Your To Take - Connaghers 03

Chapter One

It didn’t snow very often in Dallas, Texas, but when it did,
everything came to a halt. Vicki Connagher paused at the deserted intersection.
Shivering, she drew her coat tighter with her free hand. What a stupid idea.
Since the store was only three blocks away, she’d thought she could get back
with a few groceries before the storm hit. In just a matter of minutes, though,
the sidewalks were already coated with ice.

Just one more block
, she told herself, trudging
across the slushy road. Snow still fell, thick and wet, dulling the usual
noises of the city. Hot cocoa was going to taste especially good tonight. She’d
bundle up on the couch in her favorite quilt and stay up all night watching
cheesy horror movies.
Sounds like a blast, if I wasn’t alone.

But she was miserably alone. She’d end up working downstairs
all night to avoid the emptiness of her apartment. Besides, she still had to
come up with one more evening gown design before the gala. Since her mood was
about as cheery as the Black Plague, she was going to need all the time she
could get.

Her foot slid out and she fell with a curse. Getting wetter
and colder by the minute, she muttered, “Not even chocolate is worth getting out
in a freak Texas blizzard.”

“Are you all right?”

The male voice startled her. Her heart slammed up into her
throat and she whirled around, fumbling to get her keys gripped like claws
between her fingers.

Hovering a safe distance away, the man held up both his
hands in a non-threatening manner. With the streetlight shining down on his
face, she recognized Jesse, a street artist she’d gotten to know during her law
office days at Wagner & Leeman.

Seeing him brought back all the turmoil and grief that had driven
her to quit her dream job.

It’d started innocently enough. Every time she was over by
the park for lunch, she’d stop by his favorite bench beneath the largest tree.
Handsome despite the grime, he always managed to make her smile, and she loved
his work. She’d bought several of his charcoals and dropped a few bucks in his
hat. Over the next few months, they’d talked, at first casually, but then as
the stress of her job started to get to her, she found herself talking to him
almost every day. She couldn’t get through a day at court if she didn’t take a
lunch in the park. With Jesse.

Even her friends at the office had taken note of her
“sponsorship” of the handsome young artist. It shamed her to remember how their
jokes had embarrassed her. She’d cut back on those trips to the park, although
she’d never been able to stay away for long. When she heard the horrible news
that one of her clients had gunned down a policeman, she’d run to the park.
Jesse had been there for her in a way that no one else had ever been in her
entire life.

Jesse was the only person who’d ever seen her completely
break down. Sobbing and sick with grief, she’d gone to him for comfort, and
then to her great shame, she’d never gone back to see him again. She’d been too
embarrassed that she’d let him in so deeply, a man she barely knew. A homeless
man.

Cut to the core by her shallowness, she met his gaze and
hoped he didn’t hate her. “I’m fine. Nothing hurt but my pride. How are you,
Jesse?”

“Good.” He flashed a smile—revealing killer dimples—and
helped her pick up the canned beans that had escaped her bag. “Haven’t seen you
around the park in a while.”

Not even his ragged clothes could detract from that
wholesome, down-to-earth smile and face. It’d been impossible not to like him
from the start. “I quit my job and started my own business. Corporate life got
to be too much for me.”

He handed her the last can and then shyly pulled a small
square out of his bag. “I made something for you.”

When he didn’t bring up that awful day in the park that had
driven her to quit her job, she wanted to hug him. He didn’t question or press
her for answers.
No, he made me something, instead of accusing me of turning
my back on him like so many other people must have.

Blinking back tears because she hated to cry more than
anything else, she held the folded paper up to the streetlight. On the front,
he’d used watercolors to paint dozens of butterflies, laid on top of each other
in carefully detailed layers so the entire page was covered in wings. Inside,
he’d written a simple message:
Happy birthday, Vicki
.

“Sorry, I know your birthday was months ago, but I didn’t
know where you’d gone.”

She tried to swallow the lump in her throat. “Oh, Jesse,
thank you. How did you know?”

