“Eyes?”
How to describe them? she wondered. “Pale gray, but not flat. More silver I would say.”
“Ooh, those sound nice.”
They were. And when he looked at her... Man, her insides turned to mush.
“Body?”
Rhiannon grinned. “Amazing.”
Elizabeth chuckled. “Ass?”
“Mouthwatering.”
“Poor you,” her friend remarked with faux sympathy. “Having to follow that guy around.”
Rhiannon sighed dramatically. “It’s a tough job, but somebody’s got to do it.”
She cranked her car and slid out into traffic behind Will. Her cell suddenly beeped, indicating a call waiting. She frowned. “Hey, Liz, I’m getting another call.”
“Keep me posted,” her friend said.
Rhiannon hit the flash button. “Hello.”
“How long are you going to keep this up?” he asked, glaring at her from his rearview mirror.
She smiled brightly. “How did you get my number?”
“Same way I got your address. From the agency’s file. How long?” he growled. Strangely, that was a turn-on. She wondered if he made the same noise in bed.
“For as long as it takes. Indefinitely. Forever. Whichever comes first. Why? Am I starting to get on your nerves?”
“No.”
“Liar.” She laughed. “I can see you scowling from here.”
“Shit,” he muttered, but she saw him smile. And oh, that smile...
“All of this could be avoided if you would simply let me help you.”
“What part of no don’t you understand?”
“I understand the word,” she said, relieved when he pulled up in front of the diner. “It’s the reasoning I’m having trouble with.”
He sighed. “You’re going to drive me crazy, aren’t you?”
She fluffed her hair in the rearview mirror. “Only until you see sense.”
Chapter 4
Rhiannon Palmer slid into the booth across from him and blithely snagged a menu from behind the napkin holder. “I’m so glad you finally stopped for lunch. I was starving.”
Tanner chewed the inside of his cheek, reluctantly admiring her tenacity while simultaneously annoyed beyond reason. “Glad I could accommodate you.”
She perused the menu. “I’m used to eating on a schedule, you know. I get cranky when I get hungry.”
He moved the salt and pepper shakers to the middle of the table and arranged his silverware. “You’re diabetic, too?”
“No,” she said, popping the menu back into its place. “School. I’m the guidance counselor at Begonia Elementary.”
Tanner snorted. “Guidance counselor?”
She straightened and those violet eyes narrowed fractionally. “My profession amuses you?”
“No, but imagining you as a guidance counselor does.”
“Why?”
“Because my guidance counselor was a soft-spoken, bun-wearing cat lover who gave out ‘Kindness Pays’ stickers and cherry suckers.” He purposely let his gaze drift over her. “You don’t exactly fit the stereotype.”
Furthermore, weren’t guidance counselors supposed to be soothing? Rhiannon Palmer was anything but.
She was a live wire. One touch and she would fry him senseless, render him unable to form complete sentences. She was a red-hot mess—and despite better sense and a relatively keen sense of self- preservation, he was utterly fascinated by her.
He did not have time to be fascinated by her.
New job—one she was seemingly determined to ruin for him—missing old man with diabetes; the list was endless.
Honestly, when she’d made the “hard way” comment, he’d had no idea what to expect. He’d actually thought she meant that she was going to have to do things the hard way. Like, by herself. It had never occurred to him that the unpredictable beauty would follow him.
But that was exactly what she’d been doing all afternoon. He’d come out of the Watson Plantation manor—gorgeous, but ultimately unhelpful— and there she’d been. Sitting in a little hybrid SUV sporting a bumper sticker that said, “Well-behaved women rarely make history.” And she’d actually waved at him, as though this were completely normal. As if they were old friends.
Bizarre.
“Afternoon, Rhi,” the tall, thin waitress said. “I was beginning to wonder if you were going to show up today.”
Rhiannon sent Tanner a pointed glare. “Unexpected delay. Please tell me you put a plate back for me,” she wheedled shamelessly.
The waitress smiled. “Of course.”
Her face brightened. “You’re a peach, Wanda. Thanks.”
“Tea?”
She nodded once. “Yep.”
Wanda’s attention swung to him. “And what can I get for you, sir?”
“I’ll just have what she’s having.”
Wanda made a moue of regret. “Sorry. We’re out.”
Rhiannon smiled at him and offered up a small shrug. “Sorry. Have the open-faced roast beef,” she suggested. “It’s excellent.”
“What are you having?”
“Meat loaf.”
Dammit, he loved meat loaf.
“We should have gotten here earlier,” she said, seemingly sensing his irrational displeasure.
Feeling like a total idiot, Tanner purposely schooled his expression into one that didn’t make him look like a moron and simply nodded. “The roast beef, then,” he said.
She widened her eyes in exaggerated wonder after Wanda walked away, and looked out the window toward the street. “Looks like I’m not the only one who gets cranky when he gets hungry,” she remarked in a significant voice.
“I’m not cranky,” he said. “I’m annoyed. There’s a difference.”
Another fatalistic shrug, as though this was all his fault. “You wanted to do it the hard way.”
