Beef Stolen-Off (17 page)

And right now, she was leaning toward a guilty verdict.

She decided Diego could have messed with the coffee as well, and she set her cup on the end table, untouched. When she and Maria were finally alone again, Jordan stood and
walked to the fireplace. She’d forgotten to wear a sweater, and the heat felt good as she leaned in to warm her hands.

Glancing up at the rows of pictures on the mantle, she wasn’t surprised most of them were of Maria and Diego with Rusty at various stages of his life. He’d been a handsome kid even in his awkward years and must’ve had the girls lined up as far back as elementary school.

“Rusty was a good-looking man,” Jordan commented, reaching for the photo at the end. It was a picture of a very young Diego and Maria standing on the front porch with a young woman between them. It left no doubt where Rusty had gotten his good looks.

Maria had been so beautiful when she was younger. But as attractive as she was, the woman standing beside her was even more striking, resembling Eva Longoria. As Jordan turned to comment, Maria pulled out a butter knife from under the blanket and began to pound frantically on the arm of her wheelchair.

Shocked, Jordan watched as Diego ran in and rushed to his wife’s side.

“What did you say to her?” he demanded, accusation lacing his tone.

“Nothing,” Jordan said, shaking her head. “I only commented on how handsome Rusty had been.”

Diego bent down and enveloped Maria in his arms, holding her until the pounding stopped. “I think you’d better go now, Ms. McAllister,” he said, avoiding eye contact.

“I’m sorry if I upset her.”

Diego released Maria and pointed to the end picture. “Did you ask about Gia?”

Again, Jordan shook her head.

He exhaled slowly, standing up straight but remaining close to Maria. “It was right nice of you to come all the way
out here to bring her flowers, but now it’s time for her to lie down and rest. Can you find your way to the door?”

Jordan nodded, grabbing her purse from the sofa and walking over to Maria. Just as she bent down to pat her hand and say good-bye, the woman raised her head up and mouthed,
Rusty
.

Jordan softened, understanding that Maria was still grieving. “I know. If you’ll let me, I’ll come back out and sit with you sometime.”

Maria stared for several seconds before releasing Jordan’s hand, almost in a defeated kind of way. Jordan thanked Diego on the way to the door and practically ran to her car.

That was weird!
She remembered how Maria went berserk when she was looking at the pictures. And Jordan still hadn’t discovered if Diego was the cause of her stroke.

On the drive back to her apartment, she decided no matter how uncomfortable visiting Maria had made her feel, she had to help the woman. For now, she’d go home and regroup.

But she would be back!

The one scene playing over and over again in her head was Maria banging on the wheelchair. Was it frustration because she couldn’t speak? Or was it something else, something more critical?

Regardless, Jordan was determined to find out what had Maria so scared, and why she kept a butter knife hidden under her lap blanket.

Jordan parked the car and slowly walked to her apartment, hoping Danny was back so they could hurry out to DiNardo’s for dinner. Her stomach was already growling like a dog with a treed squirrel. Although she’d made a pig of herself on Bella’s Baked Steak and Gravy, that had been hours ago. She was looking forward to a gigantic serving of spaghetti and meatballs with a salad and garlic bread. The last time they were there, she’d had enough leftover food for lunch the next two days, which was always a plus with her budget.

Even though Danny was splitting the cost of groceries, money was still tight. Her brother was turning out to be a bad influence, cooking even less than she did and coaxing her into eating out on a nightly basis. Unfortunately, while he was good at sharing Pop-Tarts for breakfast, he drew the line at bologna sandwiches for dinner. She’d experimented
one night with a simple chicken recipe she’d printed in her column and ended up throwing the entire dish down the disposal. Danny still teased her about it.

There was only so much humiliation a girl could take.

The good thing was that she never had to worry about eating on paper plates or drinking from her matched set of plastic cups from the Pizza Palace when Danny was around. He didn’t care what the dishes looked like as long as there was food on them.

She opened the door, glad to find it unlocked, which meant Danny was already home. She hoped he’d worked out the details with the rest of the gang, and they could be on their way to the restaurant soon. She was exhausted and looking forward to an early bedtime. On top of it all, her editor had called before she’d left work Friday, wanting to see her in his office first thing Monday morning.

That always meant he wanted something—which always meant she wouldn’t like it. But she couldn’t complain too much. So far, the job had been fun and seemed to have gotten easier. Or maybe it was just the fact she worried less about everyone in Ranchero finding out she was clueless when it came to cooking.

The readers had to have figured out by now that she was merely posting casserole dishes with fancy names, but they still kept begging for more. Egan had even mentioned he was thinking about having the Kitchen Kupboard run three times a week instead of two. Maybe that was what he wanted to talk about in the morning.

Danny wasn’t around when she walked into the living room, but she could hear the shower running. Since his teenage years, he’d been known for his hour-long showers. And the guy would take ten of them a day if he could.
Although the thought of hot water running over her body was particularly appealing at the moment, she was far too exhausted to even think about a quick shower.

How dirty could you get sitting around all day? Besides, every time they went to DiNardo’s, she came home with the pungent smell of garlic in her hair.

She flopped down on the couch, resting her feet on the coffee table and thinking if she weren’t so hungry, she’d fall asleep right there. Closing her eyes, she leaned her head back to enjoy a few minutes before Danny emerged from the bathroom.

When the doorbell rang, she silently cursed having the only serene moment of her day interrupted.

Crap!

People irritated the tar out of her sometimes. It had to be someone either selling something or trying to save her from the fires of hell. Her friends usually didn’t knock, never mind ring the bell.

