It Had to Be You (13 page)

“You know something else?” she asked.

“No.” He stuffed another big bite in his mouth rather than tell her that, yes, he knew something else—her ex was a serious dick.

“If you know something that will help,” Zach said, “you need to tell us.”

Luke set down his fork and gave Zach a look that had the lawyer pulling back just a little bit. Brave but not stupid. Good to know. “The only thing I’ve got is what we all already know—there are more women in Marshall’s life. I think whoever else was in his office the night of the auction is the key to this whole thing.”

“We’ll find her,” Zach said, sounding far more sure of himself than Luke would have thought possible, considering the guy looked like he’d walked off an ’80s punk rock poster. “Ali, did you see anything interesting in his office the next day?”

“No. I was only there for a minute both times. The first visit, I just grabbed the pencil pot. The second time, I…” She broke off and nibbled on her lower lip.

“What?” Zach pressed.

“I guess I was still pissed about what I’d heard the night before and—”

“Tell me again,” Zach said, “what you heard.”

She shuddered. “Teddy in the throes.”

Zach grimaced. “Other than that.”

Luke took in Ali’s expression. She wasn’t sad, she was pissed, and he was glad. Marshall didn’t deserve a piece of her heart.

Neither do you…

“Anyway,” Ali said. “I set his things on his desk.”

“I read the police report, Ali, that’s not all you did,” Zach said.

She winced. “So I left him a sticky note telling him what he could do with his text breakup, where to stick it, how to stick it…that sort of thing. Big deal.”

Luke already knew this, but he felt the pride fill his chest again. “Nicely done, by the way.”

She shifted, looking embarrassed. “I threatened him. The police frown on that.”

“You could plead temporary insanity,” Luke said, wanting to lighten the mood.

Ali rolled her eyes, but looked far less vulnerable, and Luke nearly smiled because damn, she didn’t need her ceramic lion or the owl. She had guts and brains in spades.

It’d been a long time since he’d ached to be with a woman for more than what they could give each other in bed. This was the problem with Ali, she made him ache. There was just something about her that drew him in, leaving him defenseless against her.

Not good.

“How bad is that note?” Ali asked Zach. “Bad? Or
bad
bad?”

“Bad isn’t the right word,” Zach said. “Let’s go with…a little difficult.”

She just looked at him. “You don’t want me to freak out about writing that I was going to do something to him, and then something happened.”

“I don’t want you to worry,” Zach said, and once again Luke felt his reluctant respect for the guy increase.

Zach glanced at the time and rose. “Gotta get to work.” He turned to Luke. “If you learn anything else…” He pushed his business card toward him. “I’m all ears.” He gave Ali a kiss on the cheek and sent Luke a long, unmistakable look that said
I’m watching you
as he moved to the door. “Stay in touch, Al.”

Luke walked him outside.

At the end of the driveway, Zach faced him, eyes cool, smile gone. “Not that I have to defend myself to you, but I can handle whatever happens here.”

“You sure?” Luke asked. “Because you need to be fucking
sure
. She trusts you.”

“She
should
trust me. I’ve known her since grade school. And you’ve known her for what, five minutes?”

Luke had to give the puppy props. He had sharp teeth.

“Are you sleeping with her?” Zach asked.

“None of your business.”

“She’s my friend and my client. She’s very much my business. And she’s watching us right now, so try to look like you don’t necessarily plan on kicking my ass.”

Luke turned and glanced at the window, indeed finding Ali watching them. He lifted a hand in greeting.

She narrowed her eyes.

Zach smiled and waved at her, then turned his back to the house to slide Luke a measuring look. “Don’t even think about climbing into her bed,” he said. “She’s way too vulnerable for the likes of you right now.”

Having been told the same thing by Jack, Edward, and his own conscience, Luke felt himself getting pissed off. “I’ll worry about me. You worry about the case.”

“Fine. But I’ll be watching you,” Zach said.

“Yeah? Right back at ya.”

L
uke waited until Zach drove off before turning to the house.

Ali was gone from the window.

