Witness Seduction

He had that chiseled kind of face you expected to see on a movie screen, lines and angles put together to create a rugged landscape, vivid eyes the color of the Pacific Ocean. A pair of faded jeans clung to his long legs and taut behind, while a navy-blue T-shirt emphasized a broad chest and delicious set of rippled abs.

No doubt about it, this was one ridiculously gorgeous man.

Her heart did a few somersaults. “Thanks for catching me,” she said.

“No problem.” He took a step backward, looking like he couldn’t wait to get out of here. “Be more careful next time, all right?” Another step. “I’ll see you around.”

“Wait, who did you say you were again?”

“I’m Caleb Ford.” His blue eyes flickering with weariness, he extended his hand. “I’m renting the house next door to yours.” As if to confirm it, he gestured to the redbrick side wall of the Strathorn house.

Since he was sticking his hand out at her, she had no choice but to shake it. The moment they touched, warmth suffused her palm, followed by a spark of awareness. Gosh, this guy was attractive. The messy black hair, the serious blue eyes, the drool-worthy bod. And his hand felt good on hers. Too good.

She quickly snatched it away, leery of the awareness sliding around in her body. Fine, so this guy was incredibly handsome, but he was also a total stranger. And the Strathorns hadn’t told her they were renting their place out for the summer. She knew they were in Europe—they’d asked her to pick up their mail. So why hadn’t they mentioned someone named Caleb Ford would be staying in their house?

“How do you know the Strathorns?”

Her voice held a note of suspicion, which she didn’t attempt to hide. Since her experience with Patrick, she was far more careful about handing out her trust to strangers.

“Through a mutual friend. I heard they were going to Europe for a few months, so my friend arranged for me to rent this place while they’re gone.”

“Oh, that’s convenient.” She casually pushed a strand of blond hair off her forehead. Her ponytail had pretty much come apart after her near fall, and unruly blond waves kept getting in her eyes. “Isn’t Stan and Debbie’s house terrific? They have a lot of antiques in there.”

Caleb arched one dark brow. “Stu and Debbie, you mean.”

“Right, Stu, I don’t know why I said Stan.” She felt a little flustered, especially when a knowing glint filled his eyes. He knew exactly what she’d tried to do, but hey, at least he’d passed the test. So why was he still all fidgety?

“When did you say you moved in?” she asked, watching him carefully.

“I didn’t. But it’s been a week.”

A week? And she hadn’t seen him even once? She tried to rein in her misgivings. Okay, so maybe he didn’t leave the house a lot. He could be one of those hermit types who liked being alone indoors.

“And you’re here for the summer?” she said, trying to sound casual.

“Yep.”

“On vacation?” she pressed.

“Work-related, actually.”

For Pete’s sake, getting answers from this man was like pulling teeth. She paused for a second, trying to concoct a way to draw some more details out of him, when a flash of red caught her eye. She glanced down, surprised to see an angry-looking scrape on her upper arm. She must have cut herself when she’d grabbed for the ledge, or maybe on her way down into Caleb’s arms.

“Shoot, I should get this cleaned up,” she said.

“Do you need any help?”

His voice was so full of reluctance she almost felt insulted. Jeez, was the thought of spending even a few more minutes with her that unappealing?

She frowned. “I’m a nurse, I can take care of it. But thanks.”

Caleb slung his hands in the pockets of his jeans, shifting awkwardly. “You better go in and get that taken care of. Are you sure you didn’t hurt yourself anywhere else?”

She examined her arms and legs, then flexed her back, wincing when a jolt of pain sliced up her left shoulder. “I think I pulled a muscle,” she answered, “but it’s nothing some yoga can’t fix this evening.”

Caleb coughed abruptly.

“Are you okay?” she asked, wrinkling her brow.

“Yeah, I’m, uh, fine.” He began to inch away again. Lord, the way this guy acted, it was as if she was carrying the Ebola virus or something. “I really do have to go. Take care of yourself, uh…?”

“Marley,” she supplied.

“Marley,” he echoed. He lifted his hand, giving a stilted wave and a brisk nod, and then hurried off with long, smooth strides.

She watched as he walked away, shaking her head to herself. He disappeared around the side of the house and a few moments later, she heard the Strathorns’ front door shut.

