Jermy, Marie - Together Forever [The Andersons 1] (Siren Publishing Classic) (16 page)

“You’re not safe here.
We’re
not safe here,” he amended.

“Then why bring me here in the first place?”

For a moment, he stared at her, even more incredulous than he had been a second earlier, before thundering, “Because you refuse to be straight with me!” He clenched and unclenched his fists in an effort to curb his anger. It helped, but not much. “Do you know what, Jessica? You wanna see a real moron? Look in the mirror!”

For ten seconds, maybe longer, silence reigned. Then a loud growling sound punctured the tense air. Despite himself, Ross felt his lips twitching. “I guess that’ll teach me to throw my breakfast at the wall.”

Jessica’s lips slowly stretched into a smile as Ross’s stomach again growled. “I’m sorry for accusing you of looking through my files. And I’m sorry about the ring. It’s beautiful, by the way.” She fiddled with his tie, rolling it around her forefinger, then letting it drop and straighten. “I’m such a screwup, Ross. I’m in serious debt. Have been for a couple of years.”

“But a girl’s gotta have her shoes.”

“And a boy’s gotta have his jeans,” she countered, tit for tat. “No, for your information, my debts are everyday living costs. They tend to add up when you’ve got no job. My reporting wasn’t bringing in much money so for extra income I became a private detective. But I can’t even do that right. I’ve screwed my father’s agency big time.” She hadn’t meant to go as far to admit that, but it just slipped out. She heard Ross’s intake of air.
One colostomy coming up,
she grimly thought, knowing she couldn’t back out now. Still didn’t mean she would let him help her if, or rather,
when
he offered. She’d screwed up. She’d put it right.

“Since when?”

“Since day one.”

“Why didn’t you say anything? You know you can always talk to me. About anything.”

“Because I’m a failure.” There, she’d said it. And as colostomies went, it hadn’t been too painful. Embarrassment wasn’t evident, either. Probably because she was staring at Ross’s tie knot, not his face.

“You’re neither a screwup nor a failure.”

He sounded sincere, but she still couldn’t look at him. “Compared to you I am.”

 
“Don’t put me on a pedestal, Jessica, I’ve made mistakes.”

“Name one.”

“Asking you into my bed.”

She looked up then. “You don’t mean that.”

He blew out a hard breath. “No. I don’t regret making love to you.”

She smiled. “Neither do I. So what mistakes have you made?”

He returned her smile.
“Not realizing how much trouble you’re in, financial or otherwise. Does Ray know?”

She lowered her head again and shook it. “I can’t bring myself to tell him.”

“Maybe you won’t need to. Let me help.”

Jessica’s head whipped up. “No! This is
my
screwup, and
I’m
sorting it.”

“But—”

“No buts. It’s nothing to do with you. And that’s the end of it,” she added, just in case Ross felt like arguing. He didn’t. Yet, his expression told her it wasn’t the end of the matter, not by a long shot. She went over to her backpack and removed a toothbrush. “Let’s go see Rafferty. Or rather, I’ll see Rafferty.” She sighed with mock enthusiasm. “How come I get all the fun?”

“You may want to put some underwear on first.”

Jessica paused in the kitchen doorway. Then, smoothing her hands down her dress, she gave Ross a suggestive smile and murmured, “Not on your life, babe.”

“Don’t call me babe. We’re not lovers. We’re friends. And that’s the way it’s gonna stay.”

Now, why didn’t that sound totally convincing? As she approached Ross again, she concluded it didn’t sound convincing because he didn’t mean it. Wrapping her arms around his neck, watching his eyes widening, Jessica pressed her lips to his and sucked his tongue into her mouth. For a moment, he deepened the kiss, before jerking away.

“Don’t do that again!”

“Whatever you say, babe.”

“I mean it, Jessica. We’re friends. Period. You got that?”

“Loud and clear,” she replied, not in any way disheartened as she left the kitchen to go to the bathroom. So Ross and herself were just friends, were they? Well, yes, they were, but the conflict she’d felt within him told her he wanted more. Much more. And, oh, boy, did she intend to give him more.

Right after as Ross had vowed, but with the small amendment of, until
they
caught the bastard who wanted her dead. Together they would send him on a one-way trip to the cemetery.

Chapter 9

“Miss Ferris, a pleasure as always.”

Jessica gave Rafferty a lukewarm smile as she entered his office and he rose to his feet. “Likewise, Detective Rafferty. Likewise.”

“Please, call me Scott. Take a seat. Tea? Coffee?”

She sat in one of the rigid chairs in front of Rafferty’s desk, noting the absence of personal knickknacks that usually adorned the desks of male detectives whom she knew. Ross included. No family photos. No boys’ toys, such as miniature pinball or pool. No jokey mug. No squeezy stress ball. No naked woman desktop calendar, either. Just a telephone, a blotter pad, an empty wire tray, and a pencil cup containing a solitary pen. Something else occurred to her. Why did Detective Rafferty have an office all to himself?

“Because I asked.”

Surprised, Jessica switched her attention from the desk to the man sitting behind it. Did Rafferty have mind-reading properties? She hoped not. This was the first time she’d met him during daylight hours. Although bathed in light from the sun that streamed in through the windows on either side of him, something told her he was more suited to the night. Like a shadow. A ghost. And as she mentally tripped and fell into his black, expressionless eyes, she began to have serious doubts as to his existence on planet earth.

