On Pins and Needles (10 page)

“What will you be doing tomorrow while I'm trying to reach my parents again?” she asked then.

“Why, will you miss me?” he teased.

“No, I'm watch-dogging you to make sure you pay close enough attention to other leads, remember?”

“I remembered, I was just hoping for more,” he said, feigning disappointment that she hadn't played along. But since she hadn't he conceded and answered her question about what he would be doing the next day. “My full agenda is to review and organize all the notes I took during yesterday's inter views to make sure I didn't overlook anything. I'll be calling the people who actually made some sense to ask if they remember the name Pete Chaney. Plus I'm going to make copies of everything to give to my superior just to let him see that I'm as much on top of this as I can be. And I'm doing it all
from home to avoid being distracted by drop-ins at the office. You won't be missing anything.”

Except being with him.

But she didn't say that either. She knew she shouldn't have even thought it.

They'd reached her front door by then but neither of them made a move to open it. Instead they stood in the dim glow of the porch light, face to face, and only separated by a scant foot of empty space.

“Just concentrate on getting through to your parents and don't worry about watch-dogging me for a day,” Josh said in conclusion.

His voice was more quiet all of a sudden and there was some thing about it, some thing about the way he was looking at her, that made Megan feel as though his eyes were holding hers, that made thinking coherently seem like a struggle.

Well, not thinking about everything. It wasn't a struggle to think about him. To revel in the sight of broad shoulders and a face as handsome as any she'd ever seen. To wonder if he might kiss her again. To want him to so much it was like a desert thirst…

But kissing was a bad idea and she knew it. She really did. She knew it.

Yet still her gaze slipped from Josh's midnight-blue eyes down his straight, thin nose to those lips that had touched hers so briefly the night before and the thirst only grew stronger to feel them pressed to hers again.

And then he leaned slightly forward, pulled away and leaned forward once more—all without actually coming close enough to kiss her but obviously with that intent,
allowing her the opportunity to escape before he did, if she was so inclined.

But the only thing she was inclined to do was stay where she was to have him kiss her. Bad idea or not. So she tipped her chin up just a fraction of an inch to let him know she was willing. Hoping it didn't seem eager even though that's just what she was.

Josh read the signal. He leaned the rest of the way in and did kiss her.

Not so short this time,
she mentally beseeched, worrying that it might be just another hit-and-run kiss like the one from the previous evening.

But it wasn't just another hit-and-run kiss. This time he stayed long enough for her to actually experience the gentleness of his mouth against hers.

To experience it and savor it.

His lips were smooth, parted just so. He knew the exact moment to deepen the kiss, to move in a sexy little circle that was enticing enough to draw her to her toes for more.

He tasted spicy, probably from the snicker doodles Mabel had served for dessert, and his breath on her cheek was deliciously warm.

Megan loved the scent of his after shave and she began to feel swept away by that kiss, wonderfully disconnected from everything but Josh, from the investigation and the suspicions of her parents, from the whole rest of the world.

The only things missing were his arms around her or the touch of his hands, the chance to be up against
him, her straining breasts melding with those impressive pectorals of his.

But not only didn't she get any of that, about the time she was thinking about it, craving it the most, Josh ended the kiss. And even though it was more than the hit-and-run kiss of the previous evening, it was still over before she wanted it to be.

But at least tonight he didn't act as if it were out of his control. Tonight, when he stopped kissing her, he went back to looking into her eyes, to bathing her in that hot honey gaze as if he were committing her face to memory.

“I'll talk to you tomorrow,” he said then.

Megan could only nod as she fought to regain herself, to bounce back from that kiss when what she really wanted to do was melt into his arms so he could kiss her again. So he could go on kissing her all night long. Or until she'd had her fill.

If she could ever
get
her fill…

But then he just said good-night and returned to his patrol car, leaving her there to watch him go and bite her tongue to keep from begging him to stay.

