Harlequin Superromance August 2013 - Bundle 1 of 2: What Happens Between FriendsStaying at Joe'sHer Road Home

by Beth Andrews

  Still. She was so damned adorable. And he’d missed her so damned much.

  He kicked his conscience out of his head, set his beer on the counter and moved around the island. Allison backed away and ended up trapped in the corner between the sink and the refrigerator. He stopped. He needed her to listen and the closer he got, the more she’d panic and the less she’d hear.

  “I miss you,” he said. Good going, asshole.

  “You miss the life you used to have.”

  “Would you stop putting words in my mouth?”

  She looked away. When she looked back her eyes were sad. “Nothing has changed.”

  “I’ve changed.” He had. A little.

  Her gaze dropped to the remains of his beer. “Not enough,” she said, and she sounded so damned prissy she set off a throbbing in his groin. Something clued her in and she flushed bright red. “This is business,” she said, a little desperately. “Nothing more.”

  “Even though we both feel more.”

  She shrugged. “Leftovers.”

  Okay, that pissed him off. He backed away, out of reaching distance. Otherwise he just might drag her down to the floor and show her what his taste buds were really craving for lunch. And it had nothing to do with leftovers.

  Then again...

  He’d achieved what she’d accused him of planning that very first day—making her want him. Trouble was, she wasn’t following the next step in the plan. She wasn’t begging to stay.

  So maybe he’d settle for just plain begging.

  Before she could blink he took the three steps needed to bring him up close and personal. He rested his palms on either side of her and leaned in. She stared up at him, eyes wide...breath trembling past oh so soft lips.

  “I have one question,” he murmured, his gaze hot on her mouth. “When did I ever make fun of your high heels?”

  “I am so sorry you two—” Ivy rushed back into the room and stopped short. “Make that really, really sorry. But I have to go. My manager’s wife was in an accident. She’s at the hospital and I need to be there.”

  Joe exhaled, and pushed away from Allison. “You okay to drive?”

  “Thanks, I’ll be fine. But here—” she opened the refrigerator, removed a tray of sandwiches and shoved it at him “—take this with you.” She pulled out a bowl of fruit, then half a cheesecake. “These, too.”

  Allison rushed forward to take the sandwiches before they ended up on the floor. “Is there anything we can do before we go?”

  “Just lock up.” She pointed at Allison as she snatched up her purse. “And I really do want to go for that coffee. Call me.” She hurried out of the kitchen. Seconds later the front door opened and closed.

  Quiet descended. Outside, one of Ivy’s horses gave a shrill neigh, and a chorus of moos sounded in response. Joe stared at Allison, who couldn’t seem to look him in the eye.

  “I’m guessing you’re glad my hands are full,” he said dryly.

  She lifted her head and glared. “Last night in the car we agreed we’d reinstate our hands-off policy. If there was one thing I thought I could count on, it was you keeping your word.”

  “Point taken.” He set the fruit and the cheesecake on the counter, picked up his beer and walked to the sink. Hesitated. He wanted to pour it out. Meant to pour it out. But why let her think he wanted to change for her? Why let himself think he had a chance?

  He’d already proved he couldn’t keep his distance. Fine. He’d make sure she kept hers.

  Abruptly he lifted the bottle to his lips and drained it, forced a satisfied sigh and set the empty in the sink. “Let’s head back to the motel. We’ll do some damage to these sandwiches, then pick up where we left off on #5.”

  The drive back was...subdued. Allison helped Joe carry the food into the kitchen, politely declined a sandwich, gave the cat a quick cuddle and left to change into her coveralls.

  He’d wanted distance—and he got it.

  He picked up a sandwich, put it back down, picked it up again, tore half of it off and dumped the filling in the cat’s dish. An orange blur launched itself at the salmon.

  Restlessness wriggled under his skin, poked and prodded at his muscles, had him pacing the length of the tiny kitchen. He couldn’t wait to get back to work. And after that he’d punish himself on the treadmill.

