Backrush

by Jana DeLeon

  “That must be hard.”

  He shrugged. “Not really. With no family to worry about me or count the days until my return, I’ve got an advantage over most.”

  She frowned. What he said made sense, of course, but it bothered her. Was there really no one in his life wondering if he was all right? Waiting for him to step onto American soil again? She couldn’t imagine being that alone. Granted, she didn’t have a husband or kids and no extended family to speak of, but she’d always had Bea. And Bea had managed to fill the shoes of so many people that Alayna had never felt adrift. What motivated a person who had no one standing behind them cheering? And without the voice of experience ringing in their ears, how did they remain grounded? Except for his obvious state of flux because of his injury, Luke appeared to be a man who had his life together. A man who knew what he wanted.

  Before she could change her mind, she blurted out, “I was thinking of whipping up a quick chicken fettuccine for dinner. Would you be interested in joining me?”

  He looked a little surprised at her invitation but quickly recovered. “There is no way I’m turning down an offer of a home-cooked meal prepared by a professional chef. Especially when my plan was opening a can of chili and dumping it over Fritos.”

  “I think I can do better, although I do love a good Frito pie.”

  “I’d like to shower first, though. Do I have time?”

  “Plenty. Let’s finish the margaritas and then I’ll start dinner. By the time you’re done with your shower, it will be close to ready.”

  “Perfect.”

  He lifted his glass and she clanked hers against it. Thirty minutes later, they’d polished off the last of the margaritas and he’d headed over the dune for his shower. Alayna brought the glasses and empty snack tray inside, got them situated in the dishwasher, and then grabbed the ingredients for the fettuccine. She seasoned the chicken and set it to cook before hurrying into the bathroom to check herself in the mirror.

  Her recently acquired sun had turned her skin a light pink that would probably brown nicely over the next couple days. Her hair was another story, though. The Gulf breeze and humidity had the slight wave that she always fought against paying her a visit. That meant shorter new growth whirled around her face without rhyme or reason, making it look as if she’d just spent the past hour jogging or digging a ditch.

  She ran a brush through it, then tried to pull it back into a ponytail, but the waves wouldn’t cooperate. Instead it looked even messier. Throwing her hands up in surrender, she elected to yank the ponytail holder out, then leaned over and fluffed it all up. The beach-blown look was the island norm, so it would have to do because there was no time for her to wash and style it. She headed back into the kitchen, shaking her head. Her hair shouldn’t matter. She wasn’t interested in pursuing anything beyond a friendship with Luke.

  Who do you think you’re fooling?

  She stopped short as the words echoed in her mind. What was she doing? Inviting him to drinks, then dinner? Every time she told herself that she couldn’t afford to get involved with Luke on any basis other than casually, she ended up spending more time with him. And now, she was worried about her appearance—something she hadn’t given much thought to in months.

  In a way, she supposed it was a good thing in that she was still capable of these kind of feelings. It showed she was healing. But on the other hand, her attraction to Luke had hit her without warning and also scared the hell out of her. She’d spent years focusing on her training, then on building her reputation as a chef, rarely dating, and when she did, only casually. Then she’d met Warren and had settled into something exclusive even though it hadn’t crossed the line into serious. And look how badly that had turned out.

  Epically bad.

  She went through the motions of preparing dinner as if on autopilot, and she supposed she was. Fettuccine was something she could do in her sleep. Maybe she should have chosen something more difficult. Something that required her to concentrate so that she didn’t spend all her time thinking about how much Luke Ryan pulled at her.

  A knock on the patio door broke her out of her thoughts and she looked over and waved Luke inside.

  “It’s almost ready,” she said. “I set everything up inside, if that’s okay? The breeze has died down and I’m afraid the flies will want to join us if we try to eat out back.”

  “If that tastes as good as it smells, I’ll eat it standing right here,” he said as he stepped into the kitchen.

  “You can bet it does, but the kitchen table is a sight better than standing. Plus, it has all that extra room to hold things like salad and garlic bread.”

  “You made garlic bread, too? This might be the best night I’ve spent on the island.”

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re kind of easy.”

  He grinned. “I can honestly say I’ve never had a woman tell me that before. But then, I’ve never had a woman cook me a meal fit for a king either.”

  “You might want to hold out on an opinion until you’ve tasted it. If you’ll open the wine, I’ll get this right out.”

  He removed the bottle from the ice bucket and opened it with the corkscrew on the counter. Alayna peeked in the oven and decided the garlic bread was perfect.

  “Can you pass me a pot holder?” she asked. “The drawer right in front of you.”

  He passed her a turquoise pot holder, and she pulled the garlic bread out of the oven and placed it on the stove, the smell already making her mouth water. When she looked over at Luke, he was holding a second pot holder, giving it a once-over.

  “This seems a bit out of place in a beach cottage in May,” he said.

  The pot holder was covered with white, red, green, and gold sequins that formed a Christmas tree and presents. There were a couple of bare spots where some of the sequins had come off and the edges showed definite signs of age.