He waved one big hand at her before he ducked into the driver's seat, re started the engine and pulled away, but only after his tail lights nearly disappeared into the distance did Megan realize she hadn't answered his wave with one of her own.

She'd just stood there, watching him. Wanting him. Too weak from that kiss, too lost in its lingering effects, to do anything but stand there in a daze. A daze of longing for more.

But then she yanked herself back to reality and finally turned to go inside.

And as she did she couldn't help wishing that things were different.

Until she reminded herself that that wish was why she couldn't make a go of any kind of personal relationship with Josh no matter how attracted she might be to him.

Because that wish that
things
were different led to the wish that
people
were different. It led to trying to change those people rather than accepting them the way they were.

And that, Megan knew better than anyone, was just a disaster waiting to happen.

T
HE NEXT DAY WAS
a red-letter day for Megan. It began with a call from a woman named Clair Winston for an appointment for an acupuncture treatment.

Nissa had met Clair at the Ladies' League dinner. Clair suffered from chronic back pain and while Nissa's massage therapy had helped somewhat, Clair had taken Nissa's recommendation that she see Megan for acupuncture.

“I was hoping you could fit me in today. I'm just so miserable,” Clair said.

Megan smiled to herself and refrained from letting the woman know that she didn't have a single client yet, making the appointment for one that afternoon.

“Finally!” Megan rejoiced when she hung up, heading for her closet for good first-impression clothes.

She opted for a high-waisted denim dress that buttoned down the front, a pair of navy-blue tights and navy-blue clogs to go with them.

She pulled the sides of her hair to her crown and tied them in a knot, letting the ends spike off to one side. Then she pinched her cheeks, applied her henna
mascara, and finished with multiple strands of beaded bracelets on both wrists.

Through it all Josh wasn't too far from her mind, though, and before she left for the office she put in another call to her parents, stressing that it was urgent that she speak to them. Speaking to them would give her an excuse to talk to Josh—and maybe see him—today. And while she told herself and told herself that that was unwise, that she should be looking for ways to avoid him—particularly after that kiss the previous evening and what it had done to her—she still couldn't help the bubble of hope that she wouldn't go a full day without contact with him.

With the message left for her parents, she for warded her calls to the office phone and went there.

Clair Winston turned out to be a seventy-five-year-old woman with more bald spots than patches of hair. Megan spent nearly forty-five minutes talking with her about her back problems and a slew of other health issues she had, and then did the treatment.

The treatment turned out to be a good start for Megan because Clair felt so much better afterwards that she marveled at her own improvement and told Megan she couldn't wait to tell the girls in her bridge club. And a word-of-mouth endorsement was better than any amount of advertising.

When Clair left the office, Megan put in another call to her folks, thinking that when she spoke to them she could let them know that not only was Nissa getting business off the ground, but now so was she.

About four o'clock that afternoon those phone calls
finally paid off, too. Just as Megan was considering returning home the phone on her desk rang.

She knew the moment she picked up that it would be her parents on the other end because what she heard when she first held the receiver to her ear was so much static it sounded like someone crumpling tissue paper into the mouth piece.

“Nissa? Is that you?” her father shouted from who-knew-where.

“No, Dad, it's Megan,” she shouted in response.

“…bad connection…storm here…said it was an emergency…”

“We have a problem, Dad,” Megan said, going on to explain as briefly—and as loudly—as she could what was going on.

“Pete Chaney?” her father repeated when she was finished. “…knew him. He was someone who just passed through town, looking for work.”

The static suddenly stopped, leaving her father sounding as if he were talking to her from too much distance from a speaker phone. But at least she could hear every word now so he was easier to under stand.

“So you did know Pete Chaney?” Megan asked for clarification now that none of his words were being lost.

“We hired him to help close up the farm. He worked during the day, when you girls were in school. He was a little odd and we didn't want him to be around you kids. But he was alive and well the last time I saw him.”

“Could he have waited until we left town and then made himself at home in the house?”