  He swore. Yeah. Like he could outrun his problems. On a treadmill.

  Maybe what he needed was to focus on someone else’s problems. Someone like Allison, who, come to think of it, never did reveal why she’d been so upset at the party. Whatever had made her fall apart, he was certain it involved more than him or Mitzi or the job she was so determined to cling to.

  Maybe he could help. He damned well owed it to her to try. He could talk and still keep his distance, couldn’t he?

  The back of his neck prickled with sweat as he washed his hands and headed for the bedroom and a clean shirt. Two minutes later he was striding down the sidewalk, the unsteady punch of his heart taking him back in time, reminding him how edgy he’d been during his first date with Allison. She’d been curious, asking all kinds of questions, determined to see the man beneath the slick veneer. Meanwhile he’d been determined to see the body beneath the sexy dress. But they hadn’t even made it through their salads before he began to wonder why the hell it had taken him so long to ask her out. But that was then....

  He was halfway to her room when he heard her talking—and it wasn’t in her happy voice. Which meant she was probably on a call with Tackett. It also meant she’d left her door open—she must have been on her way out when her cell rang.

  He turned back toward the office. She deserved her privacy. Then he heard a male voice, one he didn’t recognize, and he froze. Whoever the man was, he was angry.

  And he was in Allison’s room.

  Joe broke into a run.

  CHAPTER NINE

  ALLISON’S HEART KEPT up its frantic bounce as she glared across the room at the scruffy lowlife poised in front of the open window. The intruder glared back, his lean body stone-still, his left foot barely touching the floor. His mouth was tight with pain—he must have twisted his ankle while scrambling to escape. If it weren’t for the threat in his eyes, and the whole hired thug thing, she might have actually felt sorry for him. He looked young—like barely-out-of-his-teens young.

  Didn’t mean he wouldn’t hurt her.

  “I already talked to Sammy,” she said, and resented the desperation in her voice. “So why’d he send you?”

  This was bad. This was very, very bad. She’d brought a loan shark’s hired muscle straight to Joe’s motel. The good people of Castle Creek would have her tarred and feathered within the hour.

  Footsteps pounded down the sidewalk. Allison looked over her shoulder and Joe exploded through the doorway. He scanned the room and went rigid, thrust her behind him and locked gazes with the intruder.

  “Did he hurt you?”

  She shook her head, lips pressed tight so they wouldn’t wobble. “You still think no creepy crawlies can get in?”

  “Tell me what happened, Allison.” Joe put out a hand toward the stranger in the universal “don’t shoot us, stab us or maim us in any way” gesture. That’s when Allison started to shake. Could this guy be armed?

  The young man did look unstable, with his angry eyes, every-which-way hair and grubby clothes. Yet he remained still, except for the ragged breathing he struggled to bring under control.

  “I—I opened the door and startled him,” she said. “He dropped something and made a break for the window.”

  Slowly Joe backed up, nudging Allison toward the door. “Okay, you son of a bitch. We’re going to the office to call 9-1-1. You’ll have maybe ten minutes before the sheriff arrives, so if you don’t want to end up in cuffs you’d better get th
e hell out of here.”

  Allison stopped moving. Her nose ended up between Joe’s shoulder blades. “We can’t do that.”

  “Can’t do what, let him go? Screw that. He’s hurt. He won’t get far.”

  “I mean, we can’t call 9-1-1.”

  Joe shot her an incredulous glance, and over his shoulder she saw the same astonished look on the stranger’s face. “Why the hell not?”

  She bit her lip. “It’ll complicate things.”

  “It’ll—” Joe looked from her to the intruder and back again. “Judas Priest, do you know this guy?”

  “Not personally. But I know why he’s here.”

  Eyes ablaze, Joe grabbed her by the arm. “What the hell are you mixed up in?”

  “Let her go.” Joe and Allison both jumped at the rusty sound of the intruder’s voice. Allison stared. He was defending her?

