Stay With Me (11 page)

“Will do. I’m on my way to Mrs. Blake’s yoga class. They should be out in twenty minutes.”

“No downward dog jokes right now, Drew. I’m not in the mood.”

He laughed. “Poor baby. Call me if you need me.”

“You know I will.”

I made three more calls while I sat in the stuffy cab of my truck waiting on AAA. Two were return calls and a message for Jordan cancelling our two o’clock. By the time I’d cleaned up my cab and locked all my valuables in my silver cargo box, I was calmer. I heard a smooth engine pull up behind me and honk. Miserable cur.

I didn’t look up until the car honked again, and I swallowed the curse working its way out of my mouth. “Go arou—”

The hot sun reflected off the silver car’s gleaming paint, slick and shimmery, and I had to shade my eyes briefly before I could see the driver. Even though I fixed my face in a frown, waiting for his approach, I couldn’t deny my heart gave an eager thump. He looked, quite simply put, delicious—his black and charcoal gray argyle shirt a perfect complement to flawlessly tailored black slacks. He looked like he’d just left court—probably had—and come straight to help me out.

I gave him the universal greeting of gratitude. “What are you doing here?”

Jordan gave me a look that said I wasn’t too bright. “I figured, despite your pointed,
numerous
protests on my voice mail, that you might need a ride.”

All right, so I had a hard time asking for help. So what?

“I’m getting it towed. No big.”

The look remained. “You don’t have a spare?”

“If I had a spare, would I be….” I took a deep, cleansing breath. “No.”

He didn’t say a word about how irresponsible that was. And he didn’t know the half of it. I didn’t even have my jack. I wasn’t about to volunteer that little bit of information. Not that he appeared to be waiting for my excuses. He had already squatted down by the tire, and was currently flicking a finger across the flayed tread.

I let the heavy cargo lid fall and joined him in the front. “You know something about tires?”

“No.” He smiled, and I was briefly entranced by his movie-star teeth. “But I can lean in and stare with the best of ’em.”

A startled laugh burst free, and I swiped a hand over my face. Embarrassed.

“You want me to wait with you?” he asked, raking back hair that fell forward over his mirrored aviators.

 I shrugged. “Up to you.”

“Oh my. That didn’t sound like a thank you at all.”

His sarcasm made me laugh, and I groaned, scrubbing a hand down my face. “Sorry. It’s been one hell of a day.”

“Tell me,” he said simply, and boy was I tempted.

I was tempted to tell him how much today had sucked and how much I wanted to smoke. How I was messing up at work and falling for this totally inappropriate guy that smelled like sunshine and looked like sin.

I shook my head. “It’s getting better now.” And that was part of the problem.

It should have been miserable waiting there, especially when AAA trumped their own record for lateness. In truth, it seemed like no time at all. I was almost annoyed when the tow truck finally arrived. Glad when I found out the nearest auto store was within my free tow miles. Jazzed when Jordan offered to give me a ride. The proper thing to do would have been to turn him down, and thank him graciously for the offer. Which didn’t explain how we wound up cooling our heels in the auto store waiting room, waiting for my tire change. I also requested an alignment and rotation. Because I needed one. I swear. Not because it would give me extra time to hang out with Jordan. Hell, if they needed to take the entire truck apart, they should go right ahead.

“If you’re late for something, you don’t have to wait,” I finally
said.

“Nah,” he said, “I finished my hearing this morning. I have a teleconference at four, but that’s about it. Hearing was supposed to take all day and maybe tomorrow, but we settled before 10:00 a.m. Almost got everything we asked for, which was more than I expected. And I don’t have to write a brief, which my client doesn’t care about but is a huge time saver for me.”

“Sounds like you really enjoy your job.”

“Don’t you?”

“It has its moments.” Like this. “There are moments when I miss being on the force.”

“I’d think it has some of the same elements.”

“Not really. We rarely work with governmental agencies.”

The last time I had, Robert had volunteered my services for a witness gone underground, like I was some glorified
Dog the Bounty Hunter
. I can still picture one of Robby’s cop buddies giving me a slightly patronizing look.
I’m glad you’ve found something to do
, he’d said. As if when you hand in your badge, you’re supposed to do the world a favor, shrivel up and die.

