Love On The Ropes (Ringside Romance) (20 page)

“I can’t take you home,” she said.
Her gaze darted to the interrogation room door, then back to Jason.

“Fine, maybe they’ve got an empty
cell for me.” He turned back to the office.

“Jason, stop,” Lou said. “Sandy,
do your job and take him home with you.”

“He’s a criminal!”

“It was all a mistake,” Lou said.

“He was dealing steroids,” she said
between clenched teeth.

Jason towered over her. “I’m
innocent.”

And he was, damn it. He wanted her
to believe him.

“Let’s take this outside, kids.”
Lou herded them outside and they hovered beneath an awning. “It goes like this.
Sandy, you drive off with The Stripper. I don’t care where you drop him as long
as you pretend like you’re taking him home. And Stripper, you stay out of
trouble until this thing is cleared up.” He checked his watch. “I’ve got a date
with a redhead and a bottle of cabernet. Everyone good?” He looked from Sandy
to Jason. “Good.” Holding his raincoat over his head, Lou shuffled to his midnight
blue Cadillac.

“There’s a 7-Eleven down the
block. Drop me off,” Jason said, a part of him hoping she’d believe the bluff,
the other part wishing she’d argue with him.

“Looking like that?” She eyed his
bare chest, then her gaze drifted to his spandex trunks.

Damn, he always got hard when she
did that.

“You’ll get arrested and tossed
back in jail,” she said.

“They’re keeping my duffel as
evidence,” he said, keeping with his cover. “I don’t have much choice.”

She sighed and shot him a look of
pity. The one thing he couldn’t stand, not from her. He turned and reached for
the door.

“What are you doing?” She grabbed
his arm.

“I can tell you don’t want any
part of this, so I’m calling a cab.”

“Wait, you don’t have a wallet, do
you?”

He plucked his wallet from between
his skin and his trunks. Her eyes widened.

“Oh,” she said.

Was that disappointment in her
voice? Probably. She liked the guys who were wounded, hurt and totally
dependent on her.

“Still, you’re my responsibility,”
she said.

“You mean,” he leaned close, “I
get to come home with you?”

Panic flared in her eyes. What did
she think he was going to do to her? He knew the answer to that: anything that
would solve this case, including seduction.

“Or I go home with you,” she said.

He straightened. “Not an option.”

“Why not?”

Maybe, because he didn’t have a
real home? “Bachelors live like pigs.”

“I’ve got two brothers and a
father. Two are bachelors, the other is a high school athletics coach with
three kids. I can take anything.”

He shook his head. “Can’t do it.”

“You’ve seen my place,” she
argued.

Her place was clean, well
decorated and welcoming—a real home. His place was a pit—and three hundred miles
away, although she didn’t know that. The less she knew about him the better.

She studied him. “Okay, my place,”
she said. “Let’s pick up your clothes.”

“You sure?” he asked, following
her to her compact SUV.

“No.”

She unlocked the doors and they
climbed into the vehicle. He touched her shoulder and she froze, her hands on
the wheel.

“Sandy?”

“What?” She didn’t look at him.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me. Thank Lou. He got
me into this mess.” She shifted the SUV into Drive and they took off.

J’s hand slipped off her shoulder,
and glanced out the front window. Sure, right, a mess. Of course she’d think of
it that way. It wasn’t like she was helping out a guy down on his luck. She’d
been ordered to take a criminal home for the weekend.

He hated that she automatically
assumed he was guilty. She had a lot of nerve, especially since she was most
likely the leader of this drug ring. Where did she get off being
self-righteous?

“You want to give me a clue where
you live?” she asked.

No, he really didn’t. He didn’t
want her seeing his temporary apartment, the emptiness and anonymity. He didn’t
want her seeing into anything about him because if she did, she’d get too close
and she’d see that broken part of him that made Dad cut and run twenty years
ago.

Let it go, McBain.

Her phone beeped and she glanced
at the screen. Apparently someone sent her a text message, because a grin
spread across her face. He wished he’d put it there.

“Message from the boyfriend?” he
asked.

“You know I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“That’s right, you’re a lesbian,”
he teased.

“Very funny.” She dropped her cell
phone in a holder by the gearshift.

