Dangerous Disguise (8 page)

“Not after you rescued me. In some cultures, my soul would be forever yours.” An almost irresistible smile curved his mouth. “Tell you what, we’ll compromise. How does Boss Lady sound?”

She laughed shortly. “Like a horse you’d be betting on in the third race at Santa Anita.”

He picked up on the metaphor and extrapolated just a little. “Is it a sure thing?” He knew he wanted it to be. Somehow, somewhere, someday, they were going to be together, he promised himself. He needed it to be true in order to continue.

Her eyes held his for a long moment. “Nothing’s a sure thing.”

But this was, he promised himself. She just didn’t know it yet. “That’s all right—” he leaned in closer to her “—I like taking risks.”

His mouth was inches from hers.

Her heart had scrambled up into her throat. Any second now, she was going to give in. To him and to herself.

She couldn’t allow that to happen. She’d let him kiss her on the beach because she’d been vulnerable. It had been Melissa’s birthday and she had been fighting an ache in her soul. But there was no excuse to hide behind tonight. Kissing him tonight would be an admission that she knowingly wanted this. Wanted him.

With effort, she got to her feet, creating space between them. “Well, I don’t like taking risks.”

The look in his eyes told her he knew better. Jared got up from the table, as well. “Can’t grow if you don’t risk.”

“I take enough risks when I’m at work.” She meant in hiring him, in attempting new things, in expanding the restaurant. There were no personal risks because those hurt too much.

Jared pretended to look around the kitchen. “This is where you work.” The implication was clear. He was egging her on to take a real risk, one that involved something beyond the restaurant.

“Jared—” There was a warning note in her voice.

Jared lifted both hands up in surrender. “Backing off,” he told her.

For now,
he added silently. But he had a feeling that the longer he was here, the harder time he would have backing off.

Though the image definitely did not jibe with the one he normally had of himself, he felt like an iron filing struggling against a giant magnet. But the closer the magnet came, the harder it was to keep from pressing against it.

Once he drained the last of his coffee, he set the cup down again. It was time to get the conversation onto neutral ground before he succeeded in scaring her away. “You really should have that lock fixed.”

“Yes. Especially since I broke it getting you out,” she said.

Because he was still attempting to entrench himself at Rainbow’s End, he made her an offer. “If you like, I can take a look at it.”

“You fix locks?” she asked, surprised.

Actually he picked them. He knew how to get into almost any locked area, provided that the security code wasn’t overly elaborate. When it came to tumblers and the like, he’d known his way around those ever since he was fourteen. Reversing the process couldn’t be too difficult, he judged.

“Sometimes,” he answered.

“Just what exactly does that mean?”

“It means that if it’s not overly complicated, I can probably get it in proper working order and you don’t have to pay some technician with a logo sewn on his breast pocket an arm and a leg for doing something that in reality takes about half an hour.”

He
was
trying to impress her, she decided. Maren fixed him with a look. “If you think you can—”

He was quick to interrupt her. “I always think I can.”

She laughed, shaking her head. She couldn’t begin to figure him out. One moment he was sweet, the next, he was some Romeo, coming on to her. The only thing that remained constant was that she was attracted to him. And didn’t want to be. Didn’t want that breath-taking feeling, that rush that always accompanied that attraction. There was always a downside, a payback to worry about. “You’re incorrigible, you know that?”

The smile he gave her told her that he knew this already.

Jared picked up both empty cups and took them over to the large sink where the vegetables were rinsed before being pressed into service. He washed out both cups.

“I’ll bring tools tomorrow,” he promised.

She picked up her purse, ready to leave. If she was lucky, she might be able to get six hours’ sleep before she had to come in. “Get your jacket.”

He dried his hands on a towel that was hanging beside the drainboard. “I can lock up.”

Maren went immediately on alert. “You know the security code?”

“No, I meant I could lock the doors.” He offered her a sheepish grin. “Sorry, guess I’m not a hundred percent yet.”

That had been a slip, Jared upbraided himself. He
never
made slips. Being around her was definitely undermining his mental faculties. He had to stop thinking of her as a woman and focus on the reason he was here. Easier said than done, he thought, slanting a glance at her. He’d obviously roused her out of bed and she
still
looked better than most women did after half an hour’s worth of makeup application.

She watched him uneasily. “You sure you don’t want me to take you to the E.R., have you checked out?”

“For what, frostbite?” he teased. “I told you. Nothing fell off. Everything’s working. You got here just in time.” He turned suddenly and wound up a hairbreadth away from her. “Did I thank you for coming?”

Why did the air in her lungs stop moving when he looked at her like that? Why did she keep gazing at his lips and reliving the moment when time had abruptly stood still on the beach?