The place stood as it always had, a little bit quirky, a lot worn, but steady as his grandma had been.

His home away from home for just about all his life.

His grandma had worked hard for many years, but in that last year, she’d finally retired. Her hobby had been painting, and she’d used the garage as a studio. Luke had loved it there, the scents of the oil paint and his grandma’s candles, the huge beanbag chair that had been his to crawl into and watch her work. The cookies she’d always had out…

Shaking his head at the memories, he punched in the code for the garage door and watched it open, blinking in surprise.

Because there was Ali, paintbrush in hand.

Clearly seeing something in his expression, she put down the brush. There was a table between them, a work table. She made no move to go around it, leaving him to assume she needed the barrier.

He got that. He needed a barrier from her too. He just didn’t know what the hell kind of barrier could possibly stand between her and his damn heart, since she was making dust of the walls he’d had in place by just breathing. It was her sweet courage, and the capacity she had for caring about everyone and everything. It was the way she kissed him, as if she was desperately clinging to the fleeting pleasure before it vanished. It was the fierceness with which she protected his privacy. It was her smile.

It was everything about her.

“It’s going to be okay, you know,” she said.

“Your life, you mean?” he asked.

“And yours.”

For months, he’d been operating deep in negativity and bad shit. There’d been no light at the end of the tunnel. His glass was half empty. No silver lining…

Not Ali. Her world had fallen apart too, and yet she looked at things completely differently. It wasn’t that she wore rose-colored glasses. No one who’d grown up as tough and fast as she had
could
wear rose-colored glasses. She simply chose
not
to live in the dark.

He admired and respected the hell out of that. He looked at the table and saw that she’d been painting a small ceramic bowl shaped like a canoe.

“I hope you don’t mind,” she said, gesturing to the table and her work. “We need a new key bowl.” Since she’d chucked the other one at his head…He smiled at the memory.

“My grandma painted in here too.” He looked to the other side of the garage, where Fay’s shelves still stood. He could almost see her, standing in front of her easel, the sun slanting in the window, casting her in a glow as she created magic out of a blank canvas. “I used to sit at her feet and watch.” He pointed to the sheet-covered beanbag chair. “I even gave it a shot myself when she bugged me about it.”

“Were you any good?”

“Not even a little bit.” He lifted a shoulder, surprised to feel warm at the memories, not regretful.

She came around the table. “So you lived here with her?”

“During the summers,” he said. “All my life, until she died.”

Her smile faded. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.” He stared at the garage wall. “She shouldn’t have died like she did.”

She touched his arm. “What happened?”

He blew out a breath and ran a hand over the back of his neck. “Mornings weren’t her thing. We all knew it. Sara used to joke that in order to wake her up, we ought to just stand in the doorway and throw a two-by-four at her and then run like hell.”

She smiled. “My mom’s like that.”

“I learned young to leave her alone until she’d had her caffeine. Then the summer of my sophomore year in college, I was here working for a lumber company, and one day I got her up too early. Jesus, she lit into me and we got into a big, old fight.” He felt that familiar clutch of guilt. “I knew she needed me to move some boxes and furniture around for her, but I was a total dick about it. I left early for work and didn’t come home for my lunch break like we’d planned. After work, I went out on the water, and after that, hit a bar with the guys. I didn’t come back here until late.” He paused. “I found her on the bathroom floor. Stroke.”

“Oh, no,” Ali said softly, voice thick with pain for him. “Oh, Luke, how awful.”

He’d never forget the horror and gut-wrenching fear that had taken over his body at the sight of her. He’d dropped to his knees and tried to find a pulse, but she’d been cold and long gone. “It’d happened hours before. She probably lay there wondering where the hell I was and why I didn’t help her.”

She touched him, ran a hand down his back, saying nothing for a long moment. “How long until you were able to come back to the house?” she asked.

“Ten years.”

She went still, clearly doing the math. “This is your first time back?”

“Yeah.” He wished like hell that he could see his grandma standing there painting, smiling, full of life, just one more time. She’d always been so forgiving. So willing to love him, no matter what. And there’d been plenty to forgive, most notably the incident two years prior to her death, when he’d screwed up in a different way.