“We offered to let him use the place after we were gone but he said he didn't want to. Said he didn't like to stay in one place too lo—”

A burst of static so loud it hurt Megan's ear caused her to flinch away from the phone. But it was gone when she held it to her ear once more.

Her father was in the middle of saying, “…quite a story teller.”

“Speaking of which, did he say anything about having some kind of valuable coins?”

“Two solid gold doubloons,” her father confirmed. “He said he could sell them at any time and make himself a rich man. But I never saw them myself. I doubt they existed. Pete was a few cards short of a deck. He also claimed to remember the Spanish Inquisition from his own experience in a past life.”

“But he was definitely alive and well when we left Elk Creek?”

“We passed him walking south on the main road as we were leaving. You girls thought he was a hobo.”

Megan had no memory of that but it was hardly monumental enough to have stuck in her mind. Unfortunately. Maybe if it had it would help convince Josh of her parents' innocence.

More static assaulted Megan's hearing and this time even when it eased up enough to hear her father again it didn't disappear entirely. Once more she was only getting portions of what he said.

“…wasn't buried in the backyard, that's for sure.”

“Dad, I have one more question and then I have to give you the name and number of the sheriff here. You
need to get hold of him and let him inter view you or they're talking about trying to have you and Mom taken off the ship and extradited.”

“Extradited? That's a bunch of cra—”

“Dad? Dad? Are you there?”

The static was so bad that Megan had to hold the phone away from her ear again.

When she could bear to have it closer, she repeated, “Dad? Are you still there?”

“…try to call…when the storm's…”

And that was that.

The static was suddenly silenced and the call disconnected, and Megan was left without any reason to give Josh as to why her parents hadn't sold the farm when they'd left Elk Creek or where they'd gotten the money to begin their travels. Plus she hadn't given her father enough information to contact Josh, which Josh also wasn't going to be happy about.

But there wasn't anything else she could do.

Except stop by his house on her way home to tell him what little she
had
learned from the call.

 

If Megan had been asked to describe the Brimley house from memory she wouldn't have been able to. But once she had it in her sights she recognized it.

It was a two-story square clap board box, the upper level the same size as the lower level. The roof helped distinguish it. It was steep and shingled in black, dropping eaves over three windows in the second story and echoed in a matching overhang below those windows to provide cover for a wrap-around porch.

A big old farm house was what it was. Nothing fancy, but well-kept with its white paint pristine and black shutters on either side of the front door and all the windows.

Megan particularly liked the homey touches in the twin carriage lamps that deco rated the shutters that bracketed the front door, the planters that hung in the middle of each section of the cross-bucked railing that boarded the porch, and the spindled benches and high-backed rocking chairs just waiting for a cool breeze on a hot summer's evening.

As Megan pulled up in the circular drive where Josh's patrol car was parked, he came out the front door. But it was apparent that he hadn't heard or seen her approach because as he came down the porch steps his expression went from curious to surprised when he realized she was behind the wheel.

Then he paused for a bout of violent sneezing that didn't conclude until Megan had turned off the engine.

Or at least she thought the bout of sneezing had concluded. But he paused again two paces from the foot of the steps to sneeze several more times.

As he did Megan took in the sight of him. He wasn't dressed the way he had been any of the other times she'd seen him—in blue jeans and either a plain shirt or his uniform shirt. Instead he looked as if he were headed for an evening out. As if for a casual date.

He had on a nicer-than-usual pair of cowboy boots, black jeans and a crisp white shirt emblazoned with a red-and-black design that rode his broad shoulders like
saddle bags and ended in points over each impressive pectoral. Plus he looked freshly showered and shaved—so freshly that his hair was still a tiny bit damp where the late-day, waning April sun glistened off it.

A date. A casual date. That initial thought replayed itself in Megan's mind. Could that be what he was about to embark on?

She hated how that idea made her feel. She hated it all the more because she knew it shouldn't bother her in the slight est.

But oh, did it bother her!