  Joe jerked his chin at him. “You.” Another jerk, at the small bench under the window. “Sit.” The young man ignored him, and for the moment Joe returned the favor. He aimed his narrowed gaze at Allison instead. “And you. Out with it.”

  “He wants money.”

  “Most burglars do.”

  “I’m not a burglar,” their visitor said hotly.

  Joe grunted. “Well, you’re sure as hell not here to take a meter reading.”

  “You can’t keep me here.” His voice was sounding strained. He took a few limping steps toward the door. “Get out of my way.”

  “Not until I know why you’re here.”

  “I got lost. And I wouldn’t be here if you’d get the eff out of my way.”

  Joe dropped his arms, stood tall and jabbed a finger at the bench. “Sit down and shut up. Or I call the cops. Now.” The intruder hesitated, then hobbled backward and sat, expression mutinous. Jaw equally rigid, Joe turned back to Allison. “Who. Is. He.”

  Her stomach churned and she wanted nothing more than to collapse down onto the bed. But then Joe would be looming over her, and she was already feeling intimidated enough, thank you very much. Plus, she needed to be able to scramble out of the way should Sammy’s minion make a run for it.

  She settled for leaning against the nearest wall. Damn it, she hadn’t wanted this to come out. She sighed. “He works for a loan shark.”

  The young man shot to his feet. “I do not.” His face went pale and he sank back down onto the bench, holding his left leg.

  Joe rounded on Allison. “You took money from a loan shark?”

  “Not took. Borrowed.” She turned from Joe and frowned at their visitor. “You don’t work for Sammy?”

  He shook his head.

  Joe scrubbed a hand over his face. “There’s no car out front. How did you get here?”

  No response.

  “If you didn’t come for money, what did you come for?” As Joe spoke he moved to shield Allison—making it clear to everyone in the room what he’d thought the young man had been after. Allison couldn’t help but shudder, though she hadn’t gotten that vibe from him. When she’d first spotted the intruder, he’d seemed as shocked and scared to see her as she’d been to see him.

  “I would never do anything...like that.” He pushed to his feet, revulsion twisting his features.

  The tension in Joe’s back eased slightly. “Then why are you in this room?”

  His gaze darted toward the floor on Joe’s left. The something he’d dropped. Joe bent and scooped it up. Red tinged the other man’s unshaven cheeks.

  “A paperback?” Joe stared down at the murder mystery Allison hadn’t had time to crack open. She moved closer, and watched as comprehension mingled with the fury on Joe’s face. “Have you been living here?”

  Their intruder recoiled, gave his head a quick, negative jerk.

  With deliberate motions Joe set the book on the dresser and rested his hands on his hips. “Out back, then. In the woods.”

  Silence.

  “You scared the hell out of a little girl. And you’ve been stealing food. Time for you to move on. Leave now and I won’t call the police.”

  “He’s hurt.” Allison gestured at his ankle. “How do you expect him to leave?”

  “Through the door.” Joe nudged Allison out of the way and stepped aside, waved a hand toward the parking lot. “Let’s go.”

  The young man pushed away from the wall and started for the door. Step, hop. Step, hop. Even from across the room Allison could hear the grind of his teeth.

  “For God’s sake, Joe, he can hardly walk. We need to get him to a hospital.”

  “No. I won’t let you take me there.” He spit out the words and kept moving.

  Allison put a hand on Joe’s arm. “He has no place to stay and he’s obviously not getting enough to eat. We have to do something.”

  “You make an idiotic decision like doing business with a loan shark and expect me to take your advice?” He passed a hand over his eyes. “Don’t you know dealing with a loan shark is illegal?”

  It was Allison’s turn to grind her teeth together. “So making him suffer is supposed to punish me?”

  “Hell.” Joe pushed his fingers through his hair. “You’re right.” He stepped in front of the young man. “Just tell me you’re not one of those asshole vandals back to finish the job.”

  He froze, and Allison frowned. “What vandals?” she asked.

