Give Him the Slip (24 page)

She glanced out the bathroom window toward the padded loveseat
lounger beside the pool that Luke had commandeered as his bed. He lay sprawled
on his stomach, wearing only a pair of boxers.
Liar.

With her gaze lingering on his butt, warm, tingling need pooled
low in her belly.

"This is stupid," she muttered, dragging her attention
away from outside. Now that she could move again, she needed to move her way on
down to Home for Now's office. Time to get back to reality. She wanted work,
peace, and routine. She needed normality. Riding shotgun with a badass former
DEA agent was not exactly normal.

Maddie bent over the bathtub and twisted the hot-water spigot. As
water flowed, her thoughts turned to work and to Sandy Crawford. Sandy had been
a lifesaver for her since this mess started, stepping in to do the office work
while Maddie was away, but when she stopped by yesterday to go over the month's
billing, Sandy had confessed how much she missed working with clients.

A new empty nester who needed an outlet to continue her mothering,
Sandy was Home for Now's most requested representative and thus one of the
business's greatest assets. Maddie wanted to keep her happy.

She also wanted to get back to work herself. Maddie missed her
clients, too. She was curious to see whether the new medication was helping
Mrs. Foley's memory. She fretted that Sam Perkins wasn't doing his exercises
like he should. She feared that Harriet Quinn would go ahead and clean out that
storage closet without Maddie's supervision and throw away family treasures
that her children would want.

Steam rose from the filling tub, and Maddie added cold water to
the bath, her mind busily making plans for the day. She needed to talk to Luke
and see whether he'd learned anything new last night about Jerry Grevas's
associates. She didn't want to act stupidly, but she couldn't put her life on
hold forever. She wanted to go to the office this morning.

Surely by now Luke had a sense of whether or not it was safe for
her to resume her normal life. He'd certainly been putting a lot of time and
energy into discovering the answer, spending night after night in Brazos Bend
pool halls and clubs. Chatting people up. Charming them. And, according to
Sara-Beth during yesterday's visit, slow dancing and snuggling with
short-skirted sluts.

Maddie dumped half a jar of bath salts in the water, then scowled
out the window at the sleeping stud. He'd claim it was all in the name of the
job. She'd heard that one before. Men.

Maddie reached for a loofah. Would Luke deny enjoying that part of
the job? She'd heard that one before, too.

Annoyed, she abruptly turned off the water. Her gaze ventured
poolside once again. How far did he take his research? Did he bring someone
home with him? Was he out there alone? She couldn't see the whole pool area
from this viewpoint.

Maybe she should check.

Maddie plunged her hand into the bath and opened the drain. As
water gurgled down the pipes, she strode back into the bedroom and yanked open
the dresser drawer. She fished among the lingerie for two scraps of emerald
green. They matched her bruises, after all.

Maddie didn't ask herself why she didn't bother with a swimsuit
cover-up. She didn't admit her plans might be influenced by the fact that this
was Branch's morning to have breakfast with his cronies at P-3, so he wasn't
around to see her. She refused to question why she felt the need to confront
Luke Callahan in this manner, at this time. In fact, Maddie didn't think at
all. She was running on feelings at the moment. Feelings that had festered
since she'd been sprawled on the floor of the
Miss Behavin' II
staring
up at a pair of pistols.

Luke didn't want to wake up. The sun warming his skin and the
light seeping through his eyelids, shut tight and buried in the cushion's
pillow, told him daylight had arrived some time ago. Nevertheless, he did his
best to ignore it. He needed more than three hours bag time on a damned pool
lounger.

Funny how quickly a man could get accustomed to peace and quiet
and regular hours. And a regular bed. For years now, late nights and smoky bars
and heavy perfume had been his norm. He'd learned to function on too little
sleep and to sleep wherever he could rest his head. But a few months of healthy
living made this slide back into the fast lane less than comfortable.

He missed his king-sized mattress.

He missed waking up ready to meet the day instead of wishing he
could shoot the bulb out on the sun.

I'm too old for this shit.

At least he was pretty much done with the Brazos Bend bar scene.
After spending the better part of a week connecting with dealers, dopers, and
dumb-asses, he was ninety-nine point nine percent certain that Jerry Grevas's
connections had nothing to do with the local drug trade and everything to do
with owing money to a certain
familia
out of the Northeast.

He figured tonight he'd do what he could to confirm that piece of
information. After that, he'd... well... he'd figure that out tomorrow.

The goddamned mob. Strung-out meth dealers were bad enough, but
when the big dogs from back East played hardball, they played to win. Yeah, he
needed to find out exactly whether those were the folks Jerry Grevas was dumb
enough to run up a tab with.

He sighed, not really wanting to think about that, but in his gut,
he recognized that this situation could get real ugly, real fast. If the mob
had Maddie in its sights... Luke shook his head. He'd have to call in the
alphabet suits. He hated dealing with the suits.

Hell. He wasn't going to think about the suits. He was going to
think about tomorrow.

Tomorrow.

Buried against the chair cushion, his lips spread in a slow smile.

The sound of heels clacking against the pavement had him wincing.
Wait. He didn't bring anyone back here. Had one of those bimbos from the party
out at the lake last night followed him home?

Jesus. When had country girls become man-eaters?

He rolled over and up onto his elbows, then pried open his eyes,
ready to tell the female predator to get the hell out of here. But instead of a
bleached-blond pool-crashing bimbo, he got an eyeful of the fiery-haired
goddess Maddie Kincaid.

Luke damn near swallowed his tongue.

She wore his bikini and her take-me-baby heels. She walked toward
him with her chin high, her shoulders back, and a strut to her step. Luke had
to think to breathe.

