Don't Close Your Eyes

by Christie Craig

  “Yeah.”

  “Does he know where Fran is?”

  “No and he said she always calls her daughter every day, but hasn’t since she went to the funeral.”

  Annie caught her breath. “Do you think something happened to her?”

  “I don’t know. Blount agreed to file a Missing Persons report in Austin. In the morning, I plan on calling to follow up. Tomorrow Sheriff Harper plans to go back to visit the Reeds and ask about Fran Roberts.”

  She hugged herself. “I don’t like this.”

  “I know. But I’m looking into it.”

  She nodded. “I appreciate that.”

  “I know that, too.” And he did.

  The few beats of silence seemed to push that conversation away. “We should go,” she said.

  They started moving to the door when she stopped and faced him. She was so close her scent filled his air.

  “Wait. You said you had a couple of things to get out of the way. What was the other?”

  “This.” He leaned down and kissed her.

  He intended the kiss to be short and sweet. An appetizer for what he hoped to indulge in later, but the second his lips brushed hers, the short part of the equation got lost in the sweet part.

  Then sweet turned into heat. She shifted closer. He turned slightly so his shoulder holster and gun wouldn’t get in the way. Then the amazing softness of her breasts pressed against his chest. His right hand shifted up to her neck, where his fingers met up with the silk of her hair. His left hand went to her waist. Finding and easing into her soft curve.

  Her tongue slipping between his lips was all the invite he needed to let his own explore. Sweet bypassed heat and shot straight to hot.

  Want and desire tightened his southern regions and had his hands itching to explore some too. When the idea to lift her skirt and push her against the wall crossed his mind, he pulled back, caught his breath, and yanked his libido to this side of sanity.

  He waited for her to open her eyes.

  Her lashes fluttered open. She appeared dazed, then embarrassed. She inched back, breaking the feel of her body against his.

  “The first kiss is usually awkward.” He looked at her wet lips. “Getting it out the way is best. But that wasn’t awkward.”

  “Yeah. No. I was…I mean…We should go.” She motioned toward the door.

  Her inability to string a sentence together told him a lot. So did the little voice in his head warning him that he might like her too much.

  Chapter Ten

  Smokey scents of grilled meat filled Buck’s Place restaurant, and Annie breathed it all in as she dropped into the chair across from Mark.

  The ride over here had been uncomfortable. She couldn’t move past the kiss. Or rather her reaction to it. One kiss and she was practically his for the taking. Since when…

  “They serve just about anything, lots of Cajun dishes, but their barbeque is the house specialty.” He frowned over his menu at her. “Don’t tell me you’re vegetarian.”

  She forced a smile. “No. My mouth’s watering.”

  “I’ve never been disappointed with the food,” he added. Their gazes met across the table and held.

  “Speaking of my food.” A barrel-chested man who spoke with a slight Cajun accent stopped at their table, holding a bowl. “I was leaving when someone said you were here. I’ve been waiting for you to come in. This”—he set a small bowl on their table—“is my new barbeque sauce and I want your opinion.”

  Mark dropped his menu. “Buck Bradley, this is Annie Lakes. Buck’s the owner and chef.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Annie said.

  Buck looked back at Mark. “You always do know how to pick the pretty ones. Now try my sauce.”

  “Why mess with perfection?” Mark said. “Your sauce is the best.”

  “This is better.” Buck looked at Annie. “Mark’s a sauce expert. Did he tell you him and couple of buddies took second place at this year’s Rodeo cook-off?”

  Annie glanced at Mark. “No, he didn’t.”

  Buck reared back on his heels. “Not that he’d tell me their secret ingredient.”

  “I told you, give me your secret ingredient and I’d give you mine.” Mark picked up a spoon and dipped it into the sauce and tasted it. He grinned. “Okay, you win. This is better. Is that whiskey I’m tasting?”

