I will, too. One way or another.”

  “Will you, Royal? That seems to be the question these days. You’re paving the road to hell at a mighty fast pace, my friend. And all your intentions are bad.”

  Royal cleared his throat. “Are we friends, Leesha? Still?”

  Elly started, caught by the sound of buried pain in his voice.

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Well, I asked, didn’t I?”

  Her face grave, Alicia nodded. “You did. And I answered you honestly. I’m sorry, Royal, but that’s how I feel right now. I can’t help it.”

  “I can’t blame you. I don’t.” He paused, hesitated, and Elly wondered if he were through, but then he tacked on in a tone so low she almost missed it, “If you don’t want me to come around here anymore, I won’t. It’s your decision. Your call.”

  Watching the creases deepen in Royal’s lean cheeks as he waited for Alicia’s answer, Elly wondered what that comment had cost him. She didn’t know him, didn’t trust him, didn’t want to feel anything about him, but the glimpse of some hidden pain tugged at her.

  Shutting the screen door slowly, Alicia nodded once, brusquely. “Let’s talk about this another time, Royal. I have to think.”

  “Up to you, Leesha.” His face was blank.

  With a quick change of mood, Alicia turned to Elly. “Little rehashing of old history, Ms. Malloy. You’re probably familiar with the situation.”

  Elly wasn’t, but she couldn’t speak as she saw Royal’s quick flinch. “No, but that’s all right,” she finally said, turning her wrist so that she could see the face of her watch.

  Alicia twisted the handle of the screen door. “Tommy’ll be right out. Sullivan’s finishing up the story, and then they’ll collect their drawings and notes to take home.” The turquoise of her skirt blended into the dim interior as she left.

  “So.” Royal crossed his arms and surveyed Elly’s bare legs, the button missing at the top of her shirt. “Interesting uniform.”

  “Serviceable.” Elly took another long drink of the tepid lemonade and rolled the plastic against the side of her neck. With his leisurely survey, Royal had sent a dry heat leaping under her skin. Before he could ask another question, she did. “Police department? You were a policeman?” It took all the strength she had to keep her tone nonchalant. She took another sip of lemonade, tipping her head back and holding on to her hat as she did.

  “Detective.” Deep grooves appeared along the side of his mouth. “But not anymore.” His reckless, brilliant smile stopped short of his eyes. “Now, I’m an overpaid beach bum.”

  “You get paid?”

  “Nope.” He plucked a tissue from a stand near the boxes of equipment. “Here. You’re dripping.”

  “Oh.” Elly would have slapped his hand away if he’d touched her. He didn’t. Clearly, he was a smart man.

  Taking the tissue, she dabbed at the darker streaks of pink on her blouse.

  “Sure you don’t want a helping hard?”

  He was teasing, flirting, but he was too self-possessed, too focused, and she recognized that flare of male interest that deepened the green of his eyes.

  She couldn’t think of what to say to him. There were so many layers of meaning in his comments that he left her off balance, unsure of the rules of whatever game he was playing, and now this current running hot and stinging between them confused her even more. She took a sideways step to the left, another to the right, buying time. “Do you have children here?”

  Bare, tanned fingers slipped under the brim of her hat, waggled in front of her startled eyes, skimmed past her nose. “Nope. Never been married, either, if that was your next question.” He reached out and snagged her left hand, turning it over, palm up, in his.

  “It wasn’t.” She wanted to hide the calluses and rough skin, but he kept her hand loosely in his even as she tugged against his hold. He was deliberately making her aware of him as a man, and she didn’t like it, not at all, because she sensed the purpose and calculation behind his every touch, every comment.

  “How about you? Married? Divorced?” His thumb grazed her ring finger, lingered, his touch light, light, but her toes curled with each careless brush of his thumb.

  “No.” She jerked her hand back, wrapping her fingers in the strap of her purse for safekeeping. His touch disturbed her, distracted her, made her want too much.

  “All of the above? None of the above?” He was laughing at her. Not a muscle twitched in his face, but amusement radiated from every line of his body.

  “Divorced. A long time ago. Not that it’s any of your business.” Lifting her chin, she threw his words back at him.

  He stepped back, giving her room where there’d been room before. His leisurely perusal of her face was enigmatic. “Might be. You never know.”

  In another man, the comment would have been flirtatious, the first step in that complicated dance of man and woman, of sex, a dance that had always left her moving to the wrong beat. “I don’t think we’ll be running into each other very much, Mr. Gaines. My marital status isn’t significant. You rescued Tommy, and I can’t possibly repay you for that. But—” she paused, watching him steadily, seeing the tightening of the lines around his green eyes as she finished, “—that do
esn’t give you entry into my life. Or into Tommy’s.”