  Alayna stared at it for a couple seconds, then realized she’d never responded. “It belonged to my mother. Every year on Christmas Eve, she pulled out her ‘magic’ pot holder and we made sugar cookies for Santa.”

  “Just Santa? Seems like a rip-off.”

  She smiled. “My dad had a fondness for them as well, which made a lot of sense once I figured out that whole Santa thing.”

  She took the pot holder from him and ran one finger down the worn sequins. “It was a special day and out of all the years I had with my parents, it’s the memory that’s always the most vivid. Sometimes I even dream about it.”

  “That’s an awesome thing to have,” he said quietly. “The pot holder and the memory.”

  “It is. And it’s gone with me everywhere—culinary school, New York, and now back to the island.”

  She handed it back to him and he looked down at it and smiled before putting it back in the drawer.

  “Are you ready to eat?” she asked.

  “You have to ask?”

  She plated the fettuccine as Luke poured the wine, and they carried the food to the tiny kitchen table. Luke ignored the salad completely and went straight for the fettuccine, stuffing an enormous bite into his mouth. She watched, waiting for the verdict. He closed his eyes and chewed, swallowed, then looked at her and sighed.

  “This is delicious,” he said. “The best I’ve ever had, and one of my Navy buddies is Italian and loves to cook. But don’t tell him I said that. He’s a sniper.”

  “Ha. Yeah, I’ll keep that to myself.”

  She looked across the table at him, unable to keep from smiling. Until that moment, she hadn’t realized just how important his opinion was. His words had bolstered her confidence in a way that Aunt Bea couldn’t. With all his traveling with the military, Luke had probably been able to sample cuisine from all over the world. The fact that he’d proclaimed her fettuccine the best he’d ever had was a real boost to her ego. And right now, her ego could use all the boosting it could get.

  “Seriously,” he said, “this is incredible. Bea told me you were a gifted
chef. I figured she loves you so she had to say that, but she wasn’t exaggerating. I can’t believe how quickly you put together something that tastes this good.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me. You earned the compliments. Now, pass me that garlic bread so I can proceed to make a pig out of myself.”

  She laughed and handed him the plate. Completely relaxed, she took a bite of salad and they proceeded to work through the food, the conversation light and easy topics like movies they’d seen and her recounting tales of her mischievous fox terrier that she’d had when she was a young child. When they were both stuffed, Luke insisted on helping her clear the kitchen.

  “It’s a rule,” he said. “If you do no work to prepare a great meal, you have to do the cleanup.”

  “I think that’s fair,” she said.

  They made quick work of the dishes and just as Alayna closed the dishwasher, a clap of thunder sounded overhead. She gave a bit of a start at the unexpected noise.

  “I didn’t think it was supposed to rain,” she said.

  “Let’s go take a look.”

  They headed onto the back patio and glanced up at the angry clouds overhead. The wind was already picking up, and she could see a line of rain off the coast.

  “Looks like a strong one,” Luke said.

  Alayna nodded. “Better check the weather report. I might need to turn over the patio furniture.”

  She went to the living room and turned on the TV to the news. If a big storm was brewing, the local weather station would break in with the details. Commercials were currently playing so they stood there waiting. Luke was so close that she could feel the heat coming off of him. A second boom sounded overhead, and a burst of lightning flashed through the window, causing the lights to blink. She turned to the side and shot a nervous glance out the patio doors.

  Luke looked down at her, his eyes searching hers. “I was hoping the night might end with fireworks, but this is a bit more than I imagined. And I know what you said yesterday about only being friends, but you’ve got to know that my attraction to you is more than just friendly.”

  Heat coursed through her body. She knew that look. Any woman of a certain age knew that look, and when it was wanted, it set every inch of skin to tingling. And Lord, was it wanted.

  He took a step closer to her, so that his chest was practically touching hers. “If you feel the same, just say the word.”

  “I…uh.” What the hell. She tilted her head up toward his and inched closer.

  He didn’t even hesitate before lowering his lips gently to hers. She leaned into him and he parted her lips with his, deepening the kiss. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tightly against him. She ran her hands up his back, his muscles rippling beneath her fingertips. He responded to her touch by dropping his lips to her neck, and she sighed with pleasure.

  “Breaking news out of New York.” The television cut into her thoughts. “Multimillionaire Warren Patterson III has escaped from FBI custody during a transfer. Three men are dead at the scene, one an FBI agent whose identity has not been released.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Blood rushed from Alayna’s head and the entire room tilted. Luke’s grip was the only thing that prevented her from crashing onto the floor.

  “Alayna!” Luke’s voice sounded like a distant echo. “Are you all right?”

  She felt him moving her across the living room floor and then he lowered her onto the couch and sat beside her.

  “Alayna?” He spoke again, his anxiety clear. “I’m going to call for the paramedics.”

  She shook her head. No paramedics. She just needed to breathe. One breath in. Another out. A breath in. Repeat slowly.

  Luke placed his hands on each side of her face and turned her head to face him. His eyes searched her, looking for an indication that she was all right.

  “You’re white as a sheet,” he said. “If you don’t say something, I’m going to call.”