  “I’ll never tell, but I knew you’d like it.” Buck grinned. “You two enjoy your dinner. Dessert’s on the house. And we’ve got a band starting soon. Hang around and enjoy the music.” He looked at Annie again. “Make this bum dance with you. He has enough Cajun in him he should know a few moves.”

  When Buck left, Annie looked at Mark. “You’re Cajun?”

  “Mom was.” He glanced back at the menu.

  “Your parents live here?” She realized how little she knew about the man she’d have gone to bed with if he hadn’t stopped the kiss. Admitting that took a swing at her moral compass, but denying it wouldn’t have helped.

  “No.” His focus cut back to the menu. “I recommend the sliced beef dinner.”

  “Hmm,” she said, before she could stop it.

  His gaze rose. “Hmm, what?”

  “Hmm, you’re trying to change the subject.”

  He hesitated, then dropped his menu down. “Both my parents are dead.”

  A flutter of empathy filled her chest. “I’m sorry.”

  “It was a long time ago.” His words sounded indifferent, but she’d bet the pain wasn’t.

  “Yeah, but sometimes it doesn’t feel that way. I miss my dad like he died last week.” She almost ask how his parents had died, but instinct told her not to push. Since she had her own unapproachable issues, she had to respect his.

  He looked up. “I saw the picture on your bookshelf. It looked like you were close to him even as a kid.”

  “Okay, I confess. I was a daddy’s girl.”

  ‘That’s not a bad thing,” Mark settled back in his chair. “What did your father do for a living?”

  “He was a teacher.”

  “College?” He sounded genuinely curious.

  Annie reached for her napkin and stopped before she started fidgeting. “He taught English, elementary school. And he was also choir minister.”

  “Explains your book collections and your halo.”

  “What?”

  He grinned. “I checked out your books. A lot of children’s classics.”

  “And the halo?”

  “Volunteering to take care of sick animals. Taking in a mangled cat.”

  “I don’t wear a halo. And Pirate’s beautiful.”

  He smiled. “I guess beauty really is in the eye of the beholder.”

  And the way he looked at her made her feel beautiful. How long had it been since she’d even entertained that thought? “You don’t have any pets?”

  “I do. His name is Bacon. Seventy-five pounds of yellow Lab.”

  She grinned. “You named your dog Bacon?”

  “We’re both fond of it?”

  “Hmm, dog person,” she said with tease.

  “Cat person,” he countered and pointed at her with his spoon.

  They laughed. “Back to good deeds,” she said. “You’ve got your own halo going on.”

  “Me? You got me mixed up with someone else.” The way he said it hinted that he really didn’t see himself as a good person. For some reason that bothered her.

  “Really? How many coffees have you bought for people? Your ‘good deed for the day.’”

  “It’s five bucks.”

  “It’s an act of kindness.”

  He leaned back in his chair and his smile, a little crooked and a lot sexy, came on slow. “So you’ve been checking me out.”

  Luckily, the waitress sauntered over and his sexually charged expression faded. But she had a feeling it would bounce back. And she needed to figure out how to handle it.

  They both ordered sliced beef dinners. Mark handed her the smaller menu left on the
table. “Since we both like red wine, why don’t you pick out a bottle?”

  “How do you know…”

  “I checked out your wine rack.”

  “Oh.” She ordered the wine. When the waitress left, Annie said, “You learned a lot about me in the short time you were in my apartment.”

  “Part of being a cop. And”—his voice deepened and lowered—“part of being a man interested in a woman.”

  Yup, it was bouncing back.

  His phone rang, and he checked the number. “Excuse me.”

  Annie tried not to listen, but she did. “Yeah? That’s quick.” Pause. “Wait. They still exist?” Pause. “What about the others?” Pause. “Okay, thanks.”

  He hung up. “The number that called you is a pay phone in Pearlsville.”

  “So, it doesn’t help us?”

  “It might. David said it’s downtown. I’ll call the sheriff tomorrow and see if there are any cameras in the area. I also had David run down some numbers of the people who’d called Fran’s ex looking for her.”