  “Clear enough, Elly Malloy.” His gaze was as steady as hers. “But I’m already in your life. Whether you like it or not, I’m here.”

  The frown that drew her feathery brows together told Royal she didn’t like it one damned bit, but he’d been truthful with her. Whether through his actions, her own or Scanlon’s, Royal didn’t know, but all the threads had drawn together and knotted in the slight figure of Elly Malloy, who made him more curious than he’d been in a very long time, the curiosity swirling slowly, treacherously, through the emptiness.

  *

  Chapter 3

  « ^ »

  Waiting placidly on the old porch in the intimate heat of the summer afternoon, Royal studied Elly Malloy as she considered what he’d said. She didn’t frown, pout or grimace as she stared at him, but a subtle shift of muscles pulled the corners of her narrow upper lip. Her sun hat vibrated, a fine, barely perceptible motion.

  And the long muscle of her thigh trembled.

  She might think she had a poker face, but her emotions moved across the triangle of her face like clouds drifting across a pale sky. Her posture betrayed her.

  Ms. Malloy didn’t like being pushed. She wanted him as far away from her as she could shove him.

  The not-so-fragile blossom was expending a lot of energy trying to hide her feelings.

  And yet there was the slight dilation of her pupils when he stepped close, the shallow breaths. She was aware of him.

  Whether she liked it or wanted it, her femininity responded to him.

  Royal found that the most intriguing fact of all.

  “So, Elly Malloy, do you believe fate brought us together then?”

  “I doubt fate was responsible.” The swoop of her upper lip thinned even more with cynicism and with what Royal recognized as strain.

  “Really?” Idly, he let his gaze follow the shine of perspiration down her neck, down the gleam of soft skin that disappeared into the scoop of her neckline.

  “Oh, yes. Really,” she said mockingly, smiling all the time. “You’re far too—purposeful a man, I think, to be at the whim of fate.”

  “Maybe you’re right.” Dewy with heat, her skin had the luster of creamy satin, a glow that captured his attention even when he willed it in another direction. “Maybe I planned to meet you here.”

  “It’s possible.” She stared steadily at him, not giving an inch. “I wouldn’t be surprised to learn you’d planned this meeting.”

  “Suspicious lady.”

  “It’s the nineties, Mr. Gaines. The decade doesn’t promote easy trust. You’re curious. I’m suspicious.”

  “That’s a shame. Seems kind of—unfriendly.”

  “Does it?” Her breasts lifted the soft fabric of her blouse as she took a deep breath, exhaled slowly. “If so, that’s not my problem, is it?”

  “Maybe not.” Mesmerized by the subtle shift of pink and softness, Royal found his breathing synchronizing itself to hers. Deliberately, he altered his own rhythm, breaking the spell. Heat coiled in his groin as her breathing hitched, followed his.

  Powerful, that spiraling heat. Powerful enough to make a man wish he’d done a lot of things differently.

  He shook his head, clearing it of that tantalizing hunger, and intensified his effort to find answers to the puzzle of Elly Malloy and her free-with-the-bucks husband. A husband who seemed mighty eager to find her. Excessively so, Royal thought, studying Scanlon’s wife. Not that Elly Malloy wasn’t worth every nickel Scanlon was offering—

  Ruthlessly, Royal ignored the sly nudgings of his subconscious.

  He wondered when she’d snap. No matter how hard he worked to provoke an unwary response from her, she managed to control her reactions. Most people, even when they had something to hide, weren’t that careful. In spite of the tension vibrating from her, Elly Malloy was very, very careful. “Still, I can’t help wondering why you’re so suspicious, Ms. Malloy.” Angling his shoulder toward her, he blocked her view of the interior of the center.

  “I don’t like surprises,” she said after a long pause.

  “I see.” He laid his hand against the rough texture of the wall. A splinter gouged his open palm, and he tweezed it out with his thumb and index finger, never letting his gaze move from her. He slipped the splinter into his shirt pocket, adding pensively, “Life’s an interesting gamble. If you’re open to possibilities. And not too suspicious.”

  Restlessly, she turned toward the door, peered in past him. “I have responsibilities and no time for possibilities. And very little time for word games. Being suspicious suits me.” Her smile was bitter. “If I come across as unfriendly, I can live with that.”

  “Can you?” He wanted to fold back the brim of her hat and see her face clearly, but he kept his hands safely in the pockets of his slacks. “Everybody needs a friend.” The words struck him bleakly. He’d managed to frighten away most of his.

  Smoothing her face free of expression, she leaned against the wall, sighing from under the safety of that damned hat brim. “Bluntly, Mr. Gaines, I have a difficult time believing you do much of anything without a purpose. I suspect that you’re not here by chance. If you are, fine. If not, that’s okay, too, because although I don’t have a clue how I fit into your agenda, I have an agenda of my own.” Straightening, she plunked her hands on the slight flare of her hips. “You’re not on it. And I never gamble.”