She stopped just beyond his reach. "Good morning."

"G-g-g." He stopped, cleared his throat. "Good
morning."

She glanced casually around. "It's quiet out here.
Peaceful."

"You're out of bed."

"Observant guy, Callahan."

Oh, he was observant. He observed those hot pink toenails, the
slender ankles. Legs that went up and up and up. That triangle of
concealing-yet-revealing cloth—God bless Lycra. A navel that cried out to be
tasted. Long waist. The swell of her breasts, the emerald-draped points of her
nipples.

Good Lord.

Her long, graceful neck. The full mouth.

His watered.

Her supermodel cheekbones, dark honey eyes, and that hair. That
glorious sunburst of color.

"You should be in bed."
I
should be with you.

"I'm feeling better."

Luke had a fever.

"I thought I'd take a swim."

She wanted to get wet. Oh, yeah. Wet and slick. Hot and soft.

"The exercise will be good for me; it'll give my muscles a
good stretch."

He could name some muscles he'd be happy to stretch for her.

She kicked off one shoe. Then the other. Luke took it like a lick
to the balls.

Then she turned away from him, faced the pool. The thong.
Holy
Moses.
Her tattoo!
Lord, save me.

Maddie dove into the pool. Luke broke out in a sweat. His dick was
hard enough and long enough to hang a net on it and use it for a skimmer.

He was out of his seat and a step away from jumping in after her
when his cooler head prevailed over his hot one and he stopped. She'd had a
glint in her eyes, a tight expression as she dove into the water. "She's
pissed about something," he murmured.

What the hell brought this on? Why was she angry? He hadn't done a
damn thing but bust his ass to figure out who might be after hers. How did he
get to be the bad guy?

He watched her graceful strokes as she propelled herself through
the water. He'd told her he'd check in when he came home last night, but at
four a.m., he'd decided not to do it. Maybe she'd been worried about him.

She made a racing turn at the far end of the pool, giving him
another peak at her thong, and he sucked air past his teeth as he realized he
wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea that she might have waited for him,
worried about him. That suggested a relationship, and that was only one step
away from commitment. He'd banished that word from his vocabulary long ago.

A taunting voice emerged from the recesses of his brain.
Might
not be such a bad thing having a swimmer like that waiting for you every night.

He blinked and shook his head to banish that insanity as quickly
as it came. Luke Callahan might be a lot of things, but he wasn't a fool.
Forever was for other people.

Right now, however, was something else entirely.

At the far end of the pool, the shallow end, she interrupted her
swim. When she stood, the water hit her just above the waist. She lifted both
hands to her hair and finger-combed it out of her face, her breasts lifting in
luscious display during the process. The tease. The delectable, ornery tease.
If she's going to play with fire...

He'd burn her, all right.

He'd have her. He'd have her soon and often, but not here and now.
Not at Branch Callahan's house. No matter how much she tempted him or how badly
he hurt. He could control himself.

Thank goodness the pool wasn't heated this time of year.

Luke jumped into the deep end. When his head broke the surface, he
halfway expected to see steam rising from the water around him. Wouldn't
surprise him too much if the water started boiling.

But at least he'd cooled off.

When Maddie resumed her laps, Luke made a beeline for the swim
ladder. No sense being stupid about it. If he touched her now...

Well, he wasn't a fool, but he was human. There was only so much
thong a man could take without breaking.

Luke waited until she swam three more laps, then, believing
himself under marginal control, he stood beside the pool. When she went to make
her turn, he reached down and grabbed her arm. "Maddie?"

She surfaced, flung her hair out of her face, splashing him in the
process. "What is it?"

"Seven o'clock tonight. Italian food. Pack an overnight
bag."

"What? Why?"

Fratelli's was located in a strip shopping center along Pecan
Street, one of the main thoroughfares in town. The decor was Italian kitsch—too
tacky for most places, just perfect for Brazos Bend. Hand-painted murals of the
Roman Coliseum, the Leaning Tower of Pisa, and Tuscan vineyards decorated the
walls. Plastic grapes hung from wooden arbors throughout the room. Bottles of
olive oil sat on shelves next to photographs of Fratelli family members at the
original restaurant in Jersey. And, because this was, after all, Texas,
televisions hung within eyesight of sixty percent of the seats. On Saturdays in
the fall, diners enjoyed their pasta with Big Twelve football. Sundays belonged
to the Dallas Cowboys.

"Fratelli's opened when I was in grade school," Luke
told Maddie as they walked toward his sports car, parked at the curb in front
of his father's house. Five minutes earlier, he'd knocked on her bedroom door
and asked whether she was ready for dinner. That, thank goodness, was a
question she could answer. She was hungry, and while she'd delivered a client
to a party at Fratelli's once, she'd yet to dine there. She'd heard their food
was delicious.

Had he asked whether she were ready, period, she'd be less
confident of her answer. She couldn't explain what had come over her this
morning, playing the tease the way she had. She couldn't explain what she'd
been feeling ever since.

She didn't know what she'd do when tomorrow arrived tonight.

The look Luke gave her when she opened the door wearing the new
little black dress she'd picked up in New York had been hot enough to melt
asphalt. Yet, his touch had been gentlemanly, his comments flattering, but not
over the top.

And he'd looked so fine himself, dressed in his Italian designer
suit.

"That was long before the big chain restaurants came to town
and made it harder for an independent to survive," Luke continued. "I
think it's a shame how America is becoming so homogenized. You see the same big
box stores, same restaurant chains, in every town you visit. We've lost
something along the way."