A Gift For The Groom

“Turn off your engine and step out of the vehicle.”

Turn off the engine? Dive under the dash and untwist the wires? Not a good idea.

Leaving the car running, she opened the door and slid out “If you’ll just call Nick at the...oh, dear, I can’t remember the name of the motel, but it’s down the highway a couple of miles, which is why I was heading that way except you can’t call him because there aren’t any phones in the rooms but Mabel has a phone...”

Nick stood on the sidewalk in front of his room in the still-cool, bright Sunday morning. From the outside, the old motel with its peeling paint and missing room numbers had a quaint charm. In other circumstances, he’d have considered the day to be perfect, a good omen. But as he waited for Analise. to show up in his borrowed car that she’d so cavalierly reborrowed, he had a bad feeling.

A large, older-model black car pulled up. His gaze flicked over the automobile and returned to searching the highway for any signs of the rust-colored—or covered—vehicle Analise had absconded with.

Mabel’s head popped out the window of the passenger side of the black car. “Analise just called. She needs you to get her out of jail.”

As Nick rode with the Finches to the Prairieview police station, he marveled that these people whom Analise hadn’t known twenty-four hours ago leaped to her defense.

“It’s Frank Marshall’s youngest boy,” Mabel explained. “He’s been watching too many cop shows on television. Nothing ever happens in Prairieview, so he goes around looking for trouble. Gave Mildred Adams a ticket for parking too close to a fire hydrant Took a tape measure and got her at four inches too close. Imagine, taking Analise in just because the car wasn’t registered in her name.”

Apparently Analise hadn’t mentioned in her phone call to Mabel Finch that she’d hot-wired his car. That undoubt edly contributed to the arresting officer’s suspicions.

Ten minutes later they were in the middle of the Sunday-silent town. Mannequins in the department store window stood motionless, gazing from painted eyes at the empty sofas and chairs on display in the furniture store across the street. The movie theater marquee had a couple of letters missing. Even the drugstore was deserted. Anyone needing an antacid or deodorant would, Nick presumed, have to wait until Monday.

Horace pulled up next to Nick’s rented car, in front of the small, weathered-rock building designated as the Prairieview Police Station by the words carved above the door.

Both Horace and Mabel started to get out, but Nick stopped them. “You all go on to church. I don’t want you to be late. I’ll take care of Analise.”

“Well, okay,” Horace agreed reluctantly. “But if you run into any trouble, you call us at the Methodist church and we’ll come talk to Frank’s boy.”

Nick thanked them, exited the car, walked up to the building and grasped the tarnished brass handle to yank open the front door. He’d take care of Analise all right. After he got her out of jail, he’d wring her slender neck.

The door proved to be heavier than he’d thought and reluctant to move, so his dramatic gesture was lost Instead, it creaked slowly open.

Analise and a young man in a blue uniform looked up as he entered. The man sat behind a desk with Analise in a chair in front. In the first instant, his mind registered that she was indeed wearing purple shorts with a scoop-necked, sleeveless blouse with bright flowers of purple, black, yellow and a green the same color as her eyes. She’d wrapped a long purple tie around the neck he was getting ready to wring, and the ends floated down her back. She sat with one long leg crossed over the other, a purple sandal adorning her slim foot. She was as bright and tempting and dangerous as the neon lights of Las Vegas.

In the second instant, he noted that she held five cards in her hand and had a pile of pennies in front of her.

Honour washed over him as he recalled the dubious skills her former boyfriend had taught her. She was playing poker with the cop who’d arrested her and dealing off the bottom of the deck, judging by the size of her pile of pennies as compared to the officer’s pile.

She gave him her dazzling smile just as he charged across the room and snatched the cards out of her fingers, sending the rest of the deck and her ill-gotten pennies flying. It also sent him tumbling into her lap.

How was it possible, in a moment of crisis, that he still noticed she smelled like honeysuckle on a warm summer evening and her skin was as soft and velvety as the petals of a magnolia blossom?

He pushed himself up, endeavouring to get his face out of her midriff and his hands off her thighs, even though his body would have loved to stay right there.

As he struggled to his feet, his gaze met her startled green eyes. Startles, but not horrified, some alien creature in the back of his brain exulted. Startled and maybe just a tittle bit...excited?

“Hold it right there, mister!”

Nick whirled around to see the officer standing with his weapon drawn.

Great. He was going to end up in jail with Analise, both of them growing old and fat together, eating fried eggs and bologna for breakfast every morning. And the way things were going, she’d be in a cell close enough for him to hear her talk all day long but not close enough to touch.

“It’s okay, Joe,” Analise reassured the officer. “This is Nick Claiborne, the man whose car I borrowed. Tell him I didn’t steal it, Nick.”