  “No?” He liked Elly Malloy in her aggressive mode. It gave him a glimpse of what she might be with all the walls down, with all the questions answered. “That’s pretty direct. Can’t misinterpret that message.”

  She nodded, her hat brim flipping emphatically. “Good.”

  She walked quickly to the far end of the porch, stooping slightly to peer into the floor-length windows lining the main room of the center. As she bent, twisted, the back of her shorts rode up. Tender, vulnerable, that pale sliver of skin made his breath hitch in his chest.

  “We understand each other, then. We’ll just pretend that your appearance here was accidental.”

  “If you say so.” He’d known exactly when Elly Malloy was expected.

  “Okay. Good. Okay. That’s settled.” She stood up and, catching his gaze, yanked at her shorts, her gestures uncoordinated and flustered. “Your being here was only coincidence.”

  “Works for me.” Not even hesitating, he’d used his friendship with Alicia. She’d told him about Tommy Lee and his mother. Because of friendship.

  Because of old ties.

  And so Royal had made sure he would be waiting on the porch when Elly Malloy arrived.

  Royal wondered if Alicia would forgive him. Not so long ago, he wouldn’t have abused their friendship. Regret knotted his stomach. Her disapproval hurt him more than he could have imagined. And he’d caught the flash of pity on the blossom’s face as she listened to Alicia scold him. Pity. Skepticism, distrust.

  Well, hell, he couldn’t expect anything else. He thought he’d moved beyond caring, but he cared what Alicia thought of him, and, amazingly, he found himself disturbed by Elly Malloy’s pity.

  “Mr. Gaines—” Regarding him from a distance, the blossom tilted her head. She’d apparently been thinking while she watched the children inside.

  “Royal.”

  “Mr. Gaines,” she repeated determinedly, the effort to remain polite evident in her stiff posture, “you seem like a nice man, but—”

  “Think so?” A laugh escaped him. Damned if she wasn’t doing her best to retreat into social niceties. He was amused. “That’s the first time anyone’s ever called me ‘nice,’ I think, in my entire life. I’m honored.”

  “Don’t be. That wasn’t my intention.” She paced the length of the porch, moving skittishly, her pale legs flashing in the shadows of the porch.

  Their smooth curves were a delight to the eyes, the senses, and Royal wanted to run the palm of his hand over her calves, touch the liquid silk of her skin for hi
mself and lose himself in the pleasure of touch.

  “I’m not trying to compliment you,” she said through clenched lips, skidding to a stop in front of him as he stepped toward her.

  “No? I’m crushed,” he said innocently, goading her on purpose. Irritation, after all, was preferable to pity. And if he could scrape away at that careful reserve of hers, he might find out what was really underneath Elly Malloy’s caution. “Flattery is the second-best way to a man’s heart. If you’re interested,” he added, pushing harder.

  “Not in the least.” She glared at him, the splash of color on her neck and cheeks revealing the temper held tightly in rein.

  Royal was disappointed. He’d gone fishing and come up with an empty stringer. He hadn’t learned diddly. He had, though, found out a lot about Scanlon’s runaway wife.

  Under the surface of this cautious woman was another woman, a woman of fire and passion with a recklessness to match his own. That was the woman who intrigued him. “Well, you’re not interested in winning my heart, you’re not trying to flatter me. So what are you trying to do, Ms. Malloy?”

  “I’m trying to tell you, Mr. Gaines, as clearly as I can, that I’m not—in the market.” Pacing back and forth, she bumped into a child-size stool, tipping it over.

  Righting the stool before she could, Royal faced her, crowding her a little on purpose as he asked, “In the market for what? Shoot, sugar, far as I know, I’m not selling anything.”

  “Aren’t you?” Cat face tilted to him, she regarded him wryly, her eyes steady on his. “To the contrary, Mr. Gaines. You’re selling something. I just haven’t figured out what it is.”

  “A careful shopper, then, are you?”

  “I like to know the price of what I’m buying, yes.” Exasperation pleated the creamy skin of her forehead, and she threw up her hands. “For heaven’s sake—”

  “You’re not subject to the lure of the forbidden? The impulse purchase?” Pleased that he’d finally gotten under her skin, he needled her again. “Never been tempted, Ms. Malloy?”

  “I know what I can afford. More important, I know what’s beyond my price. I stay away from things I can’t afford, even when they tempt me.” She settled her hat firmly on her head, sending tendrils of that fine, cloudy brown hair winging every which way. “And I’m beginning to suspect that you’re a man, Mr. Gaines, who knows the price of everything and the value of nothing.”