The Last Man She'd Marry

Oh, no more, please. She so wanted not to have this conversation again. “I was doing you a favor. You had a job to get back to.”

“I would have been willing to take some extra time off.”

He’d never said that. At any rate he didn’t have the luxury, that much she understood. “You don’t have a job, you have a career.” There was a vast difference. Men like Jonas put in their twenty-something years with pride and dogged determination regardless of what was asked of them. Dedication wasn’t easy to walk away from, and after all of the effort and expense invested in developing an agent, the FBI wouldn’t make it easier. What’s more, the grim truth was that they’d had a fling. A few weekends here and there when he could fly down from Washington, D.C., to Austin, Texas. It was hardly what anyone could have called a relationship. Actually, the one gift in all of what had happened—to use the term darkly—was that it had ended before she had to worry that they were, indeed, heading toward some sort of understanding and all that meant.

Her silence had him studying her profile. “You don’t believe me about wanting to help you. What did you think all of those calls and notes were about?”

An almost lifelong survival technique triggered her stubbornness and need to be in control. “Maybe I didn’t want to be anyone’s project.” As they came to the express checkout, she handed the basket over to the checker.

“Ma’am…my apologies.” The store manager came around the counter to bag. His face was flushed, a stark contrast to his crisp white shirt. “Is there anything that I can do? Are you all right?”

Was this Denny’s uncle? Alyx saw no familial resemblance in the meticulously coifed, sandy-haired, anxious man to the big lug who’d accosted her. “I’m fine, thank you.” Wanting only escape, she nodded to the basket. “I’d just like to pay for this and go home.”

With abject humility, the man gestured toward the door. “Allow me to sack those and please—no charge. I’m sorry you were—that you had this experience. Let me reassure you it won’t happen again.”

Alyx wondered how often he had to dig into his own pocket to cover for his sister’s—or brother’s—overgrown delinquent? Feeling bad for him, Alyx said, “I appreciate that, but I don’t need you to comp my purchases.”

“Where’s the guy who assaulted her?” Jonas interjected.

The manager’s eyes darted from entrance to entrance before he cleared his throat. “He’s—uh—being driven home, sir. And I’ve called his—his home. His family will see that he stays there.”

At another time, Alyx would have smiled that Jonas intimidated him. When she’d first laid eyes upon this friend of Judge Dylan Justiss last year, she’d had to struggle to keep her usual cool decorum, too, and for an instant hadn’t been so upset that her client, Deputy DA E. D. Martel, and Dylan were besotted with each other at a most inopportune time. There was something about Jonas’s Hollywood good looks that demanded attention as well…who was it he reminded her of?

Audrey Hepburn’s pining love interest in Breakfast at Tiffany’s—George Peppard. After all this time it had finally come to her.

“Here you are, miss.” Ignoring her debit card, the manager held her bagged items out to her. “Again, I’m very sorry.”

“Thanks.” Painfully aware of all the eyes following her, Alyx exited the store as fast as possible, wanting nothing more than to get to Parke’s black RAV4. The vehicle was a little “outdoorsy” for her, but it represented escape, which was all that mattered.

“Alyx? A moment?”

With her thumb on the ignition key’s computerized lock, she paused. Drawing a deep breath, she turned to face her ex-lover and waited for him to voice whatever he felt this rescue had earned him the right to say. What could it hurt at this point? She might look like a worn-out dishtowel ready for the garbage, but at least there was no media around to extend her embarrassment to the evening news.

Jonas slipped on his sunglasses. Perfect G-man mode, she thought. Seek out secrets, but keep your own.

“No explanation? No nothing?”

His soft-spoken query had an edge to it and she couldn’t blame him one bit for being annoyed that “thank you” wasn’t enough either personally or professionally. But she, too, was known to be a hard read in her personal life and a barracuda for her clients. So, bottom line, she had no inclination to explain herself today, and might never.

“What’s done is done, Jonas. You have your world and I have mine. Let’s leave well enough alone.” Only when she replaced her own glasses did she risk glancing up at him. Despite the filtered lenses, in the bright sunlight, what she saw brought a bit of a shock. He no longer had that Teflon, nothing-sticks, smooth-operator look that she remembered. His face was sunken, more lined and his mouth had a harder twist.