Joe reholstered his gun but didn’t relax. “Car’s not registered to Nick Claiborne.”

“I told you—” Analise began impatiently, but Joe cut her off.

“You got any proof you rented it from Fred Smith?” He sneered at Nick.

“Have you got any proof I didn’t?” Nick withdrew his wallet, opened it to his private investigator’s license and slammed it onto the desk. “I’m working on a case. Ms. Brewster is my client. I rented the car, and she took it to use this morning.”

“With your permission?”

Nick gritted his teeth but made himself lie. “Yes.”

“Then how come she had to hot-wire it?”

There was a limit to how big a lie he could tell. He avoided the question instead. “What are the charges against Ms. Brewster?”

Joe stood straighter. “Speeding, failure to signal before changing lanes, failure to wear a seat belt and possibly driving a stolen vehicle.”

“Has the car been reported stolen?”

Joe slumped back into his chair. “No,” he admitted grudgingly.

“Then write her tickets for the rest and let her go.”

Joe waved one hand negligibly. “Aw, we’ll just forget about the tickets. Analise explained why she was speeding, there wasn’t anybody around to signal to anyway and the seat belt was broken.”

“Thanks, Joe!” Analise beamed at the officer then bent and started retrieving her pennies.

Nick grabbed her arm and dragged her from the station.

“What on earth is the matter with you?” she demanded, jerking away from his grasp as soon as they were outside.

“Bad enough you were cheating at cards with a police officer, I wasn’t about to let you take your winnings with you.

She fisted her hands on her curved, purple-silk-clad hips. “I wasn’t cheating! How could you possibly think I would cheat?”

“You’re the one who told me your friend taught you to deal off the bottom of the deck!”

“I assume you know how to shoot a gun, too, but you don’t go around doing it for fun!”

Nick threw his arms into the air. “I learned how to shoot a gun when I went through the police academy. The purpose was to save my life. I haven’t shot one since I left the force. Do you want to explain to me how that relates to cheating at cards?”

“I...was...not...cheating!” She bent forward at the waist and ground out each word from between clenched teeth. “And you never know when being able to deal from the bottom of the deck could save your life.”

“How?”

“Well...” Her voice trailed off and she moved around him toward the car, then stopped and faced him again. “You never know until the situation arises. It’s always best to be prepared.”

He unlocked the car door and opened it. “Get in.”

“Not until you apologize for accusing me of cheating.”

“If you weren’t cheating, how did you win all those pennies?”

She shrugged, the movement shifting the brightly colored fabric that covered her rounded breasts in a tantalizing manner. “Beginner’s luck.”

“Beginner’s luck? What about the story of your boyfriend teaching you to play poker?”

“Well, sure, he taught me, but we never really played, just practiced. When I saw a deck of cards on the desk in there, I figured I might as well give it a shot. What did I have to lose? If you hadn’t charged in like some maniac, I was getting ready to offer him double or nothing to drop the charges against me. I had a royal fiush. Joe dealt me the ace, queen, jack and ten of hearts and then I drew the king.”

With a final glare, she turned and slid into the car then closed the door.

Now, how the hell had she managed to make him feel guilty, when she’d stolen his car, gotten herself thrown in jail and he’d rescued her? At least Kay had been grateful when he’d gotten her out of her scrapes.

He strode around to the driver’s side, resisting an impulse to smack the hood as he passed. The car might fall completely apart.

Damn it, she’d hired him to do a job, to vindicate her fiancé’s father and find the guilty party. Nothing in that job description required him to look out for her when she got herself in a mess. He solved other people’s problems from a safe distance. He didn’t get involved, not with the problem or the client. That’s what he liked about this job. No emotions. No ups, no downs, no worries, no losses.

He got in the car and slammed the door...hard The vehicle quivered and rattled but remained in one piece.

“I don’t care what it takes,” he said, “even if it costs me a day’s investigation, even if you decide to fire me, you are, as of this minute, on your way back to Texas.”

Distress clouded Analise’s features. “I can’t do that. Bob—Reverend Sampson—told me that June Martin—that’s the name he knew her by—that her daughter, Sara, not only had red hair like me but also green eyes and she even spelled her name the way I spelled my doll’s name when I was a little girl. With no ‘h’ on the end.” She lifted both hands as if to forestall his protest. “I know, I know. Could be coincidences, but I believe I have a connection with Sara. I believe fate brought me here so I could intervene in her life and help her get over the cruel things her mother did to her. I have to be there when you find her. It’s my destiny. I have wonderful parents, a stable home life, terrific friends, all the material things I could possibly want—I’ve always had life handed to me on a silver platter and now it’s my turn to pass along some of the good stuff.”