“You must get some interesting work.”

“We do. Child custody. Alimony. Marital property disputes. Surveillance. Skip traces. It’s a lot less glamorous than people think.”

“No disguises? Funny hats and noses?”

“I actually do have disguises,” I admitted. “A bag of them in my truck. Just uniforms and props, really. Drew says I just have a flare for the dramatic, but I think they’re necessary.”

He laughed. “Maybe a little of both.”

“Maybe.”

“Here. This will help your headache.” His arm was propped up on the chair close to mine, and I almost had a girly swooning moment when his hand dropped down to my neck.

“How’d you know?” I managed.

“Your eyes were all squinty. And you had major attitude. Even for you,” he teased, and I growled.

I wasn’t sure if he was aware that his arm was pretty much across the back of my chair now. The guy sitting a few chairs down managed to shoot us a dirty look before going back to his magazine. I was unmoved. He could wave a rebel flag and threaten to burn my truck, but if he interrupted Jordan playing with my hair and digging strong thumbs into my neck, I’d pull out my Sig Sauer and neutralize him.

As if he’d realized what he was doing, suddenly the massage stopped. I growled. “Jordan, what’s your damage?”

His gaze dropped to the floor, and a blush crept across his cheeks. “I don’t know,” he managed.

“Ugh.” I wanted to scream. I wanted to yell. I wanted to make him admit he was feeling some of the same things I was. “Well, don’t come near me until you’ve figured it out. I’ve already been there, done that.”

“Mackenzie….” His phone went off, superloud in my sensitive ears, and suddenly my headache was back full force. I moved one chair over and snapped open a three-month-old
National Geographic
. I could feel the heat of his gaze on my neck, and it took all I had in me to remain still.

“Hello,” he finally snapped into the phone.

“Jordie!” I could hear Rachel even one chair over. “Where
are
you? We’ve been waiting an hour. We’re going to be late for the meeting. Greeves and Wales both want an explanation for the settlement this morning.”

“Rache, I’m kind of busy,” he murmured into the phone, trying to be discreet.

As she began going on about the traffic on the highway and why he had to leave
right now
, I moseyed on over to the soda machine. The neon Coke sign made my eyeballs shrink in my head a little more, and I hoped caffeine would help. It didn’t appear that I’d be getting any more of Jordan’s massages. I stuck in a dollar, and the thing ate it whole.

“Damn it,” I groused. I barely refrained from giving it a swift kick.

“Here.” An arm went by my nose and stuffed some quarters in the slot. “Which one?”

“Diet Coke,” I said. “But I can push the buttons all by myself, Pa.”
Wow, you are feeling bitchy.

The smiling mechanic—Joey, according to his name patch—didn’t seem to mind as he tossed me the cola. “On me.”

“Least you can do,” I said archly. “Your tires cost an arm and a leg.”

He grinned, and I smiled back. See? This was easy. The way it was supposed to be. Good to know my flirting was back on track with everyone except Jordan.

“If you follow me, I can show you how to change your own tire.”

“I’m sure Mac knows how to change a tire,” Jordan said, somewhere close by, and I jumped. I hadn’t heard him get off the phone. He rolled his eyes at the guy’s blatant come-on.

I did know how to change a tire. But wasn’t this part of being healthy? Moving on to someone
available
, who might actually be a good match for me? The old me would have agreed with Jordan, flirted with him a little more, maybe even guilted him into another neck massage. My eyebrows slashed down. If Jordan wanted to play, he was going to have to adjust his antennae. I wasn’t into mixed signals.

“I’d love to learn,” I announced.

“Come on back through here when you’re ready,” Joey said, giving me one last flippant grin before disappearing through a scarred gray door.

“You shouldn’t wait,” I said into the uncomfortable silence.

He looked at me, those blue eyes narrowed and still oh so pretty. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” he said lightly, but there was anger there too.

I decided to get him back for yo-yoing me around. “Oh, I plan to do a lot of things you wouldn’t do.”

I gave him a wave before starting through the door.

“Mackenzie.”

I turned back briefly. God, if he just said the word, I would— “Yeah?”

He looked as if he might say something else, and then he sighed. “If you need a ride home, I want you to call.”