  “Don’t,” she finally managed, although it came out as a whisper.

  “Stay here,” he said and headed into her kitchen.

  He returned quickly with a small glass of the whiskey she’d picked up because it was Bea’s favorite. He lifted the glass to her lips, and she took a sip, then clutched the glass and took another. Her hands shook as she lifted the glass and Luke placed his over hers to steady them. Finally, the room stopped spinning, but her mind was still whirling from what she’d heard.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean…I’m fine. I just need to go to bed.”

  Luke looked at her as if she were crazy. “No way I’m leaving. Look, I know about Patterson. I read it online.”

  Tears welled up, and she tried to choke them back but couldn’t. Mortified, she swiped her hand at the traitorous drops as they ran down her cheeks. She shouldn’t be surprised. After that run-in with Melody at the pizza place, Luke had probably googled her. She couldn’t blame him. Given the cryptic things Melody said, she would have done the same thing. But it didn’t lessen the humiliation.

  “I don’t want you involved in my mess,” she said. “Just go back to your house and forget you ever met me. You don’t need this.”

  “You don’t need it either. I already told you I wasn’t leaving. So you might as well get used to me sticking around. I’m not the kind of guy who takes off at the first sign of trouble. In fact, it’s the opposite. I run right toward it.”

  Her chest tightened and she struggled with the overwhelming desire to have him at her side while she tried to make sense of this and the right thing to do, which was turn him loose to go on with his life, unencumbered with her baggage.

  He must have sensed her issue because he enclosed her hand in his. “Look, I can either go to my house and sit there worrying all night, or I can stay here and help you deal with this. Either way, you’re going to be the only thing on my mind, but if you let me stay, at least I won’t feel useless.”

  “I don’t know what to say. How to thank you.”

  “I’m drawn to you, Alayna. I know we haven’t known each other for very long, but there’s something between us that goes further than just attraction. I don’t want your thanks. I want to help. To do what I’m trained to do. You need support right now. I know you have Bea, but take it from the guy who had no one for far too long, more is better.”

  So many emotions flooded through her that she couldn’t think. She wanted Luke there. Wanted his friendship and his support. Wanted his strong arms to prop her up if she buckled. But more than anything, she was filled with fear. What if Agent Davies had been wrong? What if Warren was coming for her?

  “Agent Davies,” she said. “I need to call him.”

  “Is that your contact with the FBI?”

  She nodded and glanced around the room, looking for her phone. Luke jumped up and snagged it off the kitchen counter, then handed it to her.

  Her hands shook as she listened to the phone ring and at first, she thought he wasn’t going to answer. Then a horrible thought coursed through her mind. What if Agent Davies was the agent who’d died at the scene? She was just about to disconnect when he answered, and she let out a breath of relief.

  “Agent Davies, thank God!” she said. “The news…they said an agent died.”

  “That’s correct. A young agent. Shouldn’t have happened.”

  She could hear the frustration and anger in his voice.

  “How did it happen? Did you catch Warren yet?”

  “We were intercepted during transport. We suspect the two other men killed at the scene worked for Rivera. Unfortunately, Warren is in the wind.”

  Another wave of dizziness passed over her as the very nightmare she’d been praying to avoid came crashing into her reality.

  “What do I do?” she asked.

  “Stay put,” Davies said. “Rivera didn’t break Warren out to do him any favors. You don’t have to worry about him coming after you.”

  “I see,” Alayna said, still no
t convinced.

  “Look. Everything with you remains the same,” Davies said, sounding frustrated. “I’ll contact you tomorrow, but right now the doctor is insisting I put down the phone so he can bandage my arm.”

  “Were you injured?”

  “Just a graze. I’ll be in touch tomorrow.”

  The call disconnected and Alayna stared at her phone for several seconds before lifting her gaze to Luke. She gave him the sparse information she’d gotten from Agent Davies.

  “He insisted Warren won’t come after me,” she said.

  “He’s probably right. I don’t think Rivera took this risk to reinstate Patterson as his investment adviser.”

  She nodded. She’d already known the implications as soon as Agent Davies told her Rivera was behind the escape. “They’re going to kill him so he can’t give the FBI evidence.”

  “That would be my guess.”

  “Then why didn’t they just do it there? It would have been easier and maybe none of Rivera’s men would have gotten killed.”

  “Because they’ll want to know what Patterson’s already told the FBI. See how big the cleanup needs to be.”

  “Oh.” She felt her back loosen a tiny bit. “That makes sense. I’m sorry. It’s just that this is the beginning of the recurring nightmare I’ve had since this whole thing started. Even though the FBI assured me that I’m of no concern to Warren, I’ve lived in constant fear that he would escape and come after me. I know, it’s not rational. I never knew anything about what Warren was doing and don’t have much to offer in the way of testimony. I’ve been told I’m in the clear by practically everyone in law enforcement and the DA’s office, but I can’t shake the feeling that something is still off.”

  “To hell with rational, the FBI, and the DA’s office. I’d be worried about you if you weren’t scared.”

  A small smile crept onto her face. “To hell with rational. I think that’s going to be my new motto.”