There was no mistaking the sincerity, the concern, in her voice and in her eyes. At the same time as a part of Nick raged in protest, another part melted at her misplaced desire to help someone less fortunate.

Her long, golden legs, generous lips and rounded breasts that moved those improbable flowers on her blouse up and down and all around with every breath undoubtedly had something to do with his meltdown, but he couldn’t think about that.

If they did make it to church, he’d most certainly pray that they found June and Sara Martin before nightfall and Analise would be out of his life forever.

“Bob told me that June and Sara moved away right after Sara started school,” Analise informed him, as if her sole purpose in life was to complicate his.

The fact that some rebellious, not-very-bright part of him gave a tiny, embarrassed cheer at the thought of Analise not disappearing from his life forever only proved how desperately he needed to get away from her.

Chapter Three

Analise had always considered herself fairly adept at reading people’s expressions, but Nick’s facial contortions had her totally confused. He was bound to be a little upset at having to retrieve her from jail, and she hadn’t expected him to be thrilled at the news that their quarry had left Nebraska. However, his eyes alternately brightened and darkened as they darted from her head to her feet and back again. His lips compressed tightly even as the corner seemed to be trying to turn up in some sort of smile or grimace.

Finally he looked away and put the key in the ignition. “Can I drive this thing now or do you need to hot-wire it first?”

“I put everything back just the way it was.” She wanted to tell him that she wasn’t real thrilled at the idea of spending more time with him, either...with somebody who thought she was the type who would cheat at cards. But she didn’t think that would be a wise idea right now.

Besides, it wasn’t entirely true. Some part of her deep inside, some self-destructive part of her, was just the tiniest bit thrilled at the idea of spending more time with him. Actually, it was more than a tiny bit thrilled.

Whatever odd thoughts he’d been having as his gaze had raked her from head to foot, one element was always there...the heat. He’d sent her adrenaline surging, poured gasoline on those smoldering lumps of coal she thought she’d doused until he fell into her lap in the police station. Hardly a sensuous action, yet somehow it had been. She didn’t want to even think about the feel of his face buried against her stomach, his hand on her thigh.

Didn’t want to think about it but couldn’t seem to stop.

“Well,” Nick said, his curt tone slicing into her thoughts, “you’ve certainly had a busy morning. So where are we off to now? Church? Back to hear more from the Reverend Sampson?”

“No. Now we need to go to the Presbyterian church.”

“Ah, a conversion!”

“There’s no call for sarcasm. It’s where Sara’s grade-school principal goes. Sampson thinks he’d probably remember where they moved to.”

Nick grunted and mumbled something.

“What?”

“I said, that’s a good lead. Any idea where the Presbyterian church is located?”

“Yes, I have quite specific directions.”

As Nick drove, Analise kept her gaze turned away from his chiseled profile, his tousled hair, his hands that had touched her body. Those thoughts were not only dangerous but also disloyal to Lucas. Instead, she focused out the car window, watching the older houses with their neatly tended lawns roll past. Prairieview had the same sleepy small-town atmosphere as Briar Creek. The only real difference was the terrain, the flat Nebraska prairie instead of lushly green, gently rolling hills. But it had the same quiet, reverent Sunday-morning air of home, and she had the same embarrassed, inept feeling she ended up with so often at home.

Amazing. She’d started out the day so good, doing everything right, then managed to get herself thrown into jail and had to ask Nick to rescue her. And Nick thought she was cheating at cards. That bothered her as much as anything. For as long as she could remember, she’d been a little blunder-prone, but nobody had ever accused her of being dishonest

Until today.

Until Nick.

It shouldn’t matter what Nick thought of her, but it did. And that bothered her. Trying to prove herself to somebody like Nick could only result in major problems. She’d seen proof of that already this morning.

Oh, brother! She’d just admitted to herself that she wanted to prove herself to Nick, to impress him, to fly into the face of the storm and beat back the wind. Fat chance.

“All tight,” Nick said, interrupting her gloomy contemplation. “Tell me in detail about your conversation with the Reverend Sampson.”

She looked over at him. His square jaw was set resolutely, but at least he wanted to discuss the good part of the morning. “Bob Sampson remembered June Martin very clearly. She came to his church every week and she worked at the bank.”

“That’s interesting. Did any money disappear along with her when she left town?”

“I asked him that and he said no. Either she didn’t want to push her luck or she got better at hiding her crimes. He said she was kind of a religious fanatic. She and her daughter went to every service, but they never made friends, never participated in social activities. He said Sara was a very quiet, subdued little girl, that June ruled her with an iron hand and Sara seemed scared of her mother.”

“That’s too bad.”

