Slow Hands (3 page)

Keira trembled, and for a moment she couldn't catch her breath. Her mind reeled. "I wasn't even expecting to hear from him till after next week!"

Franny knew everything that happened in Keira's life, so in spite of the FBI's warning for Keira not to tell anyone, she'd told Franny. Franny had been furious, but promised to take the secret to her grave.

"No one could get a word in once Scarlet opened her mouth." Franny tugged Keira off to one side. "And believe me, I tried."

"Did he say why he's here now?"

"Shhh. No, he didn't. We'll talk later." Franny pressed a finger to her lips, then cocked her head toward the salon's main room. "Cissy's here."

Keira glanced around the salon's bright silver-and-pink interior. Two of Franny's employees were still there, but Cissy was the only customer.

"Great," Keira muttered. "Bad luck does travel in threes."

"Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in." Malice permeated the air as Cissy Odum, Scarlet's best friend and cobitch of the reunion, spotted Keira. Cissy's eyes glittered as she lifted the dryer hood. "You just missed the love reunion of the century."

"Love reunion?" Keira repeated.

Cissy sashayed over to one of the styling cubicles, where she started taking out her own rollers. "Why, Alec Dempsey and Scarlet! Guess he heard she and Jake are divorcing and knew the ten-year reunion would be a great place for him to pick up with Scarlet."

"Pick up?" Keira felt heat rising in her cheeks. Was
that
the cover he planned to use? Chasing Scarlet?

"Why else would he come back?" Cissy asked. "Scarlet was one of the few people willing to overlook his past."

By
his past,
Cissy could mean several things. In high school, Alec had a bad reputation for a short temper. He smoked, he drank, he cussed. He fought, usually in defense of his illegitimate lineage. Guys avoided him, girls swooned—much to their parents' chagrin.

"Some people were never bothered by his past to begin with," Keira shot back.

Cissy shrugged. "Personally, I always suspected he had a secret thing for Scarlet."

Franny turned on Cissy. "Alec never had a
thing
for anyone but Keira."

Cissy plunked down in the stylist chair, clearly enjoying herself. "Right. Look at her."

Keira looked down at her clothes. She was wearing canvas overalls that looked as if they hadn't been washed in a week. Her T-shirt was soaked with perspiration and smeared with dirt.

She caught her reflection in the mirror behind Cissy. Frizzy tufts of bangs stuck out from her grubby baseball cap, her red hair streaked white with plaster dust. But the worst was the thick black smear of grease across her cheek.

Keira caught Franny's gaze in the mirror and groaned. "Have I ever looked more terrible in my life?" "Yes," Franny defended.

"No," Cissy attacked simultaneously. Then she stood and started singing.
"Here she comes, Miss America."

That was the final straw. Keira opened her mouth, then closed it. She wanted to lambaste Cissy, but couldn't.

A week's worth of frustration simmered just below the surface. Hot, angry tears prickled at her eyelids. Dammit! She hadn't cried over anything in ages. And the last thing she wanted Cissy to think was that she was crying over Alec.

Franny sailed over to Cissy's side. "Too bad you have to leave. We just closed."

The other women in the shop moved up behind Keira in a show of solidarity.

Cissy pointed to her now-rollerless head in outrage. "Mabel's got to comb me out."

Franny exchanged glances with Mabel, one of the salon's other stylists.

Mabel nodded, then wrapped her arm around Keira's shoulder. Sixty-three and childless, Mabel considered Keira and Franny surrogate daughters. Her loyalties were unquestionable.

"There now," Mabel whispered. "Don't pay any attention to Cissy. You know she's just out to get your goat."

"Poor goat," Sally, the nail technician, muttered.

Mabel hugged Keira. "I'm sure there's a reason Alec's back in town."

Her sympathy upset Keira even more. While Franny knew the truth of Alec's return, no one else did, and Mabel had assumed his reappearance would devastate Keira. So much for giving her credit for being over the man.

Grabbing a comb, Franny shoved Cissy back into the chair. Keira watched as her friend ratted Cissy's hair with lightning speed, then smoothed it into a massive helmet and shellacked it with hairspray. The whole thing took less than two minutes.

Franny handed Cissy her purse and escorted her to the front door.

"I ain't paying full price for this," Cissy complained. "I took my own rollers out!"

"It's on the house." Franny slammed the door.

Mabel and Sally applauded. Franny curtsied, then immediately rushed to Keira.

"She's gone. Go ahead and bawl," Franny said, grabbing a tissue. Licking it first, she started rubbing at the grease spot.

A tear rolled down Keira's cheek, followed by another.

