Nickeled-And-Dimed to Death (21 page)

Finally satisfied that the store was all set for the next day, I put the cash drawer into the safe and turned off the lights. I had already locked the front entrance when the last of the sewers left, and I had parked my Z4 in the rear lot, so I headed out through the back door.

Just as my hand touched the car door handle, a male voice behind me said, “Boo.”

I screamed and jumped back, hitting my head against someone’s hard chin. The last thing I saw was a pair of dull brown eyes peering down at me as my vision blurred and I passed out.

CHAPTER 19

J
ake Del Vecchio, don’t you ever sneak up on me like that again.��� Having recovered from my momentary swoon, I was now sitting inside a beat-up 1969 Dodge Charger, bawling out a man I barely recognized.

The guy I’d been dating for the past month was dazzlingly handsome. The dude in the driver’s seat next to me looked like a cross between someone who had been sleeping on the streets and a member of a motorcycle gang. My Jake was clean-shaven with a lean, chiseled profile and bronzed skin that pulled taut over the elegant ridge of his cheekbones. This character hadn’t been near a razor in several days, and his complexion was a pasty gray.

The man I’d been seriously considering sleeping with had gorgeous, silky black hair and striking sapphire-blue eyes. This guy was bald and his eyes were the color of a cow patty. He didn’t even smell the same. Jake’s scent reminded me of fresh air and newly mown fields of hay, while this dude stank of cigarettes, stale beer, and sweat.

Clearly, he was undercover, but the changes in him were stunning. How had he accomplished such a complete transformation in such a short time? Obviously, he’d started shaving his head and stopped shaving his face, but how had he changed his skin tone from suntanned to nearly dead white? Was he wearing makeup?

The different eye color could be contact lenses, and the odor was easily achieved by not bathing, but he didn’t even appear to be six-four anymore, and his well-muscled body now seemed to be thicker and less toned. There was no way he’d gotten shorter and gained weight in the five days since I’d last seen him.

The only parts of him that were familiar were the strong column of his throat as it rose from the collar of his scuffed-up leather jacket, the hard thighs straining the fabric of his worn blue jeans, and the large calloused hands resting on the steering wheel.

I noticed all this while I continued to yell at him for scaring me half to death. Finally, once I’d calmed down enough to think, I demanded, “And why haven’t I heard from you? Were you too busy getting reacquainted with Meg?”

Okay, I shouldn’t have added that last sentence, but it just slipped out. My only excuse was that I was still freaked by how he’d crept up on me while looking like a serial killer.

“I’m sorry.” Jake held up his palms in surrender. “I thought you saw me when you walked out of the store and that you were just ignoring me because you were mad I’d broken our date.”

“I wasn’t angry about that,” I lied. “I knew you were going back to the marshal service as soon as you were cleared.” I pasted a fake smile on my face and added, “By the way, congratulations.”

“Thanks.” Jake’s expression was cautious. “But you are upset that I haven’t been in touch and am working with my ex-wife? Because, let me assure you, even though Meg and I are together constantly pretending to be a couple, we are not together in any other way.”

“While it would have been nice to have heard from you sooner, I understand that you were too busy to make a call or send a text,” I lied again, ignoring his comment about his nonrelationship with his ex-wife.

“As you’ve probably guessed,” Jake gestured at himself, “I’m undercover.”

“Really?” I widened my eyes in mock astonishment. “And here I thought you’d changed fashion stylists.” I wrinkled my nose. “Or maybe just hadn’t been able to complete your usual hygiene practices.”

“Okay, if you’re not annoyed about the broken date or because I haven’t called, then why are you so pissed off?” Jake raised an eyebrow.

That was a good question. Why was I so furious at him? It wasn’t as if he hadn’t warned me that he’d be leaving Shadow Bend as soon as his leg healed. Or that I was unaware that his ex-wife was his boss. So what was my problem? Could it be guilt about Noah?

“I said I wasn’t angry and I’m not,” I insisted. “I’m just tired and confused. If you’re working a covert case, why are you here?”

“Well,” Jake drawled, “I had a chance to make a couple of personal calls this afternoon. And since I wanted to save the best for last, I decided to talk to Uncle Tony before I phoned you. But it turned out he had such a lot of interesting local news to tell me, I ran out of time.”