Okay. Well, that was kind of weird. He was probably telling the truth, and really was renting the house next door, but maybe she ought to call the number Debbie had left for her just to make sure Caleb Ford was who he said he was. He’d been acting a little odd for her liking.

Yeah, she definitely should call, she decided as she bent down to take care of the ladder. She pushed it to the wall, leaning it length-wise against the house, then glanced down at her arm, which was beginning to ooze blood.

With a sigh, she headed into the house, making a mental note to contact Debbie Strathorn as soon as possible. Caleb Ford might be drop-dead gorgeous, but he was still a stranger.

And these days, Marley’s guard went on high alert when it came to sexy men who made her heart skip a beat.

A girl couldn’t be too cautious, after all.

“SO…WHAT WAS THAT ABOUT?”

Caleb nearly tripped over his own feet at the sound of AJ’s voice. He’d expected to find the master bedroom empty, but AJ was casually sitting at the desk, sipping from a tall Starbucks cup.

With his military-style buzz cut, tattooed arms and black leather jacket, Adam James Callaghan looked like the type of guy Caleb would be slapping handcuffs on and dragging to jail.

But AJ was a damn good agent, a bit of a legend around the Drug Enforcement Agency. He’d spent three years undercover with a Colombian drug cartel, which was how he’d gotten all the tattoos. Had to prove himself, show he was one of them, AJ had told Caleb. He’d also managed to gather enough evidence to take down the entire organization. But now he was stateside, assigned as Caleb’s new partner.

Caleb walked over to the desk and peered at the monitors, instantly spotting Marley in the kitchen. She was pulling a first-aid kit out of the cupboard under the sink.

“What was what about?” he asked, absently reaching for one of the steaming cups sitting in the cardboard tray on the desk.

AJ shot him a look loaded with disbelief. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. I come back from a coffee run to find—”

“You came in from the back, right?” Caleb cut in.

“Yes, I came in from the back. Same way I’ve been coming in for the past week. And yes, I parked the car two streets over. And no, nobody saw me when I cut through the park on my way here.” AJ frowned. “Now quit interrogating me and tell me what the hell you were thinking, making contact with Kincaid.”

Caleb walked over to the king-size bed and sank down onto the edge. “She fell off a ladder.”

AJ swiveled his chair around to face him. “She fell off a ladder,” he repeated.

“Yes, but she managed to hang on to the roof. She would have fallen off that, too, if I hadn’t gone out to help her.” The defensive note in his voice made him want to cringe, but he knew AJ’s thoughts on the subject of Marley Kincaid. And none of them were too positive.

AJ put down his coffee cup in obvious annoyance. “Just in case you’ve forgotten, we’re on a stakeout, man. The whole point of a stakeout is remaining out of sight, inconspicuous.”

“I know that,” Caleb ground out. “But what did you want me to do, watch her tumble to her death?”

“What I want you to do is focus on the bastard that killed one of our own.” AJ frowned. “I’ve seen the way you look at her, Caleb, and I don’t particularly like it, all right? She might very well be helping Grier and you know it.”

“Yes, and she might not be helping him,” Caleb countered, meeting his partner’s hard gaze with one of his own.

“Then explain the hundred grand that was wired into her bank account after the DEA got the tip that Grier was heading to San Diego.”

“It was a joint account, you know that. Grier could’ve made the deposit as easily as Kincaid.”

“And she has no knowledge of what’s going on in her own bank accounts? If a hundred thousand dollars mysteriously wound up in my account, I’d be talking to the bank, or calling the cops. Unless I know my slime-bag ex put it in there, and I’m planning on helping him get out of the country.”

Caleb’s jaw tightened at the thought of Grier taking off and disappearing. Oh, no, not happening. Caleb would catch the son of a bitch long before that happened. The DEA finally had hard evidence on the guy, after years of being unable to bring charges against the supposed web designer. Three months ago, an informant inside the Ruiz cartel—the Brazilian outfit they’d been trying to bust for years—had provided information about a shipment Grier was scheduled to distribute for the Ruizes.

Only, the raid they’d organized hadn’t gone as planned, and Grier had yet again escaped arrest.

