by D. D. Ayres
The linking of “bare” and this woman in the same thought sent a jolt straight through him. Yeah. About that. Suddenly he remembered his package was swinging in the breeze. That, and his bare ass had had her full attention.
She didn’t seem disturbed by his nudity. Of course, he couldn’t see her eyes. She wore circular black shades with thin silver frames that suited her slim face. And then she lifted them with two fingers to peek under them.
“I’m looking for Noah Glover.” She repeated his name through soft lips the color of black cherries.
He turned fully toward her, expression set in challenge. “You found him.” Something about her was vaguely familiar. Not that he’d have forgotten meeting her. Her hair was—well, the closest he could come to describing it was a fountain of tiny blonde curls that fizzed over her brow like a bottle of just-opened champagne. The sides were masculine short and darker. Yep, she was east coast hot. And furious with him. And he didn’t have a clue why.
Then it struck him. She was probably a news reporter. TV, judging by her glamorous style. She’d somehow wormed her way in here to get an exclusive. No wonder she was looking so impressed with herself. He’d give her an exclusive, all right.
He turned fully toward her and folded his arms. “You got something to say? Or did you just come by to get a good look at my junk?”
He watched her eyes widen at his blunt question. She looked taken aback. Not at all the way he’d have expected from a conniving reporter who’d thought she was about to get an exclusive. She looked, well, like a stranger confronted with a deranged man. And then the impression vanished.
She took a step toward him, anger surging through her expression as she advanced. “I came by to see the asshole who ruined my life.”
That scowl. That look was one he’d never forget.
This was his angel of mercy. Yes. Those eyes. Dark and liquid, they seemed enormous in her delicate face. But she was no Bambi. Those dark eyes stared at him as if penetrating past his professional attitude all the way into him, into places even he seldom visited. Could she see every shortcoming, regret, and dissatisfaction with himself he’d ever experienced?
It was disconcerting.
Intimidating.
Arousing.
And he was not ready to deal with even one of those feelings today. Not on any day for a long time. She wasn’t going to be the one to crack a hard case like him. No one got to him like that. Certainly not a gorgeous stranger whose face was registering a lot of emotions. None of them to his credit. He needed to refocus.
So, this is the woman who’d saved his ass, and all his other parts, the night before. Oh yeah. About those parts. First things first.
“Towel.”
She frowned. “What?”
He pointed to the pile of linen on the window ledge. “I’m getting a towel.”
He grabbed one and wrapped it low on his hips, tucking the ends into the waist just below his navel. The terry cloth gaped open over long hairy thighs, but it seemed to be enough to set the temperature of the room back several degrees.
That was before he looked up at her. She was seething. He was angry now, too, and didn’t know why. “What can I do for you?”
Now why did he give her attitude? He saw his tone register on her face and knew he might as well have insulted her outright.
“I just wanted to see for myself, the man who—”
He put up a hand. “I know who you are. You saved my life.”
“Yes, I did, you selfish prick.” She came toward him, eyes nearly slits, as a cascade of words tumbled out of her mouth. “Do you even realize how lucky you are? If your dog hadn’t alerted me that you were there, you would have died. You owe him your life. I suppose that means nothing to you. But you should know that even after I freed him, that sweet dog still wouldn’t leave you in the fire. Clearly he adores you. But you were about to repay his loyalty by burning him up with you. Shame on you. Just because you’ve given up doesn’t give you the right to take an innocent animal with you. You could have dropped him off anywhere—a shelter, a rescue, even dumping him in the street would be humane compared to what you tried to do to. Not to mention what that fire did to my store. But I suppose a guy with your good looks is used to getting things handed to him. Some of us work hard for our dreams and you have no right to destroy them like they’re nothing.”
“Gown.”
She blinked. “What?”
“Hand me one of those gowns. Please.” Talking to her with his dick behaving in unruly ways beneath the towel was beginning to tax his concentration.
She grabbed a gown from the same stack as the towels and threw it at him. “Have you heard a word I’ve said?”
He backed up to the bed, sat, and unfolded the gown. “You called me good-looking.”
“I called you a selfish prick, too.”
Something close to a smile cracked his hard mouth. His voice dropped to a rough whisper as he thrust his arms through the sleeves. “Thank you for saving my life.”
“Oh no. You don’t get to say that. Not after your actions ruined my shop next door. I don’t know what your problems are, and I don’t care. It’s not any of my business you wanted to burn up yourself. But you made a mistake when you ruined my future trying to do it.”
“I didn’t—”
“What? Didn’t mean to burn down my life? Didn’t mean to torture a defenseless animal in the cruelest way imaginable?”
“No. I didn’t—”
“What? Didn’t stop to think? There’s a surprise.”
“I didn’t—” He paused.
She waited three seconds. “What?
He smiled. “Can I finish this time? Thank you. I didn’t do it.”
“Didn’t do what? Start the fire? Try to kill yourself? What?”
He nodded, sucking in a breath. “All of the above.”