"Cry a little harder," Franny encouraged. "Then I won't have to spit on the tissue again."

"I'm not crying," Keira sniffed.

Mabel started clucking. "Of course you're not. There's not a man on this earth who's worth getting upset over."

"Stan is," Sally chirped.

They all gave her a look, but not too harsh. Sally and Stan were getting married soon, and Sally's only dilemma in life was deciding what mints to have at her reception.

"All men suck except Stan," Mabel corrected. "And of course, my Fred."

"Darryl's pretty sweet, too," Franny chimed in.

Keira scowled, snatching a tissue to blow her nose. "Thanks! Next you'll tell me how good you thought he looked."

Everyone grew quiet.
Guilty.

"Okay, I admit it. My eyes weren't complaining." Mabel patted her arm. “Course I know you'd feel better if he'd gone to seed. Was missing a few teeth and most of his hair."

Sally nodded. "Yeah. And remember—looks aren't everything. He could be gorgeous but impotent."

Keira rolled her eyes, then looked at Franny, knew her friend would tell her everything later. But she couldn't wait. "Did he say anything?"

"Not much. Said he got discharged from the army a few months ago. Been in some kind of accident," Franny said.

"Grenade exploded," Mabel confirmed.

An explosion? Keira shivered, closing her eyes. How many times had she wished him dead? The grenade could have killed him, and she'd have never known.

Remorse swamped her—until she reminded herself the story probably wasn't true.

Alec worked for the FBI. She knew he had to concoct some sort of cover story—Agent Ostman had told her as much. Of course, he'd also told her she'd be fully briefed before Alec arrived.
Lying bastard.

"Guess Alec wants a quiet place to recuperate," Sally offered. "Said he's had enough of big-city life."

Franny squeezed her shoulder. "You okay?"

Keira shook her head, motioned at her filthy overalls. "On top of everything else, he would have to catch me looking like this."

"Then after the dance we'll make a point of looking him up," Franny said. "We'll check all the motels, find out where he's staying—"

"I'm not going to the dance," Keira interrupted.
"He'll
be there. Scarlet invited him."

"That's perfect!"

"No. It's not."

"Do you want him to think you're hiding from him? Ha!" Franny frowned, eyes narrowed. She reached around and grabbed the thick braid of hair trailing down Keira's back. "I've got a better idea."

Franny snapped her fingers, pointing at Mabel. "Nine-one-one. Lock the doors and pull the shades. It's fairy godmother time."

Mabel grinned, then saluted. "I'll heat the wax."

Sally started shaking bottles of nail polish while she called her fiancée to let him know she was working late.

Franny pushed Keira toward the staircase to her apartment. "Hit the shower, girlfriend. Then throw on a robe and get back down here, fast. Mark my words, we will rule at the dance tonight."

"Sock hop," Mabel scolded. "It's a fifties theme. Remember?"

Keira's frown deepened. "I don't know—" "What's not to know?" Franny stuck her fist on her hip, shook her platinum blond head. "He caught you off guard. Tonight you'll be prepared. In control."
In control.
Keira's motto.

She looked down at her clothes. If she could turn back time, Alec wouldn't have caught her off guard this afternoon.

If she could turn back time, Alec wouldn't have done a lot of things.

Her choices were simple. Run and hide. Or face the enemy.

She straightened. She'd never run a day in her life.

"But my poodle skirt." Keira glanced at her watch. "It's at my apartment."

"Fuck the poodle skirts." Franny started plugging in banks of hot curlers. "This is war."

Chapter Two

Alec
stood inside the high school gymnasium.

It looked like a crepe paper factory had exploded. Blue and gold, the school colors, covered everything. Chairs, tables, walls. Little had escaped. Aside from that—and all the goddamned balloons—the place hadn't changed since he had graduated twelve years prior.

It was still a backwoods school in a Podunk town. A place to hurry up and leave before it grabbed you by the throat and slowly strangled the life from you.
What the hell am I doing back here?

A banner sagged overhead.
Welcome home, Senior Class.
He ignored it. This wasn't his class. This wasn't his home. He didn't feel welcome.

In fact, being there gave him the creeps.
Deja fucking vu.
He frowned, recalling his wild high school years. His less-than-sterling reputation. His longing to get away from the oppressive atmosphere of small-town life, of people who looked down on him.

Freedom was the butt end of the world. If you stayed there, you either faced a career as an assembly line worker at the bait factory or you commuted a long drive to Hot Springs for construction work. He did the latter for two years. Hated it. He'd wanted to see the world. He'd wanted to forge his own path.

Had he?