Though there was absolutely nothing dirty about what she’d said, his imagination nevertheless immediately leaped in that direction, which only served to irritate him further. Actually, he’d rather not do it at all, but he couldn’t say that to her without fear of innuendo.
Tanner rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Please tell me that you aren’t going to do this—follow me— all the way to Philadelphia.”
Her gaze sharpened. “So that’s where we’re headed?”
He swore and leaned back.
“Watch your language,” a little old lady in the booth directly behind him snapped. “I’ve got my grandson over here.”
Rhiannon snickered as Tanner flushed beet-red and turned to offer an awkward apology.
Bloody frickin’ hell.
Wanda returned with their plates and he stared broodingly at her meat loaf. She speared a bite and popped it into her mouth, then sighed with pleasure. The way her lips closed around her fork was particularly sensual and it didn’t take much to imagine her mouth around another, increasingly hard part of his anatomy. Sweat suddenly dampened his upper lip.
She was going to be the death of him.
“You can’t keep following me,” he said, gallingly hearing a note of desperation in his own voice.
“You’re right. It would be better if we traveled together.” She sipped her tea. “We should take my car, though. It uses less of the world’s finite resources.”
Tanner dredged his soul for another ounce of patience. “That’s not what I meant, and you know
it.”
She took a deep breath and set her fork aside for the moment. “What is it about me going with you exactly that you object to?”
He blinked. “What?”
“Why exactly would it be so terrible for me to help you?”
It was a good question, Tanner would admit, and he wished he had an equally good answer. In all fairness, if she was going to trail after him—and he knew she was—it did make more sense for them to travel together. She had more knowledge about his target than any other person, and particular intel o
n the so-called treasure Watson was after. Logically, it made sense.
But...
He drew back and lifted his shoulders in an unconcerned shrug. “I’ve already told you. This is a new job. My first case. I may be new to the agency, but I’ve read the handbook—”
She gave an it-figures eye roll, which—while irritating—he chose to ignore.
“And you are against the rules.” Strictly speaking, that was a lie. The handbook hadn’t covered how to avoid irritating women hell-bent on “helping” him. “I can’t afford any distractions,” he finished.
“I would not be a distraction. I would be helpful.”
Helpful or not, she would still be a distraction. A beautiful, sexy, charming distraction he didn’t have time for. Ranger Security was paying him to find Theodore Watson, not for trying to seduce the old man’s friend. And Tanner knew himself well enough to know that he wouldn’t be able to resist her. It had been too damned long since he’d been with a woman and she was too tempting by half. Human nature. Sexual chemistry. He’d seen a flicker of awareness in her eyes, too. It didn’t take a genius to see where this would ultimately lead.
Bed.
And as wonderful as that might be—and he instinctively knew she would quite literally rock his world—this was not the time or place for it.
Furthermore, there was something about her that made him slightly...uneasy, for lack of a better description. Interesting behavior aside, there was something almost compelling about her. He could feel her drawing him in, and he had the most irrational urge to confide in her. To simply blurt out the truth. To tell her he couldn’t afford to fuck up this job, that it was the last damned thing holding him to a career he used to love. That tied him to a past that, despite years of good deeds, he could no longer be proud of.
It was tainted with death.
Help me...
She leaned forward, laid her hand over his and smiled softly. “Are you okay?”
Predictably, her touch sizzled through him, chasing the images away with the flame of instant desire.
Tanner essayed a smile and was surprised at how easily the lie rolled off his tongue. “Of course.” He paused. “But you still can’t come with me.”
* * *
He was such a liar, Rhiannon thought, and she was more than prudently intrigued by whatever was haunting him. The pain she’d felt settle around him like a shadow was positively debilitating and yet he’d merely smiled and managed to shrug it off. Not completely, of course, and there would come a point when he would not be able to do it, but...
It was none of her business.
Seriously. None of her concern. He was here to find Theo and that was all.
Furthermore, she instinctively knew—and didn’t need any sort of El to know this—that he would not welcome any interference on her part. Denial was getting him through whatever horror was haunting his soul and it was not her place to point out that it was futile. That a reckoning would eventually come.
Even if she wanted to.
Even now she could feel herself leaning toward him, trying to draw him in and thereby draw out whatever was hurting him. She’d always been an emotional magnet, had always felt compelled to help people process their feelings, but even Rhiannon acknowledged this was more potent than anything she’d ever experienced before. She’d been telling him repeatedly that she could help him, but only now realized the secondary truth in her own statement.
Whether he knew it or not, Tanner Crawford needed her.
Unfortunately, she could tell that he was still as hell-bent as ever that she not come along with him. She didn’t have to be able to read his mood to know that. It was written in every line in his face—the implacable gaze, the hard angle of his jaw, the determined firmness of his distractingly sexy chin.
Perhaps a new tack was in order. “Okay, fine. You win.”
He blinked at her seeming capitulation and his gaze grew suddenly suspicious. “What do you mean I win? I win what?”
“I won’t ask to come with you again. I’ll just follow you, if you don’t mind.” She sighed heavily and played her trump card. “I’ll feel safer.”