“Humph.” Folded her arms. “You left a note.”
That popped him upright away from the bed. “How did you hear about that?”
She just stared at him.
“I’ve got to get out of here.” He jerked the towel out from under the gown.
Carly glanced away, but not quite quick enough to miss another glimpse of his man parts. Not that it was a big deal to her. Still, it was just a bit impressive, that flash. Not that she was interested, or looking, or even remotely curious about a man who’d take his own life.
Then he turned and reached for the phone, and it was too much.
“Would you mind not mooning me?”
He looked back, frowning as he realized what had happened, and reached around to close his gown. But he took his time, not at all embarrassed. “Sorry but you need to get out of here.”
“Hey.” She waited until he turned his head her way. “I’ll tell you what I’m going to do, Mr. Glover. I’m going to find a lawyer and sue your ass … and all your other parts.”
Noah smirked. “Get in line, lady.”
She gasped softly but in the next breath came back harder. “No wonder people don’t like you. But believe it, I’m going to sue you. You, the city for hiring you, and your mother for not rearing a nicer son.”
His lips twitched. “You’d sue my mother?”
“Okay, not your mother.” She began rubbing the place between her brows.
.…
She has impeccable brows. Now why the heck did he think that?
“I’m sure she tried her best.” Oh, right, his mother. “But you, yes.” She pointed a finger at him. She didn’t wear nail polish. “You ruined the lives of women who were counting on me.”
Noah frowned hard, drinking in the details of her slim figure again. “You saved my life? How much do you weigh?”
Those big dark eyes snapped with hostility. “Screw you.”
He forced himself to take a deep breath. “Sorry. That was rude. I’m just thinking you don’t look strong enough to have been able to move me.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Look, I
’m grateful you were there last night. I’m grateful you came to see me. But can we put this conversation on pause so that I can move on to other priorities? Because, believe it or not, there’s something more pressing on my mind than chatting up a beautiful woman.”
“No. You don’t get to do that.” Her hand was moving again, that slim finger waving back and forth in front of her. “You’re going to stand there in that funky gown and listen until I’m finished.” She took a step toward him. “And stop smiling at me. Don’t you take any of this seriously?”
Noah took a breath. “I take all of this very seriously. I didn’t attempt suicide. I certainly wouldn’t harm my dog. And I didn’t take the drugs or the alcohol willingly.”
“No, the Jack Daniels and coke just snuck up behind you and did a beatdown until you gave up. You think I haven’t heard that excuse before?”
His eyes widened. “Who are you?”
“You don’t need to know my name. I just came to tell you that you lack the integrity of a tapeworm.”
He wanted to laugh but it hurt to after having his stomach pumped. “Are you always this sweet and sensitive?”
He watched her take a deep breath before she continued. “Look, I don’t mean to be insensitive about your suicide attempt. I have a great deal of sympathy for people who are in such deep emotional distress they would even consider giving up their lives to end the pain.” She paused again. This time a shadow skirted her expression. “You look like you’ve got all the resources you need to get help. So do that. Get some help, okay? And please don’t ever get a pet again until you’ve gotten the help you need.”
His expression hardened. “How about you mind your own business? I’m fine.”
She straightened to her full height, sympathy ebbing from her gaze. “See. That’s why I didn’t accept your apology. Your dog may be sleeping soundly with no idea what could have happened, but I can’t look at him without—”
He perked up. “You have Harley?
Carly rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “What?”
“My dog—do you know where he is?”
“I … I’d rather not say. And anybody willing to burn up his dog doesn’t deserve one. I think I’ll call all the local shelters and have them put you on a watch list. No more dogs for you.”
Noah felt his teeth grinding. “I didn’t try to burn up anything.”
She cocked her head forward, tossing bright gold curls over her brow. “I know about the confession.”
She’d hinted at that before. Now it dawned on him the importance of that fact. Durvan said it had been kept out of the paper. Someone was leaking information. “Who told you about that text?”
His question was a snarl, startling her. By the look of fear that entered her gaze she must have remembered too late she was supposed to keep that information to herself. But she rallied quickly, her lids lowering over her fear.
“I just heard. Around.”
He bit off a quick string of profanity meant to impress with its viciousness. She just watched, still and alert as a cat confronted by a bulldog. Fear didn’t rattle her. He was impressed.
Switching tactics, he lilted his head to the side, much like his dog did when trying to figure out what he was saying. “I’d like you to tell me who gave you that intel.”
She shrugged. “Confidential source. But you can trust him.”
Him. “Right.”
She hung onto the door latch a few seconds longer. “There’s more to this, isn’t there?” Her voice was quieter, curious.
He held her gaze. “I had no intention of committing suicide last night, or any night. I’d like to tell you more, but it’ll just draw you deeper to this mess. I don’t think I can ask that of you.”
She seemed to consider this, then folded her arms. “I’m already involved.” She stood patiently.
He raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Remember. You asked. Someone tried to kill me last night.”
He watched half a dozen emotions chase one another across her expression as the fingers of her right hand played with the zipper on her jacket.