“The guy from last night?” he
pressed.

“What about him?”

“Was that him?” He motioned to the
phone.

“No, it was my dad.”

Her father’s text put a bright
smile on her face. Envy warred with pain in Jason’s chest.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“About what?”

“About your dad leaving.”

He glanced out the passenger
window. Ah, his confession about wanting to forget the old man was back to
haunt him.

“That must have been horrible,”
she said.

Yeah, but not as bad as J
disappointing his mother.

Sandy pulled into a Piggly Wiggly
grocery store and parked.

He glanced at her. “You’ve decided
to abandon me here?”

She hesitated and his gut
clenched.
Cut and run before it’s too late.
He gripped the door handle.

“No,” she said. “My mind-reading
skills are a little rusty, so I haven’t a clue where you live. We’re getting
your clothes, remember?”

“I don’t live around here. I’m
staying at the Holiday Inn off of 53 and Algonquin.”

She shoved the car in gear and
headed north. “But that doesn’t answer my question,” she muttered.

“I’m from Detroit.”

“That’s where Cosmo found you?”

“Yep.”

Okay, so he wasn’t from Detroit
originally, but it didn’t matter. He called Detroit his home base these days.
He could be anonymous, do his job, not get attached to anyone. The biggest
mistake of all was getting attached.

“You can drop me at the hotel,” he
said. “I’ll stay out of trouble.”

She shook her head. “Can’t. I made
a promise.”

“You didn’t promise anything. The
suit signed the papers.”

“For the company,” she said. “I’m
left with the responsibility of watching you, so that’s what I’ll do.”

“It’s not necessary.”

“Maybe not to you,” she said.

“What do you get out of all this,
anyway?”

“Come again?” she said, merging
onto the expressway.

“Why do you do this? Give up your
life for this stupid business.”

“Because ... it
is
my
life.”

He shook his head.

“Listen, smart guy,” she growled,
“I’m past thirty and I have a steady job with chunks of days off at a time. I
can sleep in and get free food at the shows. BAM is my family. We all look out
for each other.”

“I don’t see anyone looking out
for you,” he said.

“Then you need glasses. Besides, I
like my job.”

“You like the thought of taking me
home with you?”

“Not necessarily that part of the
job.” She sighed and tightened her grip on the wheel. “Up to now, my condo has
been my private place. No one from BAM knew my address or home phone number.
When I go into my place I’m in my own world. I don’t share that world with
anyone.”

“Not even Cody Monroe?”

She sighed. “Okay, yeah, I let him
in and it was a big mistake. That’s why I’m not thrilled with the idea of
bringing you home. You’ll contaminate my space.”

“You brought Decker home with you
the other night.”

She nibbled her lower lip. “Yeah, I
was hoping for something special from him.”

“Like sex?”

“See, that’s where you guys always
go. It’s all about the sex.”

“Hey, babe, you were the one
running into the street in your underwear.”

“I was changing into something more
comfortable when Madame Bovary attacked him. I couldn’t let him leave like
that, all upset and ... bald.” She suddenly bit back a grin.

“Such a considerate girl,” he
said.

“You’re mocking me.”

I’m wanting you
.

She looked so damned touchable
with her hair falling out of its clip and her T-shirt stretched across her
petite frame.

“I’ll get my things at the hotel
and you can drop me at the airport,” he said. Good plan. Fly away. Escape.

“The whole point is to keep you in
town. You can stay at my place and sleep on the couch,” she said.

Great, sleeping in the thick of
it, watching her walk by in her nightshirt—or would she wear silk to bed?

“Whatever,” he said. He was physically
and emotionally exhausted. He’d been blindsided by the enemy and humiliated to
the core. He needed a hot meal, warm clothes and a good night’s sleep. Then he
could move forward with a clear head.

Like that was going to happen at
Sandy’s place?

* * *

He was too quiet, Sandy thought,
turning a page in her new mystery novel. Wanting her own space, she holed up in
her bedroom hoping to catch up on a little reading. Instead, all she could
think about was the man bunking in her living room.

The phone rang, and she snatched
it from the bedside cradle. If Jason had fallen asleep, she didn’t want the
phone to wake him. Oh brother! He wasn’t an invited guest. He was a job
requirement.