“If she’s helping Grier, we’ll find out,” Caleb replied. “All I’m saying is that we shouldn’t jump to conclusions. Maybe she’s involved, maybe she’s not. But don’t paint her with Grier’s brush until we have some proof.”

Even as he said the words, he knew AJ wouldn’t heed them. His partner believed in Marley’s guilt. Caleb, on the other hand…he was ninety percent sure Marley wasn’t involved in any of this. He didn’t quite believe Marley was in cahoots with Grier now, or that she’d been aware of his actions then. Grier was smooth, and according to his file, he’d fooled women before. Killed them, too, or at least he’d been suspected of it.

Still, ninety percent meant there was still that ten percent of doubt floating around in his head. He didn’t want to believe Marley was somehow funneling money into her ex’s hands, but it wasn’t something he could rule out, either. At least their presence next door ensured they’d see Grier if he showed up.

“And if she’s not involved,” Caleb added, “she could be in danger. You know what happened to Grier’s previous girlfriend.”

“Yeah, she found out he was a criminal and tried to help the cops.”

“Her dead body wound up in a Dumpster in Nevada, for Chrissake.”

AJ sighed. “And I’m sorry that happened to her, but at least she was trying to take down Grier. Kincaid, on the other hand…I don’t know, man, the hundred grand in that bank account makes me mighty reluctant to trust her.”

“Well, you don’t have to trust her. You just need to watch her.” Unwittingly, Caleb snuck another peek at the monitor, where Marley had finished bandaging her cut. She was now in the second-floor bedroom, fixing her ponytail.

He wished he could find out exactly what was going on in her head. He needed to know more than what these brief glimpses provided. First and foremost, had she truly been oblivious to her fiancé’s criminal activities?

Yet there were other questions he’d also love to get the answers to. Like what had she seen in Grier in the first place? Why was she doing all these renovations on her house by herself? What did she look like naked?

Caleb stifled a groan. It always seemed to come back to that, didn’t it? Marley Kincaid’s incredibly appealing body. It was the tease of watching, but not really seeing. Catching glimpses of her breasts in silhouette, but never knowing exactly what color her nipples were, never knowing how those firm mounds would feel in his palms or rubbing against his chest, pressed up to his mouth….

Jeez, AJ was right. This attraction really was getting out of hand.

“Grier will show up soon,” Caleb declared. “Whether Marley is helping him doesn’t matter. My gut tells me he’s going to come for her.”

AJ didn’t look convinced. “You know I usually have the utmost respect for an agent’s gut, but how are you so sure? I’ve read his file, Caleb, and he doesn’t form attachments. He uses people, then walks away.”

“She’s different.” Caleb’s voice grew quiet. “He never moved in with anyone before, never proposed marriage, never opened a damned joint savings account. I’m telling you, AJ, he’ll come for her.”

“He’d better,” AJ said with a trace of bitterness. “That bastard needs to pay for what he did to Russ.”

The sound of Russ’s name brought a deep ache to Caleb’s chest. He hadn’t had many friends growing up—being carted from foster home to foster home put a cramp in a guy’s social life—but Russell Delacroix had been the exception. Caleb had met Russ at a group home when he was sixteen, and the two of them developed a friendship that had thrived for years. Russ had been the one who convinced him to join the DEA, and they’d been partners for eight years.

As long as he lived, Caleb knew he’d never forget the sight of Russ’s body crumpling to the cold ground of that warehouse three months ago. Even now, the memory of Russ’s blood staining the dirty floor sent a wave of rage through Caleb’s gut.

Russ had been family, a brother. And losing him to a drug dealer had been a crushing blow.

Caleb tried to swallow the ball of fury lodged in his throat. “He’ll pay,” he said hoarsely. “He will show up here, I know it, and when he does, we’ll be waiting.”

AJ leaned back in the chair, giving a satisfied nod. “Nice to hear you have your priorities straight.”

Caleb bristled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you’ve been lusting after your cute nurse for a week now, and I’m glad you’re still able to remember why we’re here.” AJ’s voice took on an admiring note. Glancing at the screen, he let out a soft whistle. “Though I’ve gotta admit, she’s fun to watch.”

Caleb followed AJ’s gaze, then stifled a groan. Marley had just come out of the walk-in closet in her bedroom, wearing black Spandex pants that hugged her shapely legs, while a tight yellow tank top stretched across her full, perky breasts.