He sounded disconnected, detached, as though they were talking about the mechanical breakdown of a car or something. “It certainly is too bad! Where were the authorities? Why didn’t somebody help Sara? Why didn’t Sampson do something about it? He’s supposed to help people!”

“Hey, don’t get mad at me. I’m agreeing with you. But you’ve got to be realistic here. That was a long time ago, a small town, and what could the authorities do anyway? Did she beat Sara? Did she hurt her physically?”

“She spanked her. Sampson saw her do that in church. And she probably did worse in private. How else could she subdue her so drastically? Remember you said when she was in Wyoming that she’d been, and I quote, a pistol. June Martin had to do something drastic to break her spirit like that.”

He stared straight ahead through the windshield, his profile calm and unperturbed though his jaw was still set solidly, with one muscle twitching slightly as if maintaining that calm was an effort. “I’m sure you’re right, but that was a lot of years ago. Sara’s grown now, probably has a good job, a husband, maybe a couple of kids. Whatever happened to her as a child is over and done with. We’ll find June Martin and she’ll go to jail for embezzlement and you’re going to have to accept that as her punishment for whatever she did wrong in raising her daughter.”

“I can’t believe you’re so uncaring about this whole thing!”

Nick pulled into the Presbyterian church’s packing lot and turned to Analise. “I can’t believe you’re getting so upset about somebody you don’t even know.”

For a long moment Analise stared into the distant, unreadable blue of Nick’s gaze and questioned exactly why she was so obsessed with Sara’s happiness. Obviously it only added to her instability in Nick’s eyes. On the other hand, she couldn’t accept his total lack of concern.

“I can’t explain it, but Sara doesn’t feel like a stranger. It’s like there’s some sort of a link between her and me. I felt it last night when you first told me about her. Then today when Sampson was talking about her, it was almost like I could feel her sadness and loneliness. Like I was destined to find that little girl who has the same color hair and eyes that I do, find her and rescue her from the awful woman who caused so many problems for so many people.”

Nick lifted one eyebrow skeptically.

“Fine,” she said, turning away and reaching for the door handle. “I don’t care whether or not you believe me. I don’t care whether or not you keep working for me. I’ll do it without you.”

“Analise—” He laid a restraining hand on her shoulder, and those tingles started again, her already warm skin warming in a different way, setting those lumps of coal to blazing again.

She held her breath, paralyzed, unable or unwilling to move. His hand slid slowly down her arm, lighting miniature forest fires everywhere it touched, and he made a sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a moan. Or maybe the sound came from her own throat. Or maybe she only imagined it.

This wasn’t good at all. Okay, it felt good, real good, but she didn’t need some man other than her fiancé making her feel things her fiancé didn’t. Not that she wanted to feel those things from her fiancé, that out-of-control, wildly exciting ride on the Adrenaline River straight over Disaster Falls.

She definitely didn’t need this, didn’t want or need to be attracted to a man who was the embodiment of chaos, guaranteed to create more problems in her life.

Nick took his hand away, and she opened the car door and darted out. He caught up to her as they reached the church steps.

“Analise, I didn’t mean to imply that I don’t believe you. I just have a hard time understanding. I helped raise four little sisters and I was married for four months, so I know what it means to be compelled to take care of someone and worry about them. But—a stranger?”

She stopped and turned back to him. “I’ve always had everything. It’s been great, but I’ve often wondered why I should be so lucky. I didn’t do anything to deserve any of it. And Sara didn’t do anything to deserve so much bad. It’s not fair that I had so much and she had so little. Maybe this is my chance to make things more equal.”

He stared at her for a long moment, his gaze unreadable and veiled. Finally he shrugged. “Whatever. It’s your case.” He looked down at her bare legs. “But are you sure you want to go to church in that getup?”

She lifted her chin defiantly. “Last I heard, God was more concerned with the inside than the outside. Anyway, I don’t have anything else. This bag will only hold so much.”

Nick scowled. “Why didn’t you bring a regular suitcase?”

“If my parents had seen me packing a suitcase, they’d have stopped me from coming. If anybody in that town had seen me with a suitcase, they’d have told my parents, who’d have stopped me from coming.”

Nick’s gaze moved slowly over her body, heating her blood as if he’d physically touched her, then returning to her face. “You’re a grown woman. Isn’t that a little extreme, having the whole town tattling on you?”

“I’ve always thought so. I told you, my parents are really into being overprotective. I’m twenty-seven years old, but you’d think I was still seven the way they treat me. They don’t think I have sense enough to cross the street by myself even though there’s hardly any traffic in Briar Creek, which remands me, I haven’t called them since I got to the airport in Wyoming yesterday and they’ll be worried. I need to find a phone.”

“Do your parents have reason to worry about you?”

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