Shrugging self-consciously, he shifted the strap of his bag
higher on his shoulder. “One of the last few times you stopped by, I overheard
you tell your friend that you were planning a special dinner with your family
for your birthday. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. Anyway, I’ve got a few new pieces
you might like. Come over to the park when you get the chance.”

“I will.” She stared down at the card, thinking about how
many weeks he’d carried it in his bag, protecting it from getting torn or
dirty, hoping to see her. He’d made her a card, when some of her best friends
hadn’t remembered her birthday at all. She’d lost more than her career. “Thank
you, Jesse. This really means a lot to me.”

He tipped his battered, lopsided straw hat, gave her another
gorgeous smile that seemed so out of place on a homeless man’s face, and turned
to head down the street. Alone. His skinny shoulders hunched against the cold.

Vicki had built in her mind all sorts of reasons of why he
was on the streets, but she’d never had the courage to ask him. He only had on
a jean jacket, no gloves, and the knapsack tossed over his shoulder, exactly
how she’d seen him countless times. Everything he owned in the world must be in
that bag.

“Jesse?”

Immediately, he turned around and came back toward her, his
eyes wide and hopeful. It was too dark to make out the remarkable turquoise
shade of his eyes, but she remembered. “Yes, ma’am?”

“Do you have someplace to go?”

“Oh, sure.” He nodded, but she didn’t like the way he ducked
his head. “Don’t worry about me. Come over to the park when you get the chance.
I miss seeing you.”

She took the last few steps toward her building, her mind
screaming all the reasons it would be stupid to ask him inside. She was alone.
He was a man, bigger and stronger than her even if she had a few years on him.
She had a damned good security system on both the shop and her apartment
upstairs, but if he chose to overpower her, she wouldn’t have a chance to call
for help.

She didn’t really know him at all. A few lunches in the
park, a couple of hours of casual talking, and one time she’d needed a
non-judgmental friend. He was homeless, for God’s sake, and had probably seen
more crime and violence than she’d even dreamed of despite working all those
years as a defense attorney. But there was something undeniable in his eyes, a
deep, soul-piercing light that she couldn’t forget. Without saying a word, he
managed to reach inside her and tug, hard, amplifying her guilt and worry.

It wasn’t her fault that he was homeless, but it would be
her fault if he froze to death tonight.
I refuse to turn my back on him ever
again.

Putting on her best formidable, cast-iron face that had
intimidated many a shady character into providing better testimony, she turned
and faced him squarely. “If you promise to behave yourself, you can come home
with me tonight.”

His eyes flared with horror and he recoiled a step, which
instantly made her feel better about asking him. His mouth opened, but it took
him several times before he could say anything. “Oh, no, ma’am. That wouldn’t
be right. I just wanted to make sure you were okay—it didn’t even occur to me
that you might… No, please, I couldn’t.”

“I couldn’t sleep a wink if you were freezing out here all
night.” She opened the door to the shop and flipped on the light. He hovered
behind her, staring at the warmth and shelter longingly. “I’m making a huge
batch of chili and cornbread.”

His shoulders shook, but he didn’t move closer.

“What I really wanted was hot cocoa. That’s why I went out
tonight before the weather got too horrible. Not cocoa from a mix or powder—I
want the real thing. I’m going to make some first.”

“With real milk?” His voice sounded hoarse. He took a step
closer, but kept his shoulders down, hunched, as though he were trying to make
himself smaller and less threatening. “And marshmallows?”

“Real milk, real chocolate,” she promised. “But I don’t have
marshmallows. I think they’re disgusting. Come on in, Jesse. I’m not the
world’s greatest cook, but I can make a mean pot of beans.”

He hung his head, one hand gripping the strap of his bag so
hard his knuckles were white. “I’ve been in trouble before, ma’am, but I
haven’t been arrested in more than five years, and I’ve been clean since. Call
one of your old contacts in the police department and check up on me.”

She was surprised at his willingness to share his unsavory
past—and a little disconcerted that he knew so much about her. “I can do that.
I should also warn you that my very mean and much bigger, older brother could
be here in minutes.”