Caleb’s fingers curled into fists. A jolt of desire shot straight to his cock and turned it to granite. He knew Marley’s routine to a T now, and when she put on the Spandex…that meant only one thing was about to happen.

Sexy yoga time.

He tore his eyes off the screen. “Have you made any progress figuring out where the money came from?”

AJ shook his head. “Still can’t trace it.”

Releasing a heavy breath, Caleb got to his feet and approached the desk. “Then we keep waiting.”

“So, what, we sit around for another week, waiting for something to happen? How long is Stevens going to let this stakeout go on?”

“I don’t know. But as long as we’re here, all we can do is wait.”

“For what?” AJ sounded frustrated. “There’s been no activity in the account since the wire transfer, no appearances by Grier, no phone calls, nada. What do you suggest we do?”

“We keep watching,” Caleb said, shrugging.

You mean torturing yourself.

He allowed himself another peek at the screen, swallowing when he noticed the sensual workout had begun. She always started out with sexy stretches that showcased her legs and emphasized her sleek calf muscles, followed by a series of little pelvic tilts that never failed to hold his undivided attention. Oh, and look at that, now she had her hands and feet on the mat, ass thrust up into the air.

Caleb smothered a groan. How much more of this could he take? He was only a man, after all. A thirty-one-year-old single man who’d always had a healthy appetite when it came to sex.

And the woman on the screen, with her lithe body and floor gymnastics, just screamed sex. The proximity of their houses, separated by mere yards, only made the situation worse. It was only ten steps from his porch to hers. Ten steps, and he could be at her door…in her bed…

“Maybe making contact wasn’t such a bad idea,” AJ said suddenly.

Caleb’s head jerked up. “What are you talking about? You just chewed me out for that.”

“Yeah, but I’m looking at it from another angle. You already laid some of the groundwork today,” AJ said, a thoughtful look entering his harsh features. “You saved her life, chatted her up. Sure, she thinks you’re a total weirdo, but—”

“What do you mean, she thinks I’m a weirdo?”

His partner shrugged. “You were like a panicked little rabbit out there. Seriously, you kept inching away, like you were going to bolt any second. I saw the look on her face, man. She’s suspicious of you. And she thinks you’re weird.” AJ offered a big grin. “Fortunately, you’re going to fix that by going over there tomorrow.”

Caleb faltered. He didn’t reply for a moment, running the idea through his mind. “No,” he finally said.

“Why not? All you’ve gotta do is befriend her, get her to open up and figure out what she knows about Grier.”

AJ made it sound like the easiest task on the planet, which, for AJ, it probably was. Despite his scary biker looks, AJ was never hurting for female company. Not Caleb, though. His problem wasn’t finding female company; it was making sure nobody ever got too close. He liked his women the way he liked his cars—fast, bold and temporary. No strings, no hassles and definitely no relationships. He’d learned the hard way the price you paid when you formed attachments to people.

And he didn’t want to get close to Marley Kincaid. His attraction to her had already proven too big a hassle—why make it worse?

“I won’t sleep with her to find out what she knows about Grier,” he grumbled.

“Who said anything about sleeping with her? Uh, one-track mind?” AJ snorted. “All I said was become friends with her. She cut her arm, right? Go over there tomorrow to make sure she’s okay.”

Caleb studied the monitor with a frown. The bedroom was now empty, but light spilled from underneath the closed bathroom door. Another part of the routine, a long shower after sexy yoga.

Indecision rippled inside him. Should he do this? It had been kind of amusing, talking to her outside. She had a great sense of humor, and she also happened to be the most beautiful woman Caleb had ever seen. Plus he was wildly attracted to her. An attraction that could equal trouble.

But AJ had a point. Caleb’s supervisor, Ken Stevens, was a good man, but he wasn’t known for his patience. If this stakeout didn’t produce any results, if Grier didn’t show up soon, Stevens would pull them out. Making contact with Marley and finding out if she knew anything might help move the case along. Hell, it might be the only way to keep the case alive.

“I guess I can do that,” he said slowly. “Just to see if she knows something.”

Right, because her fresh-faced beauty and killer body have nothing to do with it.