“So, tea or coffee?”

“Tea. Chamomile,” she added with a saccharine smile, zooming in on Rafferty’s chest. Phew, he was breathing. She couldn’t see through his hand either as he signaled to somebody walking past the open doorway.

“A cup of chamomile tea for Miss Ferris.”

“Chamomile tea? We don’t have that.”

“Then go out and get some!” Rafferty barked, making both Jessica and the just-out-of-college, fresh-faced man dressed in a civilian uniform jump. “Sorry about that.” He sounded anything but. “While we’re waiting, why don’t you tell me where Detective Anderson is.”

She then began to wish she’d taken Ross’s advice of wearing underwear, as those expressionless eyes toured her body, lingering for a long moment on her breasts. “He’ll be here shortly. There’s a salon a few blocks down and he just wanted to book an appointment for a chest wax.”

“Really?”

Jessica returned his smirk. “Really. So, Detective Rafferty—”

“Scott.”

“Scott. How old are you? Where are you originally from? Have you any family? Wife? Children? Whereabouts do you live?”

“Such a lot of questions, Miss Ferris.”

“Jessica.” She again returned the smirk. “What can I say? I’m a PI.”

“And a former reporter.” Rafferty leaned forward, his pale hands flat on the desk. “I’ve read some of your stories.”

“I wrote facts, not stories,” she amended silkily. “As I was saying, just like yourself and other police officers, PIs
and
reporters get to ask questions.”

“But it’s whether those questions are answered or not that counts, right?”

“Quite. And are you going to answer?”

“Over twenty-one. Milwaukee. Orphan. No. No. New York.”

“New York’s a big city.”

“Indeed, it is. What about you, Jessica? How old are you? Where are you originally from? Family? Husband? Kids? Whereabouts do you live?”

“It’s rude to ask a woman’s age. Planet earth. None of your business. Can’t remember. Too many. You know where.”

Rafferty laughed then, a suggestive, lively laugh that totally and unexpectedly pricked Jessica’s interest. His black eyes now lit up with life, and she, for the first time, noticed he was really good-looking. Not as handsome as Ross, but still…

“Indeed, I do. And speaking of your apartment…” He opened the top drawer and removed a set of keys. “I believe these are yours. I would have given them to Detective Anderson last night, but he was in such a hurry to leave. What was his real reason for being at your apartment?”

Disgusted with herself, Jessica snatched the keys from Rafferty’s hand. “You’ve been admiring his reason since I arrived. And if you drool over my breasts again, I’ll slap you with a sexual harassment suit quicker than you can get a hard-on.”

“That quick? I’m impressed. Ah, your tea has arrived. Please, enjoy. I can wait until Detective Anderson gets here before I take your statement. I just hope he’s not going to be too much longer. You know how busy we detectives can be.”

Jessica gratefully accepted the Styrofoam cup the same civilian from earlier handed her before he beat a hasty retreat. It wasn’t chamomile, but she didn’t care. She drank it slowly for two reasons.

One, she’d already given Ross an hour by waiting downstairs at the front desk before asking to see Rafferty, so any extra time was a bonus, especially if she didn’t have to spend it on idle chat with him.

Two, with the way she held the cup in both hands in front of her chest, it not only warmed her fingers but concealed her nipples, which had hardened from the sudden drop in temperature and were pressing against the dress.

Finally, breaking out into goose bumps, she couldn’t take it any longer. “Do you think you can turn the air-conditioning off?”

“Asking for my own office is one thing. Asking for one with air-conditioning would have been pushing it.”

She didn’t like the way Rafferty’s eyes glittered when he stood up and removed his suit jacket as he stepped around the desk. He draped it around her shoulders, and she shivered when icy fingertips brushed against her cheek. She glanced down at the floor, surprised there wasn’t a buildup of snow. Not to mention mothballs. The jacket smelt musty as though Rafferty hadn’t worn it for a long time.

“Miss Ferris. Jessica. Allow me to warm you up.”

A familiar voice sounded behind her. “Detective Rafferty. Scott. Allow me to cool you down!”

Jessica spat the tea she’d just taken back into the cup and turned around. With his hands-on-hips stance and aggressive tone, Ross’s message was clear—hands off my woman. He whipped Rafferty’s jacket from her shoulders and replaced it with his own blazer.

Ah, that felt better. Warmer. And with notes of apple, sandalwood and musk, a more appealing scent. Utterly arousing. Unmistakably male. Undeniably Ross.

“Book your chest-waxing appointment all right?” Rafferty asked as he retrieved his jacket from the floor where Ross had dropped it.

“I did. Next Tuesday morning at eleven.” Ross bent to remove an envelope from the blazer’s right-hand, outer pocket, then moved the chair next to Jessica farther away so he could sit sideways, facing both her and Rafferty. “Chest wax?” he mouthed to her, wincing.

Jessica shrugged as if she didn’t have a clue as to why he winced. He had told her to lie if Rafferty asked for his whereabouts. So, with just the tiniest bit of teasing, she had. The idea of Ross having his chest waxed, or any other part of his incredible body for that matter, was about as laughable as her having the hots for Rafferty. Her earlier prickle of interest had been a blip. “Now that you’re here, Ross, perhaps we can give our statements?”