“So you came in person. How sweet.” Uh-oh. Tony must have done exactly what Gran had told him to do—ratted me out to Jake.

“Yeah. Wasn’t it?” Jake angled toward me so he could look me in the eye. “Uncle Tony said you and Noah Underwood have been seen together all over town. As I understand it, you went to a dance with him, then had lunch, and you even took him to a party at Boone’s. Tony is real concerned and he strongly suggested that I talk to you ASAP.”

“You knew that Noah and I had resolved our differences and that we were attempting to resurrect our past
friendship
.” I emphasized the last word and crossed my fingers that I was telling the truth.

“That’s what I told Uncle Tony,” Jake said, his expression unreadable. “But for some reason, he seemed to think it was more than that.”

“I wonder where he got that idea,” I hedged, unsure of how much Tony knew. “Gran doesn’t like Noah, so she probably exaggerated.”

“Then you didn’t go to a dance with him Saturday night?” Jake asked. His voice was casual, but the muscles in his jaw were clenched.

“That was purely business—Noah introduced me to someone who was interested in placing a large gift basket order,” I explained. “And in case you didn’t hear, Boone is under suspicion for the murder of one of his clients.” I gave Jake a quick summary of what had happened, ending with, “So both the lunch and meeting at Boone’s house were about trying to help him.”

“I’m sorry to hear that Boone is in trouble.” Jake wrinkled his brow. “He’s a nice guy. I wish I was around so I could help, too.”

“Yes, he is.” I sighed and massaged my temples. “I wish you were around, too, because I think the local PD is in way over their heads and have no idea how to investigate a murder like this one.”

“You’re probably right.” Jake scrubbed his face with his fists. “It’s quite a bit different from the crimes they usually solve.”

“Exactly.” I frowned. “I’m pretty sure that Shadow Bend’s finest usually spend Saturday nights breaking up bar fights, responding to car crashes, and arresting kids playing mailbox baseball.”

“What the hell is that?” Jake asked. “And why is it illegal?”

“Teenagers riding in the passenger seat of a car use a bat to knock over roadside mailboxes,” I clarified. “They keep score using a system similar to baseball—a point for each dent, and decapitating a mailbox is a home run. They get three strikes, and then the next guy is up to bat.”

“Sounds like a lot of fun.” Jake rolled his eyes, then slumped back in his seat. “I assume there is alcohol involved?”

I nodded, and we sat in silence. Apparently, we’d both run out of things to say. After several uncomfortable minutes, I was about to suggest we call it a night when Jake cleared his throat.

“Look, I know we never talked about not dating other people,” Jake said, then muttered, “and I don’t have any right to question you.”

“No.” I sat back, totally exhausted. “You don’t. Just like I don’t have any right to ask how things are between you and Meg.”

“And, really, we’ve only known each other a month and a half.” Jake stared out the Dodge’s cracked windshield. “So it would be silly to even consider demanding exclusivity of each other.”

“Right,” I agreed cautiously, knowing he was correct but feeling a sudden ache in my chest. “That would be really foolish.”

“I guess I wasn’t thinking straight when I dropped everything to hightail it over here because Uncle Tony had a feeling,” Jake admitted.

“Probably not.” I examined the many gauges in the dashboard.

“I may have blown my cover,” Jake mumbled. “I can’t believe I did that.”

“Oh.” I wasn’t sure how to respond. Part of me was thrilled that Jake had put our relationship ahead of his duty as a marshal. “So you drove all the way down from St. Louis to see me?”

“Uh,” Jake hesitated. “Actually, the case I’m working is in KC.”

“You never were in St. Louis, like your message said?” I fought to keep the anger out of my voice. Why did the fact that he was so damn close make it worse that he hadn’t contacted me until now?

“Yes, I was.” Jake leaned toward me, seeming to sense my resentment. “I went up there on Saturday, was briefed about the assignment, and then Meg, the team, and I came back down to Kansas City on Sunday.” He looked at his watch. “And speaking of that, I need to get back before they discover that I’m not where I should be.”

“By
they
, I take it you mean Meg?” Yes, I knew I was being bitchy and stupid, but I couldn’t help myself. Blame it on fatigue.