“Someone tried to burn you up?”
He nodded. “The confession is a lie. The fire was a trap.”
“That somebody must really not like you. Deciding to burn up a person is hate on a very personal level.”
“Let’s say I agree. Now about my dog.”
She shook her head. “He’s in my custody now, where I know he’ll be safe.”
“Seriously? You’d take an injured man’s dog from him?”
“I saved his life. He belongs to me now.”
He smirked. “You saved my life, too. You know what that means?”
Her lids lowered again. “I have an underdeveloped sense of self-preservation.”
He smiled finally, letting it come despite his attempt to hold it back. “I like you. You’re brave. You’re smart. You’re a good—”
“Don’t say it.”
“—person. No, a Good Samaritan.”
“Damn.” She jackknifed away from the door. “I promised God last night that if He got us out of that inferno, I’d go to church every Sunday for the rest of my days.”
“I wouldn’t recommend what you did, but I’m grateful. Truly grateful.”
She stared at him. “You would have died. And you didn’t mean to. Do you have family? A wife? Kids?”
“Yes. No. A son.”
“Where is he?”
“With my folks. He’s four. My wife walked out on us shortly after he was born. My job is too crazy to allow me to rear him alone.”
“So you let your parents do that job?” Again, disapproval of his conduct in her tone.
He hesitated. He seldom talked to anyone about his home life. But maybe he owed her this pound of flesh as proof of his desire to stay alive. “I’m home with him as often as I can be.”
“How often is that?”
“Most nights.”
“So, you live with your parents?” A smile teased her mouth.
“They live with me. Moved in after my wife left. That’s all the speed-dating questions I have time for now. Show yourself out.” He picked up the bedside phone again. “I have some things to take care of.”
“I see. Well, good luck with that.” She opened the door.
“His name’s Harley.”
She looked back and lifted a brow as if she didn’t know who he was talking about. “Who? Your son?”
“My arson dog. Harley Davidson Brown.”
“Why Brown?”
“Seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“You’re a strange man. Does your son like HD Brown?
“Harley? Adores him.”
“He would.”
His smile turned very persuasive. “So you’ll give Harley back?”
She rolled a slim shoulder. “I don’t know any Harley.”
“Look. I need to know. Is my dog okay? If he needs to go to the vet, please take him. I’ll pay.”
He thought he saw her gaze soften, but her frown didn’t clear. “Wherever this Harley is? He’s fine. Safe and fed. Promise.”
“But how did you—?” Before he could finish the sentence she slipped out.
Noah stood staring at the door after she was gone. He wasn’t certain what had just happened, but he knew he’d lost the match. And he wanted to go another round with her. Badly.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Carly adjusted her hard hat as she stood in the midst of Flawless. Nothing was burned. Nothing was even singed. But everything, everywhere she looked, was ruined. The sprinkler system had done its job, soaking every surface to prevent the fire from spreading. And then the firefighters had come in to make certain the sprinklers had delivered enough water to keep any embers from reigniting. And the smell of smoke permeated everything, even with the door flung open. The space had been pronounced as safe to navigate, but her eyes were reddened by the fumes still lingering in the air.
She picked up one of the handmade silk cushio
ns that had bled their vegetable colors into one another. The painted concrete floor had disappeared beneath the debris of collateral damage. Racks of accessories that looked as if they had been pushed aside by busy hands, lay trampled. Other items drowned in the funky water that smelled of smoke sloshing at her booted feet. Water might not have ruined everything, but then the ceiling had fallen in, heavy plaster smashing counters, tables, chairs, whatever broke its fall.
“It’s not too bad. You have the integrity of the walls holding and there’s no visible fire damage to the rafters.” The insurance claims adjuster who accompanied her to survey the damage sounded almost cheerful as she pointed upward.
Carly stared up at the jagged hole in her ceiling. She vaguely remembered the fire chief explaining to her the night before, as he helped her secure her store to keep away looters, that old buildings have cocklofts, a word that sounded medieval. It was a narrow crawl space above the ceiling, what she would have called an attic. Fire went up, he’d explained. Heat, smoke, and embers from a fire in a room below naturally spread up into the cockloft. Firefighters had gotten on the roof and pumped water into the cockloft above the burning shop. Old buildings like this one often didn’t have a firewall between each shop cockloft. Flawless shared cockloft space with the shop next door, so the water had flowed along the rafters above her shop as well. Water equals weight equals ceiling collapse. Total disaster for her shop, and her immediate dreams.
Carly did not cry as her gaze lowered to the mangled space she rented. But she sucked on her lower lip. Hard.
“Your landlord will need to get a structural engineer in here to verify that the integrity of the shop remains sound. That’s his responsibility to his tenants. But I see no reason your insurance won’t cover this damage.” The arson investigator had signed off on the paperwork stating that “nothing in your store was the cause of the fire.”
“I know the cause of the fire. I was here.” Carly grabbed her lower lip again with her teeth. Not. Going. To. Cry.