  “And?”

  “You, her mom, your mom, and your uncle Allen.”

  Annie let that sink in. “So if they are looking for her, then it means that they aren’t responsible for her disappearance, right?”

  He brushed a palm over his chin. “It’d seem that way.”

  She heard uncertainty in his voice. “But you don’t believe it.”

  “It’s not…I’ve just seen too many cases where the person responsible for a missing person pretends to be looking for them.” He hesitated. “I also had them check on Fran’s cell phone. It’s been turned off since Sunday afternoon.”

  She got a bad feeling. “You think something has happened to her?”

  “I don’t know. Her ex was clear that she does behave erratically sometimes. I wouldn’t start thinking the worst until we know more.”

  The wine and their food came quickly. While they ate, she asked about the barbeque cook-off contest.

  He told her about him and his partners in the Cold Case Unit entering the contest almost as a joke. “It was something to do. We never really expected to win. I mean, I have a nice smoker and enjoy cooking, but I’m far from an expert. Actually, I’m a jack of a lot of trades and not an expert in any.”

  “Yet the news media sings your praises with your ability to close cases.”

  He shrugged.

  “That’s a talent,” she said.

  “Not unless you consider not trusting someone a talent.”

  His words hit hard and she recalled he hadn’t trusted her at first. She wasn’t altogether sure he did now.

  He stared down at his wine as if he knew he’d said the wrong thing. “What do you do when you’re not at the college or the coffee shop?”

  She picked up her glass. “I like to read. I’m a regular patron at the local library. I’m going to start volunteering at an animal shelter here next month, and for the record that doesn’t constitute halo status. Oh, I jog. Not because I love it, but because I love wine and have to offset my wine calorie intake.”

  He grinned. “It’s working. You look great.”

  The compliment was warm and welcome. “And you?”

  “I don’t know. Do I look great?”

  She chuckled. “I meant what do you do when you’re not solving crimes or at the coffee shop?” When he didn’t answer right away she lifted a brow. “You can’t ask me questions you don’t want to answer.”

  “I didn’t know there were rules.”

  She lifted a brow.

  “I’m answering,” he said. “Just getting my ducks in a row. I like to read, but don’t do it because I work too many hours. Don’t volunteer for anything. I like music. Jazz. I know it’s not trendy, but I like it. I play poker twice a month with some of the guys at the precinct. I also run, with Bacon. I don’t love it, but Bacon does. I like to fish, but I don’t do it often because—”

  “—you work too many hours,” she finished for him.

  “See, you already have me figured out.”

  She recalled the dark shades he wore. “I think I’ve only scratched the surface.”

  “The best part is the surface.” An undertone of seriousness laced his words.

  And damn if she didn’t know what he meant. She didn’t like the idea of him discovering below the surface stuff, either. Especially since he already had a hard time believing her. And there it was: a good reason not to let this thing go anywhere. She needed to remember that.

  “So why do you work so many hours?” she asked.

  “It’s the job.”

  “You’re required to work too much.”

  “Not…Okay, maybe I like catching bad guys.”

  After eating less than half of her food, she stopped the waitress and asked for a takeout container.

  “So tell me about the job.” She sipped her water.

  He hesitated. Was he dodging the question? No. He shared the story about the first case he’d worked as a homicide detective. A fisherman had spotted a body, panicked, and ran to call the police. After he and other cops spent two hours mucking through the muddy banks of the lake in hundred-degree weather, they found a mannequin.

  He made it sound intense, interesting, and then funny. He was easy to listen to, easy to talk to. Easy to kiss.

  The waitress cleaned their table, and he poured the rest of the wine in her glass. Wine she wasn’t drinking. She needed her scruples intact.

  “I’m going to have to run five times this week,” she said.

  “Make that six. The dessert is on the house, remember?”

  “Oh, but I can’t eat another bite.”

  The waitress walked up. “Can we have two Better Than Sex Cheesecakes to go?”