She couldn’t get involved with an employee, she silently insisted. Couldn’t get involved with him even if he wasn’t working here. Couldn’t get involved with anyone, period. She just didn’t want to put up with the hassles, the grief that waited for her at every turn.

“I had to come,” she finally said, forcing the words to her lips. “Couldn’t very well have my assistant chef turn into an icicle, now could I? Besides, Max would start in again about how overworked he was. I couldn’t stand listening to that again.”

Humor curved his mouth again as he walked with her to the front door. “So you saved me because of Max.”

Her shrug was casual. “Among other things.”

He caught her hand. They stopped just short of the front entrance. “You know how I kept myself warm in there while I was waiting for you to come open the door?”

She did her best to sound flippant. “Do I want to know this?”

He didn’t rise to the bait. “I thought about you. The way you looked on the beach while you were talking to me.”

“I really wish you’d forget about that.”

“Too late.” He took a step toward her. Feeling things far beyond what he knew he should be feeling. Things that took him far beyond the safety line. “What are you afraid of, Boss Lady?”

Her tongue tried to moisten lips drier than sand. “Smooth-talking employees who don’t know when to back off.”

His eyes never left hers.
Why this woman?
something whispered inside of him.
Why now?

“And that would be me?”

“That would be you.” She let him open the door and then she slipped out. Standing on the other side of the threshold, she waited for him to cross.

There was no arguing with the look in her eyes.

She’d bought them both a respite. But it was only a small one. And they both knew that, too. The inevitability of what lay ahead loomed on the horizon. Close enough to touch.

Chapter 8

J
ared came in the following morning at eight. Max opened the door for him. The corpulent chef, newly divorced, was just finishing up his breakfast and not in the best of moods. Jared went to his workstation and began the careful task of preparing for another day. He got off at six tonight and would check in with Abe Glassel at the precinct at six-thirty. For the time being, until he resolved a few issues, he decided to keep last night’s incident to himself.

Though his external, easygoing manner didn’t change—he’d offered a smile when confronted with Max’s scowl—he was even more vigilant today, his awareness so heightened it felt like the point of a freshly sharpened No. 2 pencil.

After last night’s mishap, everyone was under suspicion. Now more than ever he couldn’t afford to rule anyone out. Not even Maren. The fact bothered him more than just on a professional level.

Stirring, Jared added just the right amount of chicken stock to the boiling water. He turned the flame down beneath the large pot, allowing the contents to simmer as he continued stirring. At the table beside him was an array of vegetables April had prepared for him to add to the water once it was ready.

Someone had seen him at Joe’s computer last night. There was no doubt about that.

The doubt came in as to who it had been and why they hadn’t just gotten rid of him. Not that he wasn’t grateful, but why leave him alive? Was putting him in the refrigerator to be taken as a warning to back off? They could have just as easily killed him and gotten rid of the body. Or put him into the freezer for that matter. Odds were more than likely that he would have frozen to death before he’d had a chance to come to.

For that matter, why had they left his cell phone on his person? He knew that the assailant had gone through his wallet. One of the credit cards the department had issued in his fake name was out of place. He’d deliberately arranged the cards in a certain order and one card was not where it should have been. It was fair to speculate that whoever had hit him in the back of the head was trying to find out if he was who he said he was.

Were they satisfied that was the case? There hadn’t been anything on his person to link him to the real reason he was here. But then, why put him in the refrigerator at all?

Pausing to taste the soup base, he decided it needed more stock before he added anything else to it. Jared reached for the container and measured out just under half a cup.

Just who the hell was he dealing with? he wondered. Robin Hood?

“You’re looking very pensive today, Jared. Planning to spring another surprise on us?”

He looked up from the pot he was stirring to see that Joe Collins stood next to him. The clatter and chatter in the kitchen had masked his steps. An enigmatic smile graced the older man’s lips. Was there some kind of hidden meaning behind his words? Or was he just getting too damn paranoid?

“What?

At six-three the accountant was only slightly taller than he was. Their eyes were almost level as they met.

Joe nodded toward the pot. “Something new? Maren tells me that one of your dishes found its way to the menu already. Very enterprising.” He inclined his head, his eyes indicating the aproned man at the other stove. “Just make sure that Max doesn’t feel threatened. He gets very temperamental when he thinks someone is after his job.”

Jared appreciated the opening. He’d exchanged only a handful of words with Joe so far. There really wasn’t much reason for an assistant chef to talk to an accountant he hardly knew. But this gave him an opportunity to get a more intimate perspective on the man.

“Is that what happened to the last assistant chef?” Jared asked innocently.