Total crock of bullshit. She’d driven across the country alone when she was eighteen for the hell of it. Because she’d wanted to see the Pacific Ocean. She’d spent three months backpacking across Europe, staying in hostels and the like. While she wasn’t exactly fearless—spiders scared the hell out of her—she was no shrinking violet and never would be.
But if playing one got her what she wanted, then so be it.
“Safer?” he deadpanned. “How so?”
“Oh, you know. A woman traveling alone. Without protection. Easy target for serial killers and rapists.”
He snorted. “I think you are perfectly capable of taking care of yourself.”
She inwardly preened at the comment, but purposely furrowed her brow. “I hope so,” she said. “I’ve got some mace.” And a taser and a brown belt, but he didn’t need to know that.
His cheek creased with a smile and he leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “You should send a thank-you to your local drama teacher,” he remarked, that gray gaze lingering on her face. “You’re quite good.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” Her lips betrayed her with a twitch and he didn’t miss it.
“Aha! See, there we go. You’re bullshitting me.
“Language,” Rhiannon reminded him with a significant nod over his shoulder. “Mrs. Parker will wallop you next time.”
Still grinning, he leaned forward. “Give it up,” he said. “I don’t have time for this. Every minute I spend arguing with you is another minute I could be looking for Mr. Watson.”
“You’re having lunch,” she said innocently. “I’m not wasting your time.”
“But you will,” he muttered ominously.
“Sorry?”
“I’ll call you,” he promised. “I will keep you apprised.”
She shook her head. ‘That’s not good enough. I have to help. I have to find him. He’s like family to me.” Her voice broke at the end and there was no drama intended. She didn’t know what she would do without Theo. He was her rock, her very best friend.
Something in his expression shifted, softened, and Rhiannon took the opportunity to press her advantage.
“Have you been to Theo’s house yet?” she asked.
“No.” He grimaced. “Tad was supposed to leave me a key, but forgot. I can get in, of course, but I’d rather not have to break a window or screw up the lock.”
She grinned. “I have a key.”
“Have you been over there already?”
“Of course.” She waited, forcing him to ask her what he wanted to know.
“Well?”
“Well what?”
He exhaled mightily. “Did you notice anything unusual? Check the messages on his machine? Was anything missing?”
No, she hadn’t thought to check the messages on his machine and she wasn’t altogether certain anything was missing, other than Theo. He had watered his plants, though, and stopped his mail. Martha, their carrier, had told her that. She should probably go back with him, Rhiannon realized. Much as it pained her to admit it, there were things he would likely think of that she wouldn’t.
She thoughtfully chewed the inside of her cheek, then gave a brisk nod, deciding. “I did not check his messages,” she said. She told him about the plants and the mail. “He would have taken copies of his grandfather’s journals, I would imagine, though I didn’t look to see if they were gone. We also need to check his luggage. See if he took the big case or a smaller one.”
“We?” he drawled.
“We,” she insisted. “Key, remember?”
“Fine.” He relented. “I’ll admit you’ll be useful in this instance, so I will allow you to accompany me.”
She rolled her eyes and picked up the check. Control freak. “Bet that high-handed attitude doesn’t get you laid much,” Rhiannon said, slid
ing out of the booth.
A startled chuckle broke up in his throat. “I don’t need the attitude to get laid,” he said, falling into step behind her.
She could feel his gaze on her ass and couldn’t repress the smile sliding over her lips. “Yeah, you’re right,” she agreed with a lamentable sigh. “Probably best if you keep your mouth shut.”
He guffawed. “I’ll keep that in mind next time.”
Rhiannon presented her check to the cashier. “Enjoyed it, Willie,” she called back toward the kitchen.
Wilhelmina Malone lumbered into view, her dark face wreathed in her usual smile. “Glad to hear it, child. You get a piece of pie?”
“Better not,” Rhiannon said, smacking her hip. “It’ll end up right here.” Or on her sizable ass, she thought.
While she never really dieted—she liked food too much for that—she nevertheless tried not to be a glutton. She could easily stand to lose ten to fifteen pounds, but the extra weight didn’t bother her enough to motivate her to try. She actually liked being a little curvy. Women were supposed to be, dammit, despite what the current issue of Vogue said.
“Nonsense,” Willie told her. “Help yourself and get a slice for your friend there, too.” She looked Tanner up and down. “Looks like he could use a good piece of pie.”
Between her telling him how to get a piece of ass and Willie telling him he needed a piece of pie, she was beginning to wonder if Tanner was starting to feel a bit abused.
“Thanks,” she said, then shot Tanner a look over her shoulder as she made her way to the pie case. “Chocolate, lemon or pecan?” she asked.
“What are you having?”
“Chocolate.”
“Then that’s what I’ll have.”
Rhiannon peered into the case and tsked regretfully. “There’s only one piece of chocolate left.”
His lips twisted wryly. “Figures.”
“You can have it,” she told him. “I’d rather have the lemon.” She put the slices of pie into a carton and snagged a couple of plastic forks from the cup on the counter.
He sighed. “I’ll take the lemon. I’m not going to steal your pie.”
CROSSING THE LINE (RANGER SECURITY Book 5) Page 4