By failing Sara.

He’d failed them both, and Luke would give just about anything to be able to tell his grandma how sorry he was, that he never should have left her like he had. That he’d regretted it every single day since. That she was the reason he tried so damn hard these days to make sure he had nothing else to regret. “It was a long time ago,” he said.

“You and I both know that doesn’t matter,” she said quietly.

He stared down into her face, which was creased into an expression of honest concern. In the here and now, she had plenty to be worried about. Instead, she was worried about him and something he’d gone through ten years ago. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

“You’re probably ready to get back to San Francisco by now,” she said softly.

“Actually,” he said, “I love it here. I always have. But I need to get back. My commander’s been calling.”

She nodded, accepting, which wasn’t the same thing as being indifferent to his imminent departure, because she was the least indifferent person he’d ever met. She felt things to the bone. In fact, she had a capacity to feel things that he’d never had.

Or maybe it’d been so long he’d just forgotten how.

She could change that.
At the thought, his chest tightened and burned with a need that wasn’t just physical, though there was that too. He wanted to let her warmth wash over him, wanted to feel things like she did.

Just for a moment, a single moment.

Or maybe two…

Hitting the touch pad on the wall to shut the garage door, he stepped close to her, sliding his hands up her bare arms to cup her face.

She met him halfway, winding her arms around his neck, her sweet kiss stealing the very air from his lungs. When her tongue touched his, it sent a bolt of hunger through him so strong he wasn’t sure he’d survive it. Pulling her up against himself, he enjoyed the feel of her, including the way her heart pounded hard into his.

When they broke apart, she stared up at him, breathing unsteadily. He touched her jaw, and she took his hand, wordlessly turning, tugging him with her. Into the house. Through the kitchen. Into her bedroom.

The walls were sky blue with sheer white drapes blowing gently in the breeze, beyond which lay a view of the water.

Home…

But by far, the more heart-stopping view was right in front of him. “Ali,” he said, his voice low and gruff. He wanted this. Christ, he wanted this. But…

She shut the bedroom door, leaning back against it to smile at him. “You look like you’re facing some sort of forbidden fruit.”

Truer than she could have imagined. He knew damn well that being with a man meant something to her. Lots of things meant something to her. He admired that about her—greatly—especially since he wasn’t feeling much for anyone or anything these days.

She could change that
, a small voice inside him said,
if you let her
. He opened his mouth with no idea what he was going to say, but she pushed off the door and came close, pressing a finger against his lips. “Shh a minute,” she whispered. “I just want to see something…”

And then she went up on tiptoes and kissed him again.

He heard himself groan, and then his arms tightened around her as he opened his mouth wider on hers, willing to let her lead, to let her take this wherever she wanted to go.

She kissed him back, deeper, and his heart started to pound because he knew
exactly
where she wanted this to go.

Same place he did. Still, he shouldn’t let it happen. He shouldn’t…

And yet he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. Just one more taste, he thought. One more touch. His hands skimmed up her back, bared by her halter dress, and she arched into him seeking more.

God. God, she was so sweet, her lips clinging to his, her fingers digging into his arms like he was her anchor. And when she moaned and rubbed up against him, he knew.

He was in trouble. Deep trouble.

He’d been fantasizing about her, just like this, melting in his arms, taking everything he gave her and wanting more still. The reality of it was even better than the fantasy. She was warm and soft and eager.
His
. A ridiculous thought that didn’t stop him from taking, from slanting his mouth over hers more fully and cupping her breasts, sliding his thumbs over her pebbled nipples. He wanted her in his mouth, every part of her, and was tugging on the tie at the back of her neck toward that very goal when someone rang the doorbell.

They broke apart and stared at each other.

“Wait here,” he said, and gently nudged her aside to open the bedroom door.

He took his time walking through the house so as to not open the door with a full-blown hard-on. But looking through the peephole took care of that.

Ted Marshall stood on his doorstep.