Springing up from the couch, she blew a strand of hair out of her eyes, intent on giving whoever it was a lecture about getting their eyes checked. The sign on the front door clearly said N
O
S
OLICITING
.

When she threw the door open, she got the surprise of her life as she stared into the most dazzling blue eyes she’d ever seen—well, since the last time she’d seen them.

It had been a few months, but he was exactly as Jordan remembered. Six feet tall, wearing jeans and a U
NIVERSITY OF
T
EXAS
E
L
P
ASO
sweatshirt, Alex Moreland made her heart race. His dark blond hair with golden highlights set off his Paul Newman eyes, causing her thoughts to take a sharp turn from PG into dangerously R-rated territory.

“Hello, Jordan. Did you miss me?”

Before she could lift her jaw from the floor and think of a snappy comeback, her dorky brother chose that moment to come out of the shower wearing only a towel around his waist.

“And who’s this?” Danny asked, pointing to the new arrival.

“Alex Moreland,” she stammered.

She watched the surprise in Alex’s eyes turn to anger.

“I see you’ve moved on, Jordan. I guess I can’t blame you.” He turned to leave.

Grabbing him by the arm, she swung him around, standing up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

He looked down at her, confusion clouding his eyes.

“Alex, this is my brother, Danny.”

The relieved expression covering his face made Jordan want to grab him for another kiss. The man was clearly jealous. A small part of her was delighted at his reaction.

Okay, a
big
part of her.

“This is your brother?”

She nodded. “He’s staying with me for a few weeks.”

Danny crossed the room and extended his hand. “You must be the FBI guy my sister has been hiding from me.”

“Danny!” She glared. “How did you know about him?”

“I have to protect my sources since you don’t tell me squat.”

“Your sources, my butt. Victor couldn’t keep a secret if you wired his mouth shut.” She inched closer to Alex, catching a drift of his aftershave, which somehow made her forget any earlier hunger pangs. “So what are you doing here, Alex?”

“I got a call yesterday from Sheriff Delaney down at the police station. Cattle rustling has become a real problem in this area lately, and he’s—”

“What?” Danny moved so quickly toward Alex that he almost lost his towel.

Jordan didn’t have to look at her brother to know his face was probably skewed with a mix of anger and disbelief. And she was not about to glance in his direction for fear she would be scarred for life if there was a sudden wardrobe malfunction.

She led Alex to the couch where they both sat down; Danny settled in the chair directly across from them.

“Why would Sheriff Delaney call the Feds?” Danny asked.

“Apparently the crime is escalating and has now crossed over into interstate fraud. Since we worked together on a case a few months ago, he requested the Bureau send me.” He moved his hand behind Jordan’s head and caressed the nape of her neck. “But that’s only part of the reason I’m here. An old friend is working a nonrelated case for the department and asked if I could help out.”

“I thought you were deep undercover. The last time we talked, you said you and your partner were finally making contacts. So how is it your boss let you come all the way back here to help with a small-town case?”

Not that she really cared why he was here. Just sitting next to him on the sofa again with his thigh touching hers, she felt a jolt of electricity through her entire body.

Alex tipped her chin and touched his lips to hers, sending goose bumps rippling down her arms. “First of all, if the thieves are crossing state lines with stolen cattle, it’s no longer a small-town problem. I’m supposed to meet with the guy TSCRA sent here. I’ll know more after I talk to him.”

“Why wait?” Danny leaned forward and held out his hand. “Danny McAllister, field marshal for TSCRA.”

Alex stopped the march of his fingers up and down the inner part of Jordan’s arm and stared. He reached over and shook Danny’s hand. “That’s the case you’re working on?”

“Yep. And I have to tell you, I’m more than a little pissed off that they’d call in the cavalry when I haven’t even had a chance to really get into the investigation.” He stared back defiantly.

“Trust me, this is your show, Danny. I promised Delaney I would look over the police reports. That’s all. I’m really here to help with the other case.”

Being this close to Alex was maddening. All she wanted to do was to lock him in her room and never let him out. She took a few deep breaths before she trusted her voice. “I still don’t get it. How could they pull you away from your undercover gig when the last time we spoke you said the bad guys were finally beginning to trust you?” She leaned away from him, narrowing her eyes. “That was over two weeks ago, by the way.”

His gaze dropped from her face, to her shoulders, and settled on her chest for a few seconds before he met her eyes again. “I forgot how feisty redheads can be or how quickly it can drive me to drink.” He ruffled her hair. “The logistics of getting me away for a few days was a problem, since we were pretty sure the drug lord had Rocco and me under surveillance and even had our phones tapped. I couldn’t use the government-issued one, because I’m sure Uncle Sam was listening there, too.”

“So how did you get away?” Danny repeated, obviously still nursing a touch of anger.

“Since we knew they were watching, we staged a bar fight where the police intervened and took me and my sparring partner, another undercover cop, to jail. I’ve got three days in Ranchero. Then I have to head back, since
that’s all the time we can milk out of the arrest.” He turned and nailed Jordan with a let’s-not-waste-one-more-minute-with-small-talk stare.

For once, she thoroughly agreed with him. “Where are you staying?”

“My old place was vacant, and the landlady agreed to let me crash there for a few days. It cost the Bureau a little more than a hotel, but they felt I had less of a chance of being recognized there.” He melted her with a sexy look. “If memory serves, I still owe you a pan of lasagna.”

“That’s right, Moreland. After you bragged about how you had these mean cooking skills that you learned from your Italian mother, you skipped town before I had a chance to find out if you were just blowing smoke up my skirt.” She had forgotten how much fun it was to trade barbs with him.