He'd seen the world and had forged several different paths. First, there had been the army. And a hard-earned college degree. Then he'd joined ATF. But only now did he realize he still hadn't found what he was looking for. Realized he'd given up looking.

Uneasy with his retrospection, he checked his watch.

The dance had started thirty minutes ago.

Where was Keira?

He frowned at the gym's entrance and reminded himself, again, that this wasn't about her. It was about his assignment. He'd come to Freedom for one reason, and when that was over, he'd leave.

The lie stuck in his craw. It had been about her since Agent Phelps first mentioned Freedom.

Keira.

He thought back to their meeting earlier that afternoon. She clearly hadn't expected to see him this soon. Hell, he was supposed to be on vacation another week.

But he knew he needed to talk to her up front and off the record. Settle the unsettled business between them.
Pay the piper.
God knows he owed her that much.

If Scarlet hadn't stopped him outside of Franny's, he'd have missed Keira. He'd spotted her first, had expected her surprise. Hell, he'd even expected her anger.

What he hadn't expected was the fierce body rush at seeing her again. In those first moments, he realized that while he'd dated a lot of women—hell, he'd even been married— no female had ever affected him like she had. Had ever left him feeling weak in his knees and groin.

The memory of loving her came back just as sharply as if he'd left her bed yesterday. So, too, the memory of having hurt her.

Seeing her again brought it all back—the joy, the pain. The regret. Jesus, he'd screwed up. Should have resolved this a long time ago.

The disc jockey announced a slow song by the Platters.

Alec searched the gym one last time. Scarlet would be wrapping up her hostess duties shortly and would come looking for him.

He reminded himself he had to play nice with Scarlet. After all, she had invited him to the dance. But he'd also caught the predatory gleam in Scarlet's eyes, noticed it heightened in Keira's presence.

Scarlet hadn't changed. She and Keira had been fierce rivals in high school.

He knew her friend, Cissy, had started the rumor that Alec had returned to see Scarlet, a lie he let stand for the moment because it gave him a fallback position. And with it, no one questioned his presence at the dance.

But there was only one person Alec wanted to see. And she foolishly thought she could avoid him. Damn it, he'd go looking for her. The town wasn't so big she could hide for long.

Impatient, he headed for the exit. Halfway there he caught sight of Franny and her boyfriend, Darryl. Franny was Keira's best friend. She'd know where Keira was.

At that moment, one of the front doors opened.

Alec turned back, looking up just as Keira slipped in. Alone.

His heart flat-lined. His field of vision narrowed as his eyes played over her, starting at her toes and working their way up.

Her feet were encased in come-on shoes: black with stiletto heels, buckled at the ankle. She wore sheer, sparkling nylons that disappeared beneath a short hemline. The short hernline of a black, body-hugging dress that was probably illegal in some states.

Her shoulders were bare, exposing creamy skin and a generous bosom. He wondered what she wore underneath. Nothing?
In his dreams.
More than likely a strapless black lace teddy.

Sexy underwear had always been Keira's paean to her femininity. Years ago, when they'd both worked construction in high school, it had driven Alec crazy to see her at a job site, knowing she wore something utterly naughty beneath her flannel shirt and jeans. Vixen that she was, she'd sometimes whisper hints at break, or worse, flash her pointed nipples, leaving him to fight a hard-on till quitting time. Then he'd make her pay ...

He stared, caught himself drooling. Her hair, free of the braid and clean, hung down one side to her waist in a shimmery mass of red curls. God, he loved her hair, remembered the feel of it in his hands, trailing across his body.

For a moment time reversed. They were at Keira's senior prom. Graduation was six weeks away, and he couldn't wait any longer. He'd heard about a job in St. Louis, was sick to death of the dingy boardinghouse in Hot Springs he called home.

He'd been on his knees, begging. Scared to death she'd refuse.
Come on, babe. Say yes. We'll move to St. Louis. We '11 get married. Hell, I love you, Keira.

He'd lied. He'd left town, promised to come back the next morning... and never returned. Prodigal bastard.

He watched as she turned, realized she was getting ready to bolt. Moving swiftly, he took the stairs two at a time, startling her when he reached for her hand.

"Hello, Keira." His eyes caught, held hers.

What he saw threw him. Cool, clear, confidence radiated from her deep green eyes. Nothing else.

He'd expected contempt. Accusation. Had deserved no less. He'd been prepared to fight with her, been prepared to make excuses. Now he simply wanted to beg. For forgiveness ... or for mercy?

That afternoon she'd reminded him of the girl he'd left behind. Feisty. Determined. A starry-eyed eighteen-year-old who needed him.