My eyes held his for a moment too long, a moment I could only describe as strange. “Why?”

“Can’t have my PI walking home in the dark,” he said lightly.

I couldn’t resist one last dig. “Thanks… Jordie.”

He gave me a look that promised retribution.

What frustrated me the most was that no matter what I did that day with Joey, not the hand brushing as he “showed” me how to do it correctly, not the subtle sniffing my neck and hair as he stood behind me and I pretended to pay attention, not even the unsubtle grinding of his dick against my behind until I told him to back off… nothing matched that single look. Nothing. I had to admit the truth of it to myself. Whatever else was going on, I was clearly looking for more than a casual fuck.
Fuck
, my subconscious swore.

I nodded grimly. My thoughts exactly.

I
F
ANYONE
had told me I’d miss sweating through my clothes in Drew’s car, I’d have called him a crazy loon. And yet here I was, baking in the relentless sun, patrolling a rectangular yard that had looked a lot smaller twenty minutes ago. My hat had a handy camera built neatly into the front visor, and I was free to push the ancient mower across stubborn grass.

Thanks to a group of mischievous young fools decorating the
neighborhood yards with toilet paper (kids still did that?),
neighborhood watch had been hypervigilant lately. And if you think cops are bad, you haven’t seen a little old lady with a reflective vest and a flashlight the size of her own head. I’d been chased off by an octogenarian twice in the past week, so sitting in a random car was a nonstarter. My new ruse, if I did say so myself, was brilliant. On its surface. In reality, being hired as Mrs. Blake’s next door neighbor’s lawn man sucked
big
dick. Pro? I was able to get as close to the neighboring property line as I dared. I could
finally
catch an uninterrupted view of Blake’s backyard. Con? I had to actually cut the fucking grass.

“Hey, stranger.”

I cut the motor, choking and gasping as a cloud of dust and grass puttered out of the side of the machine and created nasty confetti. I glared at Drew, standing neat and stylish in Dockers and a white button-down shirt. He had the leash to a small, barking Pomeranian in one hand and an ice cream cone in the other. An actual ice cream cone.

“Are you just going to eat that in front of me?”

“Well, I would offer you a lick, but we’re being watched right now.”

I growled.

“Edith Brantworth, two doors down.” He jerked his head in her direction. “She ran you off on Monday.”

“Don’t remind me. Isn’t there an episode of
Price is Right
on?”

“Old folks don’t watch that anymore. Not since Bob Barker left.”

“How would you know?” I ran a hand through my sweaty hair, wishing I’d remembered a bandana.

He leaned down and gave the yappy dog a piece of waffle cone. “I know things.”

“Where’d the dog come from?”

“Borrowed, my dear. Only borrowed. As long as I have her back in one piece by five, my sister will have no reason to end my life.”

I gave the mower a slight kick. “Drew, if this doesn’t make up for missing those meetings with the crotchety sisters, I don’t know what does.”

“I have to admit, this takes dedication. Nice touch with the truck, by the way. Nice and dusty, wooden crate on the back, couple dents in the side? Just like a lawn truck.”

I scowled. “I didn’t do anything to my truck.”

He looked at me for a minute, slightly nonplussed. Then smiled brightly. “So, what’s the plan?”

I had half a mind to swat his waffle cone right to the ground, but I had a feeling Edith Brantworth would have the cops here in five minutes flat. “I’m going to cut like a maniac and then lurk in his backyard. He has these incredible willows that are going to allow me to play ‘I spy’ for as long as I want.”

“Good plan.”

“We’ll finally be able to figure out what the hell she’s doing in the backyard so long every day.”

“Smart money’s on gardening.”

“Well, today we’ll know for sure.” I ran a hand through my damp hair to push it back from my face and jammed a cap over it. “Now beat it. I have work to do.”

Drew took himself and his yappy dog off with a wave, and I yanked the crank on the lawnmower viciously. With the help of some high octane tunes in my Skullcandy headphones, I was able to demolish the front yard in a half hour flat. Stopping briefly to shed my shirt and toss it on a porch railing, I looked back at the long neat rows with something akin to satisfaction. It actually looked pretty great. If I ever got tired of PI work… a fresh wave of heat prickled my back, and I shook my head. No, never. I’d bag groceries instead.