“Hello?” she said.

“Hey, little sister,” Duke
replied. “How did it go with The Stripper?”

“Lou sprung him.”

“Cool. All a mistake?”

“I don’t know the details.”

But she did know the Feds wanted
him to hang around for more questioning even if he wasn’t guilty.

Don’t be a fool!

“Get details by Sunday. Dad’s
coming to the barbeque.”

“Does Mom know?”

“She knows. Didn’t you hear the
eruption earlier?” He chuckled. “There’s a lot happening Sunday. Curt and Trudy
are celebrating ten years; Juju’s birthday is in a few weeks so we’re doing
that, too; plus, rumor has it you’re bringing a date. Dad wouldn’t miss that,”
Duke said.  “So, who is he?”

Jason knocked on the bedroom door.

“Come in,” she said.

He poked his head into her room.
“I’m making tea. You interested?”

“Sure, thanks.”

He nodded and disappeared,
although not completely. His image still hovered in her mind—his tight jeans,
tighter T-shirt and warm smile.

“Was that a guy’s voice? You have
a guy in your condo at this time of night?” he teased.

“Shut up. I’m a grown woman.”

“Who is he?”

“None of your business. I’ve gotta
go.” She hung up and glanced at the clock. It was nine p.m. and a man was
making tea in her kitchen. She collapsed on the bed, clicked off her bedside
lamp and stared at the glow-in-the- dark stars scattered across her ceiling.

The guys at work thought of her as
tough, and disinterested in romance, especially since the Cody disaster.  But
deep in her heart, what she wanted most was a man to cherish her. A handsome,
honorable, trustworthy man who would make her laugh and rub her feet, pick up
after himself and fill her gas tank when it was low.

Because he loved her.

She didn’t want to be dependent on
a man. That’s where Mom got it wrong by depending too much on Dad. Pops was a good
man and provided a good living, but when it came to emotional support he was a
bit challenged. It had taken Sandy this long to figure that out.

She snatched Peanut, her stuffed
kitty, off the pillow and stroked its fur. Sandy would never put that kind of
pressure on a man. She’d accept him for who he was. She’d believe in him because
she loved him. And he loved her.

Glancing at the stars, Sandy
wished for smarter wrestling moves and fewer injuries. She wished for Pops’
health to improve, and Duke to try harder in physical therapy so he’d walk
again. She wished for...

A handsome prince to help bear the
burdens she carried on her back.

“Tea’s ready. Whoa,” Jason said
from the doorway, staring at the ceiling.

She glanced at him. He looked
pretty harmless when viewed upside down. Harmless, right. Here she’d been
wishing for a prince and instead she’d been stuck with a lying, drug dealing
pro wrestler. Yet, a part of her really didn’t believe the drug dealing part.
Chump
.

She sat up and turned on the
light. The stars disappeared.

“That’s cool,” he said, still
eyeing the ceiling.

She placed Peanut back on her
pillow.

“Madame Bovary isn’t jealous?”

“Nope.” She stood and pulled her
hair out of its braid. “She’s only jealous of living things.”

“Which explains why she attacked
your date the other night.”

True, yet she hadn’t attacked
Jason.

“Where is that feisty princess,
anyway?” Sandy walked to the bedroom door and he handed her a hot mug of tea.

“Curled up on the couch,” he said.
“Looks like I won’t be sleeping alone tonight.”

Their eyes caught. Was that a
spark of need in his eyes? Good grief. If he needed sex half as much as she
did, they were both screwed. The two of them having sex would be, in a word,
disastrous.

“Not a good idea, huh?” he said.

“What?” Had he read her mind?

“Me sleeping with Madame Bovary,”
he clarified.

“Oh,” she hesitated, “no, probably
not.” She sounded like an idiot. But she couldn’t tear her gaze from the indigo
eyes studying her, almost as if they saw right through her, seeing her fears,
her hopes.

“Well, if the cat’s taking up half
the couch, and she isn’t into sharing, what do you suggest?” he asked.

Sleep with me?

She didn’t say the words out loud,
but he had to have read them in her eyes. No, not again. She wouldn’t be drawn
into a man’s trap, seduced by his sweet words, innuendos and good looks.