Tonight she reminded him she was tough. And smart. And capable. Major turn-ons. She was pure woman, more potent than ever. Moreover, she needed no one.

Least of all him. The thought jarred.

He pulled her hand to his mouth, brushed a kiss across her knuckles, then turned it over, and uncurled her tight fist to press yet another kiss to the center of her palm.

"You look stunning," he said finally.

For a moment Keira felt glad she'd come to the dance. She and Franny had pulled out all the stops, dusted off every trick in the vamp book. Damage Control 101.

Franny had been right. The look of sheer male appreciation on Alec's face was worth the effort. Vindication was sweet. Maybe not quite as satisfying as full-blown revenge, but a great first course.

Then Alec kissed her hand, and she remembered how hazardous electricity was, remembered how she'd almost perished all those years ago. She had planned to play up to him tonight. Flirt. String him along, then crush him. Tell him exactly what she thought of him for leaving all those years ago.

Except... well, now, this whole charade seemed like a bad idea.

The last thing she wanted was for Alec to think she carried a torch for him. That she hadn't gotten over him. She had. He was nothing to her.

She took a step away and started down the steps. "Good evening, Alec."

Alec knew he'd rattled her icy poise by kissing her hand, wondered what she would have done had he kissed her lips. Wondered if
he
could have handled that.

He took her arm. "Allow me."

Once again, she struggled to free herself. Once again, she lost. "Let me go!" she hissed.

"I was afraid you'd chickened out."

"Chickened out of what?"

"Coming here. Tonight. Knowing I'd be here."

It irked her he assumed his presence mattered. Granted, she hadn't expected him early, but she'd known since talking with the FBI that Alec would be returning.

"You think your being here bothers me?" She tried once more to disentangle her arm.

"I think it scares you."

"I'm not afraid of anything. Least of all you." She lightly kicked at his shin, then jerked free.

Alec chuckled, dropping down a step in front of her, blocking her flight. She was still tiny as hell, scarcely five-foot-four. And he'd baited her on purpose, just to ruffle her feathers. See if she was still beautiful when mad. "You haven't changed."

Keira locked eyes with him, annoyed she still had to peer up to meet his dark gaze, annoyed he was still so fine-looking it hurt to see him.
Annoyed her heart felt like it could break in all the same places.
"We've both changed."

Scarlet Chambeau moved in, hooking her arm in Alec's. Keira eyed the woman's poodle skirt. Not to be outdone, Scarlet had three poodles decorating her felt skirt.

"I'm here to claim my dance." Scarlet pouted, tugging his forearm. She looked at Keira. "He promised."

Keira smiled coldly. "You're welcome to him. Not sure he's got a grasp on keeping promises, though."

Spinning on her heels, Keira turned and headed for where Franny and Darryl sat. Franny high-fived Darryl and pushed to her feet.

"You looked like Cinderella arriving at the ball," Franny gushed. "Everyone stared. Scarlet turned pea green. The DJ even missed his cue and let the music stop. Am I a freaking genius, or what?"

Ever the gentleman, Darryl stood, holding Keira's chair. She brushed a kiss to his cheek.

Darryl and Franny had dated since high school. Darryl, a lanky, blond fireman, worshiped the ground Franny walked above. They'd marry eventually, Keira knew, though Franny claimed the sex was too good to bother with making it legal. For a moment, Keira envied them.

When Darryl left in search of drinks, Franny huddled closer. "Everything okay?"

"Sure. My stomach is rolling around on the floor somewhere, but other than that, I'm fine."

Franny patted her arm. "You sure you're up to this?"

Keira took a breath, held it, reminding herself of why she had agreed to go along with the FBI's plan.
To protect her grandfather.
She knew too well what monstrosities Ian Griggs was capable of.

She exhaled. "No, I'm not sure I'm up to it. Which doesn't matter." This wasn't about hearts that were broken long ago. It was about the very real threat her grandfather faced here and now.

"Did he say why he showed up early?"

Keira shook her head.
The million-dollar question.
"He didn't say and I didn't ask."

"Bet he's singing the blues now, after seeing you in that getup."

Keira doubted it. He was center court, with Scarlet, on the dance floor.

She frowned, reminded herself she could care less.

Darryl returned and handed each woman a tall Dixie cup. Keira took a sip and erupted into a coughing fit.

He grinned. "Three people have spiked the punch so far."

Franny tried it, then smacked her lips in approval. "Whoa! A girl could get a little crazy on this."

"I'm designated driver," Darryl murmured, sweeping his lips across Franny's. "Knock yourself out."