Joe moved out of the way as Jared reached for the bowl of diced carrots. “We’re really not sure what happened to Emil. One day, he was here. The next, he was calling in his notice. Said he had a better job.” When Jared glanced at him, the older man shook his head. “I don’t know about that.”

“Why?”

Joe’s blue eyes crinkled as he gestured around the area. “What could be better than working here?” Then Joe patted him on the shoulder, his hamlike hand coming down just a tad hard. “Keep up the good work. Maren is very impressed with you. So’s Mr. Shepherd.” He winked before walking off. “Always a good thing to stay on
his
good side.”

“Thanks.” Jared deposited the shelled peas, stirring as the tiny bright green globes hit the shimmering liquid. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

As he watched Joe, the other man crossed the kitchen as if in search of someone. He stopped abruptly when he saw one of the busboys. The older man’s expression never changed, but after listening to what Eduardo had to say, Joe beckoned the young man over to the side by the sink. Out of sight.

Turning down the flame still further, Jared quickly grabbed the two bowls he’d just emptied and moved over to the sink. Instead of depositing the bowls, he began to wash them. Slowly. Straining his ears to hear above the soft steady stream of water.

Joe and Eduardo were several feet away from him. Because their voices were low, he couldn’t hear what was being said, but he saw Joe hand the busboy several folded bills. At first, the latter seemed reluctant to accept, but Joe took Eduardo’s hand and pressed the money into it.

Just what was it that he was witnessing? Was Joe paying Eduardo off for his silence about something?

He heard the soft sigh behind him. He didn’t have to turn around to know that it was Maren. Even if his senses hadn’t been sharpened because of last night, everything within him seemed to be completely in tune to her presence.

“He’s a soft touch. Always has been.”

When he turned toward her, Maren was watching Joe and the busboy, shaking her head. But there was no recrimination in her voice, only pride. She witnessed the busboy hurrying away, gratitude shining on his face even at this distance.

“Papa Joe can’t seem to walk away from anyone’s tale of woe.” Her mouth curved fondly as she spoke about the man who had raised her. “If I didn’t stop him, he probably would have given away his house by now.”

Leaving the bowls to dry, Jared wiped his hands off on his apron. “He’s a rare guy.”

“Yes,” she said in a tone he couldn’t quite read. “He is.”

As Joe turned to walk to his office, he glanced toward them and saw Maren.

Their eyes meeting, Maren crossed her arms in front of her. She slowly shook her head. It reminded Jared of his late mother whenever she was about to scold him. Joe cut across the kitchen and gave Maren’s cheek a quick kiss. The man, Jared noted, didn’t appear to be the slightest bit inhibited.

“Before you start in on your speech,” Joe told Maren, “Eduardo didn’t come to me. I went to him.”

She knew better. “And, what, you just felt like giving away money?”

“Loaning,” Joe corrected her. “I’m just loaning Eduardo some money. He’s good for it—” lowering his head, he peered at her over the tops of his clear-framed glasses “—unless you decide to fire him.”

She sighed. Joe was absolutely incorrigible, and she loved him for it. “I wouldn’t do that. Eduardo’s a good worker.”

“Exactly.” His comment was directed toward both of them. “A good worker who’s just in a financial jam, that’s all.”

She fixed Joe with a look. She knew when he was being devious. “And just how did you find out about this financial jam?”

“Carlos told me. He said that Eduardo had fallen behind in his rent because of the usual family problems. Two of his kids got sick and his oldest was outgrowing his clothes almost weekly.”

“I see.”

“Don’t get that look on your face, Maren. A father likes to do things for his kids. Eduardo’s good for it. Especially if he gets a raise soon for being such a ‘good worker.’”

“I—”

“Hey, Maren, telephone. It’s about the wedding reception,” one of the hostesses called to her.

“This isn’t over,” she told Joe, then hurried off to take the call.

Joe turned toward Jared. “She likes to be in charge.”

The man’s mood was infectious. Jared grinned. “I noticed.”

Joe shook his head. “Don’t know exactly when the roles reversed. One day she was listening to every word I said, the next, she knew better and started bossing me around. Kids…” His voice trailed off and then he looked at Jared. “You have any?”

“No. I’m not married,” Jared tagged on for good measure, in case Maren might have mentioned to the man what had happened on the beach.

“Great invention, kids,” Joe said, laughing to himself. “Make you old and keep you young all at the same time. Still haven’t figured out how.” Maren was coming back to join them. The pride he felt for his adopted daughter was evident in his every word, his every look. “Want some coffee?” he asked her.

She waved her hand at him. “You make ashes, not coffee. I’ll get it.”