“No.” Jake gritted his teeth. “By
they
, I mean my new best friends—the scum-sucking drug pushers who I’m trying to get to lead me to one of the cartel bosses who skipped bail. He’s the perp I’m trying to catch.” Jake shook his head. “We have to apprehend this douche bag before he finds the witness against him and kills her.”

“Sounds important.” I reached for the door handle. “I’d better let you go.”

“Wait.” Jake grabbed both my hands and pulled me toward him.

“Why?” A shiver ran down my spine, and a flash of heat swept through my body. “You need to get back to work, and I need to get home.”

“I just . . .” He trailed off, dropping my hands to cup my cheek.

The touch of his palm against my face sent another shiver through me, and my pulse began to pound in my ears. I had to suck in a much-needed breath before I could ask, “You just what?”

“I don’t want to leave without settling something.” He stared into my eyes, and I could almost see the sexual charge zipping between us.

“Something?” I knew I sounded inane repeating his words, but, once again, I was completely ambushed by the intense attraction I felt for this guy.

“Where we stand.” He gave me a sinful smile that had doubtlessly annihilated the resistance of nearly all the other women he’d tried it on.

“I thought we had.” Sensual images zoomed through my mind, and I closed my eyes.

“Not quite.” Jake drew me into his lap—thank goodness the car was too old to have a console between the seats—and then with his lips inches from mine, he said huskily, “I want to make sure the next time you see Underwood, all you can think about is me.”

His voice washed over me like sugarcoated temptation, and my breath caught in my throat. “Oh.” It took all the breath I had to utter that one-word response.

“Yes.” His whisper was ragged, and he stroked my jaw with his thumb.

I could feel his uneven heartbeats against my palms. There was an unquestionable pull between us, and I knew I should stop this. But before I could force myself to move, Jake closed the gap between our mouths.

His kiss took my breath away, and as he licked into my mouth, I squirmed closer to him. He wrapped his arms around me, and I surrendered.

I knew that with him back on the job as a marshal and with my renewed feelings for Noah, we shouldn’t be doing this, but he was a craving that I was compelled to satisfy. I had nearly given in to my lust when a banging on the window made me jerk my head upward.

It took me a long second to understand what the blindingly bright light was, and when I did, I groaned. We had just been caught necking by Chief Eldridge Kincaid.

CHAPTER 20

C
hief Kincaid apologized for disturbing us and explained that he’d thought we were teenagers. But he couldn’t hide a slight smirk, and I was afraid that our little indiscretion would be the hot topic around the squad room coffeepot the next morning.

The police intervention had shocked both Jake and me out of lust and into our senses. Soon after the chief returned to his patrol car, I mumbled a quick good-bye, scrambled out of the Charger, and crawled into my Z4. As I watched Jake drive away, presumably heading back to Kansas City, I realized that he hadn’t said when he’d talk to me again or if he’d be coming back to Shadow Bend anytime soon. Then again, I hadn’t asked.

It was a good thing that Birdie had already turned in for the night when I got home. I was upset that I had allowed myself to get carried away with Jake, and I might have been tempted to hold her responsible for the whole shebang. After all, she
was
the one who had pushed Tony to snitch on me, which was why Jake had shown up and surprised me into acting foolishly.

With Gran already asleep, instead of yelling at her—which, let’s face it, was never a guilt-free option—I scarfed down the lasagna she’d left for me and went to bed. I blamed the pasta for causing me to toss and turn, and the restless night for causing me to oversleep the next morning. But I took full responsibility for choosing to shower, apply makeup, and do my hair rather than look for Tsar.

I paid the price for my self-indulgence at breakfast when Gran eyeballed me from head to foot, then demanded, “Why are you so gussied up? Aren’t you working at the dime store today?”

“Uh.” I took a gulp of coffee, both for the caffeine and for the time it gave me to think, then hedged, “I’m meeting Max Robinson for lunch. Remember I wanted to ask him about Elise Whitmore’s crusade to get her husband fired?” When Gran nodded, I explained, “I figured he’ll tell me more if I look attractive.”

“Humph.” Birdie raised a brow as she plopped a ladleful of oatmeal in my bowl.

I reached for the brown sugar, but she moved it from the table to the counter. Clearly, she wasn’t convinced by my excuse. I got up and silently retrieved the box, then sat back down and started to eat.