  Annie nearly choked on her water when she heard him. The waitress chuckled and walked off.

  Mark grinned. “You can eat it later, but you can’t pass this up. It’s worth jogging for.” His smile deepened. His gaze heated. “Not that I agree with the name.”

  His gaze shifted to her mouth as if he was thinking of the kiss.

  She was thinking about that kiss, too, and she was losing the war. Reaching for her purse hanging on the chair, she pulled out a credit card.

  “No,” he said. “I invited you to dinner.”

  “Thank you, then.” She replaced her card, slung her purse over her shoulder, and looked around for the restrooms. “I’ll be right back.”

  In the bathroom, she dug into her purse looking for her lipstick and her powder, but what she really needed to find was her willpower.

  But nope. She obviously hadn’t brought that with her.

  * * *

  Mark had watched the soft sway of her hips as she moved toward the restrooms. And while she’d disappeared behind the door, he kept seeing it. Feeling it stir up anticipation.

  The sexy sound of a saxophone suddenly filled the air. The bluesy tune with Cajun influence added a new burn to his libido. This was the kind of music Mark liked to make love to. The kind of music he’d like to listen to tonight while feeding her cheesecake and taking off her clothes.

  Turning to the right, trying to turn his thoughts off, he caught a glimpse of the three-man band. He watched the dark-skinned man on center stage sway as he practically made love to his instrument. Mark remembered that feeling from his early teens. His band teacher had sworn Mark had natural talent. The love of music was another thing he lost when he lost his sister.

  His gaze caught on the saxophone. He had almost the same one at home. He’d bought it on a whim as a gift to himself when he graduated college. He’d never played it. At the time, he swore when his life got less complicated, he’d pick it up and see if he could still feel that magic.

  But his life never got less complicated.

  Yet tonight hadn’t felt complicated at all. He could use more nights like this. More of Annie.

  The music flowed and he felt it in his soul. His appreciation for all things Cajun sometimes made him wonder if he
wasn’t trying to hold on to roots that might be best dug up and left to die. But everyone needed something to hold on to, didn’t they?

  As long as they didn’t count on it. He’d learned that the hard way.

  The chair beside him scratched across the floor as someone pulled it out. He turned around to face Annie. “Hey…” The rest of his words sat on his tongue. Unspoken.

  It wasn’t Annie.

  Judith Holt lowered her size three ass in Annie’s chair, picked up Annie’s wineglass, and downed the rest of the wine.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Fury leaked from his tone.

  “What are you doing bringing a date to our restaurant?”

  “This isn’t our restaurant. It’s my restaurant. I brought you here twice.”

  “Forget that. Why don’t you give me a scoop on the Talbot case, and I’ll leave before I ruin your date.”

  He leaned forward. Ultimatums always did rub him the wrong way. “Read my lips, Judith. You’ll never get another lead from me. And if you steal another one, I’ll make it my life’s work to put you behind bars for it.”

  She tilted her head to the side. “You know, you’re a piece of work. What made you like this?”

  “Women like you didn’t help.”

  The waitress came over with the bagged desserts. He grabbed Annie’s leftovers and stood, handed the waitress his card, and took the desserts.

  Looking up, he saw Annie walking toward him. He met her halfway across the room.

  “You ready?” he asked, unable to control the tone of his voice.

  He saw her look over at Judith Holt sitting in what had been her chair.

  “Yeah.” She sounded unsure.

  He walked her to the front of the restaurant then stopped. “Let me get my credit card.”

  She nodded. He turned but saw Judith walking toward them. He swung back around and put his hand on Annie’s lower back and guided her out.

  He’d get his card later.

  When they got into his car, he looked at Annie. “I’m sorry. That was—”

  “I know who she is. I’ve seen her on the news.”

  He started the car. A screwed-up silence filled the air, and it took everything he had not to slam his palms on the steering wheel.

  He felt Annie looking at him. “Are you and her—”