Joe grinned as he gave her a quick, one-handed bear hug. “That’s my girl.” He kissed the top of her head. “Why don’t you come over for dinner tonight? Tucker misses seeing you.”

“Okay, it’s a date. I’ll get that coffee.”

“Tucker?” Jared heard himself asking as she walked toward the urns. Both were filled to capacity. The doors were opening soon. Jared tried his best not to sound intrusive, as if the inquiry was natural, without any undue weight.

Was there someone in her life? Was that why she seemed so reticent with him? Or was it just the memory of someone in her past that was responsible for harnessing her when they were together?

When he tried to tell himself it didn’t matter, it didn’t quite ring true.

“My dog,” Joe told him as he followed Jared back to the stove. “Our dog, really. I got Tucker while Maren still lived with me—she’s my daughter, you know.”

Jared drizzled the finely chopped celery into the pot, then put in just enough mushrooms for flavor. “Yes, I know. She told me.”

Glancing toward Joe, he saw that the man watched at him with interest. As a possible match for Maren? It didn’t seem likely. Then what? Was Joe feeling him out for some reason? Jared knew that for money laundering to be successful in this set of circumstances, the accountant would have to be in on it. But if he had ever met anyone who was less likely to have criminal leanings, it was Joe Collins.

For the first time in his life, the nature of his work really bothered Jared. The other assignments he’d worked on had taken him deep into the nether regions of a world populated with dealers and drug addicts and arms runners. The very dregs of society lived there.

Occasionally he had encountered people whose souls were not entirely black, who might be redeemable under the right set of circumstances, and he’d felt pity for them. In one instance he’d even set the wheels in motion to get a commuted sentence for a kid as long as the minor followed the strict rules set down in probation. But he’d never had doubts about what he was doing. Never had doubts about the lies he was telling, the people he was lying to.

Until now.

This was different.

These were people he could find himself liking. Under different circumstances…

About to leave, Joe stopped abruptly. “Hey, I’ve got an idea. You busy tonight?”

Jared thought of the meeting with his superior. That could be postponed if he was on to something. “No.”

“Why don’t you come over and cook for us?” Joe suggested with feeling. “Show us what you’ve got? Maren’s not much for cooking for herself and me, I live on TV dinners when I’m not grabbing something at one of the restaurants. The food’s great, but nothing beats the atmosphere of a home-cooked meal.” Joe warmed to his idea. “How about it, you game?”

He wanted the invitation, but he didn’t want to seem overly eager and to set off any alarms. For all he knew, Joe might be trying to feel him out, as well. “Won’t that be kind of the same thing? If I cook?”

Joe grinned broadly. “Just think of us as your guinea pigs.”

“Okay. What time?”

“I knock off by five. I can get Maren to do the same. This is your early night, isn’t it?”

As an accountant, Joe might know that, Jared thought. And then, he might have gone out of his way to find out. Jared’s suspicions went up another notch.

“Yes.”

“Excellent.” Joe looked exceedingly pleased. “Come by as soon as you’re done here. Anything special you want me to pick up?”

Jared thought of the excuse he’d given Maren why he’d been in the refrigerator when he’d gotten locked in. He might as well play that line out. “No, I’ve got it covered. You like duck?”

Amusement curved the older man’s mouth. “I like Donald and Daffy. Can’t say I’ve eaten it, though.” He thought a second. “Duck, huh?”

He was going to make duck à l’orange. Uncle Andrew had walked him through it once. He’d looked it up last night after he’d gotten home just in case Maren thought to ask him any questions about it today.

“Duck à l’orange,” he told him. “There’s an Asian market not far from where I live and I can get the rest of what I need here.” He indicated the spice table teeming with various ingredients.

“Make sure Maren knows. You wouldn’t want her to think you were pilfering the ingredients from the storeroom.” Jared couldn’t tell if Joe was serious or pulling his leg. “Maren’s a very generous soul, but she hates stealing. Always be up front with her.”

The warning rang in Jared’s head, underscoring his guilt.

“Up front with who?” Maren asked, rejoining them. “Here’s your coffee, Papa Joe.”

Joe paused to inhale deeply before answering her. “You, my dear. You.” He took a long sip and looked like a man who had just been revitalized. “I was just telling Jared here how much you value honesty.” He looked at Maren over the rim of his cup as he took another long sip. “By the way, he’ll be joining us tonight.”

Maren was stunned. She was trying to cover it, Jared thought, but she’d had an unguarded moment and he’d seen it. She wasn’t happy about Joe’s invitation. “Papa Joe, I really don’t—”

Joe cut her off, as if he knew what she was about to say. “Maren, the man needs to practice his art. Who better to practice it on than the woman who can further his career?” He paused for yet another sip, then said, “See you in the office.