“You’re a professional,” AJ said, as if he knew where Caleb’s thoughts had drifted. “Keep it casual, dig around and hopefully she leads us to Grier.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

AJ let out a frustrated sigh that revealed precisely how he felt about his next words. “Then we go back to waiting.”

EMERGING FROM THE SHADOWS, Patrick Grier deftly hopped the fence leading into the backyard of the house across the street from Marley’s. Darkness bathed the yard, which only helped his cause as he crept toward the back door. He’d purposely waited for the sun to set, killing time on a pier a few miles from here. He couldn’t risk anyone seeing him in this neighborhood. A contact of his had warned him the cops were still watching Marley. Otherwise he would’ve broken into her house months ago. But he had to play it safe. Getting caught wouldn’t help him or Marley one damn bit.

The door swung open easily when he turned the knob, and he stepped into the dark house. The temptation to run across the street to see Marley was so strong his legs started to itch. He swiftly fought the urge. He didn’t have a death wish, after all.

Breaking into this house had been risky enough, but fortunately he knew the old bat who lived here. He’d spoken to Lydia White several times when he’d lived across the street, and during their talks he’d learned she lived alone and had zero family. No friends, either, though that wasn’t a surprise considering her foul personality.

But even bitches had to eat.

Tucking the deli bag under his arm, Patrick headed upstairs without turning on any lights. The spare bedroom at the end of the hall had a perfect view of Marley’s place, and when he peeked out the window, he noticed her bedroom light was on. Was she lying in bed, thinking of him?

Turning away from the window, he strode to the narrow closet and flung the door open. A pair of wide brown eyes greeted him, along with the muffled screams of Lydia White as she wiggled around on the closet floor like a scared puppy.

Patrick scrunched up his nose when the faint odor of urine drifted into his nostrils. “You couldn’t hold it for a day?” he spat out.

The old lady whimpered, terror filling her wrinkled face.

Gritting his teeth, Patrick bent down and hauled her up so that she was sitting. He yanked off the duct tape stuck to her mouth. “Open your mouth, I brought you some grub. And remember what I said about screaming.” As a reminder, he half turned to show her the black 9mm sticking out of his waistband.

Another whimper.

Ripping the wax paper covering the ham sandwich he’d picked up, he lifted one half to the lady’s mouth and practically forced it down her wrinkled old throat. She objected at first, but then began to chew, unable to resist the first form of nourishment she’d had since he’d left the house early this morning.

He stifled a curse as he fed the old bat, wishing he could just kill her and be done with it. But he wasn’t a cold-blooded murderer. No, he only killed when his own survival was threatened. Besides, he needed old Lydia around to answer the phone when some rare person called—while Patrick held a gun to her head, of course.

So far, Lydia had followed instructions like a pro. And using her house as his base of operations was ideal. For the moment.

“Here,” he barked, uncapping a bottle of water and bringing it to Lydia’s mouth.

The elderly woman drank fervently, but the glimmer of fear never once left her eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he snapped. “I told you, I won’t be here long. I’m just making some arrangements and then I’ll be gone.”

And so would Marley. No way was he leaving her behind. She was the love of his life, after all. So unbelievably different from the fast and loose women in his past. He’d known it the second she’d walked into his hospital room in her green scrubs, with that gentle smile on her face.

His smile dissolved into a frown as he thought about all the shit that had gone down three months ago. He still experienced an onslaught of rage every time he remembered what had happened in the warehouse. Damn cops. The shipment they’d intercepted had cost him millions of dollars. Not to mention that they’d officially made it impossible for him ever to live in the States again.

Tomorrow morning, he planned on driving to Tijuana to meet with a guy who was arranging the necessary papers, and he was still working on a way to contact Marley. Once he did, he could get hold of the money he’d hidden in her house. He’d stashed two hundred grand under her bathroom floor three days after he moved in; it was part of his routine—always have an exit strategy in case you need one.

And then there was the hundred grand in his and Marley’s joint account. Earlier this week a European contact who owed him money had transferred the dough in there, since the feds had frozen all of Patrick’s personal accounts and he didn’t have the resources yet to open anything new. He wasn’t sure why they’d left the joint account open—his instincts told him it was a trap—but if he could, he planned on transferring the amount to a bank in the Caymans when he secured the necessary ID papers.