Who could he be going out with? she wondered. He hadn't mentioned that he was seeing someone. But then, why would he have? It wasn't as if they'd been dating them selves. Or even on a single date—regardless of how the evenings they'd spent together might have seemed. But he
had
kissed her.

And what was he doing kissing her if he was involved with someone else?

Seeing
someone else.
Dating
someone else.
Involved
with someone else. This was getting worse and worse in her mind with each passing moment. It was certainly making her feel worse and worse. But she couldn't help it.

Any more than she could help the sudden urge to restart her engine and just drive away. To force Josh to track her down to get the information he wanted from her. To make him work for it. If she gave it at all…

But even as she entertained the possibility, she knew she was being unreasonable. She didn't have any claim on him, kisses or no kisses. They weren't an item, let
alone an exclusive item. And for all she knew, those kisses hadn't meant anything. They could just have been flukes. Spur-of-the-moment impulses.
Meaningless
spur-of-the-moment impulses…

That didn't help lift her spirits any and again she considered a fast getaway.

But then Josh got his sneezing under control and waved to her, and she knew she had to go through with this in spite of everything.

But why did he have to look so appealing as he came around his car and leaned his hips against the fender that faced her, waiting for her to join him? Why did every gesture have to be so sexy as he slipped his hands half-in, half-out of his pockets and stretched his long, thick legs into a lazy angle before he crossed them at the ankles?

And he was smiling, too. As if he were happy to see her. As if he didn't feel the tiniest hint of guilt for kissing her last night and dating someone else tonight.

Megan tried to steel herself and got out of her car, holding her head high and swearing she would not let him see how much this turn of events disturbed her.

“Hi,” Josh greeted her, making it sound as if he were pleased that she was there.

“Hello,” Megan answered coolly, aloofly, formally.

So coolly, aloofly and formally that it made Josh's brow wrinkle up in what appeared to be confusion.

“I didn't realize you might be on your way out. That you had plans,” Megan added, her gaze dropping to his clothes and back to his achingly-handsome face again.

“I was on my way to look for you. That was my only plan,” he said simply enough.

“All dressed up like that?” she demanded before she knew she was going to.

Josh glanced down at himself as if he wasn't sure what she was talking about. “Dressed like what?”

There was no way she was going to admit she'd thought he was dressed for a date so she said, “Out of uniform.”

But it was feeble and they both knew it.

His greeting smile stretched into a grin and he said, “What did you think? That you'd just caught me headed for a hot night on the town with my harem?”

“Of course not,” she said, trying to cover her tracks.

But he still saw through her.

“You did, didn't you? You thought I was on my way to see someone else of the female persuasion. And you didn't like it much.” He chuckled to himself. “This is great. I love it.”

Megan rolled her eyes, still trying for spin control. “Right. I couldn't stand the idea. I was green with envy.”

“I think you were,” he accused, laughing delightedly now.

“Think whatever you like,” she said as if she were bored with the whole topic.

“I will.”

Megan might have been more irritated by his pleasure except that it occurred to her then that not only had she been wrong about him going out on a date with someone
else, but he'd decked himself out like that to go looking for her. And that helped soothe her ruffled feathers consider ably.

“Is that why you came over here?” Josh asked then. “To check up on me?”

Megan finally managed to laugh and that went a lot further in sounding unperturbed than anything she'd at tempted yet. “I came to tell you that I talked to my father, but if your ego is so huge that you want to think of me as your stalker, go ahead.”

This time she must have convinced him because he said, “Sure, ruin all my fun.” Then he gave in and got down to business. “So you talked to your father. How come I haven't?”

“Apparently there was a terrible storm wherever he was calling from because it was a really bad connection. I could barely hear him and just when I was about to give him your name and number we were cut off.”

Josh held up one index finger as a sign for her to wait while he sneezed again. Twice.

“Gesundheit,” Megan responded before going on. “I did find out a few things, but maybe we should go some where else to talk so you can concentrate.”

“I'm concentrating just fine,” he said, his tone laced with innuendo as his gaze remained intently on her. “Just tell me what your father had to say.”