  “Couple months ago I’m running errands in the city when I get a call from the sheriff’s department. Someone reported a break-in here at the motel. Deputies got here in time to put out a fire. The call came from—” he stopped, and peered at the young man “—inside the motel.”

  He faced Joe squarely. “I didn’t start the fire. But I did make the call.”

  “Then I owe you one.” Joe offered his hand. The young man hesitated for the longest while then finally accepted the gesture. Joe motioned toward the parking lot. “Let me pull the truck up. I’ll take you to the hospital so you can get that ankle checked out.”

  “No.”

  “No hospital. Okay. How about the clinic?”

  He shook his head. “No doctors.”

  Allison stepped forward. “Will you let Joe take a look? He used to play rugby. He knows all about sprains.”

  A couple of beats, then the young man nodded. Joe exhaled. “Good. Stay put. We’ll be right back.”

  Panic slid across his face. Joe quickly held up a palm. “No tricks. I said I owe you one. But if you try to take advantage of this—”

  “I won’t.”

  “Then wait for us.” Joe took Allison’s hand and led her outside. He swore under his breath all the way to the office. Once inside she followed him into the kitchen, where he retrieved a first aid kit from the cabinet above the refrigerator.

  “When were you going to tell me about this Sammy?”

  “I wasn’t. It’s none of your business.”

  He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and slammed the door shut. The whole thing shook. “You thought a loan shark had sent someone after you. Sent someone here, to my motel. Yet it’s none of my business?”

  “Exactly.”

  His eyes went dark and narrow. He wheeled around and strode from the kitchen and back outside. Reluctantly she followed. The last thing she wanted was for him to discover the truth.

  Because he’ll realize you’re an idiot?

  No one asked you.

  Awesome. Now she was talking to herself and answering back.

  Joe was pacing the sidewalk. “Whatever kind of trouble you’re in, you obviously believe it could have followed you here. Therefore, I have a right to know.”

  “Fine. Fine. I owe some money.” He waited. “I thought he was here to collect.” More waiting. Finally he gave a baffled shrug.

  “You make a good livin
g and you have excellent credit. Why not go to a bank? And don’t you dare tell me it’s none of my business. Not now.” His expression turned suddenly ferocious. “Tackett. If he’s dragged you into something dirty, so help me God—”

  “No,” she cried. If Joe thought her boss had anything to do with this he’d never return to D.C. “He’s not involved.”

  “Convince me. I deserve to know what we’re dealing with, here.”

  He was right. She ignored the crumbling sensation in her chest and licked her lips. “It’s my mother, okay? She gambles.”

  He swung away, stepped off the sidewalk onto the parking lot and stared out at the road. Turned back and spread his arms. She concentrated on the water bottle and the first aid kit he held, rather than meeting the contemptuous disbelief in his eyes.

  “You write me off for drinking, yet you’re working your ass off to cover the debts of a chronic gambler?”

  “She’s my mother.” Allison hadn’t talked to Beryl Kincaid since that hideous conversation outside the bar, but she knew she inevitably would. Of course she would. She was her mother.

  “They’re her debts. You’re enabling her.”

  “I don’t need you to judge me.”

  “No. What you need is for me to knock some sense into you.”

  “Don’t you touch her!”

  They turned to see their intruder standing outside Allison’s door, one hand braced against the stucco, the other curled into a fist.

  Joe let his arms fall back to his sides. “Take it easy, man. It was a figure of speech. I would never hurt her. I would never hurt any woman.” When the young man didn’t move a muscle, Joe gestured with the kit. “You’ll just have to take my word for it. Now let’s take a look at that ankle.” He hesitated then started to lower himself to the curb. Joe shook his head. “Inside.” He didn’t bother looking at Allison as he followed her would-be protector back to her room.

  Seemed Joe was finally getting the message. There were just too many reasons they would never be a good fit. She pulled her lips in and trailed after them.

  “Feels better already.” The young man demonstrated by putting weight on his foot as he headed for the bed.