Leading the way through the long tables stacked with fabrics
and trim, she flipped on another light.
Now I know why my security guy
insisted I have a separate system for my upstairs apartment.
“I set up this
place so that my seamstress could sleep over when we’re on a time crunch.
There’s a bed, clean linen and a full-sized bathroom.”

Jesse risked a quick glance at the room but otherwise kept
his head down, his shoulders so tight that he was as short as her, when he was
actually several inches taller. Lightly, she touched his arm. He flinched, but
at least his head came up. She was struck again by the intensity of his eyes,
so clear and honest despite the harshness of his life.

“Are you sure?” His voice shook. “I didn’t mean—”

“I’m sure.” She smiled, gently squeezing his arm. He was so
thin, just bones and tight, wiry muscle lay over the top. “Look around on the
shelves in the closet—I think I stuck some of my brother’s old clothes in
there. Take a shower and come upstairs when you’re done. I’ll have the cocoa
ready in no time.”

“My full name is Jesse Dean Inglemarre and I’m twenty-five.
Check me out. If you’re not comfortable, tell me to leave. I swear on a stack
of Bibles that I’ll leave immediately, no questions asked. I won’t ever bother
you again.”

He was several years older than she’d guessed, although
still several years younger than her. She smiled to put him at ease. It felt
right, so very, very right, to help him. “You’re not bothering me.”

Solemnly, he stared into her eyes, searching her face, even
though he didn’t ask,
Why me? Why are you doing this?

How could she explain it? Sometimes after a particularly bad
trial, the only bright spot in her day had been walking through the park to see
what new drawing he might be working on. Once he’d smiled at her, she’d found
the courage to trudge back to work. On this cold, lonely night he was a welcome
surprise. “There’s something about you, Jesse.”

Oh, there’s something about me all right
, Jesse
thought sadly, waiting until she shut the door before looking about the room.
Simple, spartan, and the most glorious thing he’d seen in years, until he found
a stack of clean clothes on the shelf. Even musty from storage, they smelled
like heaven. Then he saw the shampoo and soap in the bathroom, and he found
himself crying beneath the steaming hot water.

God, so incredible. People didn’t know what a luxury it
could be simply to be clean. To have a spare set of clean clothes. To be in a
safe enough place to risk taking off his filthy clothes and washing completely.
Bliss. Pure bliss.

It all came from the most gorgeous, unforgettable woman he’d
ever met. He had no pride left, or surely he’d be ashamed that he’d come to her
like this and she’d taken him in like an abandoned puppy. He’d depended on
seeing her every day, but then she’d quit coming to the park. She’d given him
one taste of heaven and then disappeared off the face of the earth.

He hadn’t even known her full name or where she worked. One
of the women he’d seen her with occasionally had dropped the fact that Vicki
had left the firm to start her own business down by Oak Lawn. So he’d started
hanging out in this neighborhood, hoping to find her.

Never in a million years had he thought she’d let him inside
her home. All he’d wanted to do was see her again, find her place, and maybe
stop by once a week or so, just to talk. Just to see her smile at his latest
work.

I know where to find her now.
He scrubbed his hair a
second time.
I can’t stay long. She’s sheltering me from the cold, that’s
all.

She has no idea that I’m hopelessly in love with her.

Vicki dialed the number and laid the phone down on the
counter in speaker mode. Chopping chocolate, she counted the rings. Mentally,
she rearranged her questions in the most logical order that would lead to the
best possible outcome with the least amount of suspicion.

“Reyes.”

By the sharp bark of Elias’s voice, she knew he was already
frustrated. Hell, he was always frustrated. Working on a narcotics task force
overwhelmed by the Mexican drug cartels tended to frustrate even the most
patient of men. A lot could be said about Elias Reyes, but he wasn’t exactly
patient.

She decided to be professional and not friendly. He hadn’t
been by in months, and she couldn’t remember the last time they’d had sex.
Okay, that was a lie; she’d never forget a moment with Elias, even though they’d
fought constantly about their jobs. Then his partner had been killed by one of
her old clients in a drug bust gone bad. He still hadn’t forgiven her, and
she’d found herself sobbing in the arms of a homeless man in the park instead
of her lover’s.