“‘Well enough’?” he snapped, breaking into her thoughts, “Alyx, have you looked in a mirror lately? There may be no blood this time, but you still look one missed depression pill away from suicide.” With a muttered expletive, he walked away.

The sting of his criticism, regardless of its accuracy, made it impossible to resist striking back. “Yeah?” she called to his back. “Well, consider the compliment returned and then some!”

Men. Here she was doing him a favor—whether he knew it or not—but leave it to Testosterone Man that when rejected, he was determined to cut her down to manageable size.

Inside her cousin’s SUV, Alyx tossed the bag onto the passenger’s seat and shoved the key into the ignition. Tried, that is. Her hands were shaking so hard she had to grip her wrist and direct it in. That’s when the tears started pouring down her cheeks.

“Crap.”

Desperate for the privacy of Parke’s house, Alyx blindly ripped at tissues from the box in the console and slipped them under the sunglasses to dab at her eyes. Never would she have suspected that seeing Jonas again would have this effect on her. After the attack, it had been a relief when he’d stopped coming to the hospital and had returned to Washington, D.C., better still when he’d stopped phoning and e-mailing.

Why start all that again when he claimed to be here for a friend? He’d certainly left without too much coercion.

Recovering somewhat, Alyx carefully backed out of the parking space, but she kept an eye out for Jonas. When she spotted him a lane away climbing into a red vintage Mustang convertible, her caution turned to skepticism, which sent her eyebrows arching.

“The government must be paying well these days if that’s what was allowed from the rental counters,” she muttered.

Accelerating, she made it to the exit and turned right onto the main road. Parke’s house was another few miles west and a bit down from the plateau where the municipal airport was located. At the next traffic light, she eased the SUV left to the turning lane, and it was as she was waiting for the light that she spotted the Mustang two cars behind her.

What on earth did he think he was doing?

Agitated, the second the green arrow lit, Alyx hit the gas pedal. Okay, she told herself as emotions turned her insides into a cruller, calm down; there were another few turns on this road. He would go down one of those. Surely he wasn’t trying to find out where she was staying after she’d made it clear she had no interest in picking up where they’d left off?

But parallel to the airport turnoff, she pulled over to the side of the road—and Jonas pulled in right behind her. “Of course,” she seethed, “because we both know you aren’t headed there. You said yourself that you hate to fly!” And he sure wasn’t going to buy onto one of those tourist sightseeing trips in a First World War biplane that soared over the skyline day in and day out, circling the hot-air balloons and gorgeous rock formations.

Having had enough, Alyx thrust open the door. It cost her, but gritting her teeth against the pain in her shoulder, she stood tall and strode back to his purring sports car.

Behind his sunglasses, Jonas’s face remained impassive, and he didn’t indicate for a second that he intended to get out of the car. “What’s the problem now?” he asked.

“You tell me.”

Looking off into space, he released the steering wheel to give the palms-up, I-don’t-get-it gesture.

“Why are you following me?” she enunciated, hating him for making her spell it out.

“I’m not.”

“This is taking things too far, Jonas. Please go away. I don’t want to have to notify the police.”

Drawing his sunglasses down his nose, he stared at her, a steely glint flashing in his narrowed eyes. “Get over yourself, Alyx. I’m going to work.”

“What?” She followed his nod toward the airport. “This is a joke, right? The airport? You happen to have told me that you hate to fly.”

“I hate going commercial. I have a private pilot’s license, and—sorry to burst your conspiracy theory—I’m helping a friend with his tour service while his broken leg heals.”

“I see. Then I apologize for…I apologize.” Wishing she could start this day over, or better yet, evaporate into thin air, Alyx returned to Parke’s Toyota. Once again her stomach threatened to add to her humiliation and, glancing in the rearview mirror to assure herself that the way was clear, she hit the accelerator and tore away without a last glance at Jonas.

Had to get your drop of blood, didn’t you?

Jonas sat still until the black SUV vanished from sight. It bothered him that he hadn’t hesitated to embarrass Alyx, but it bothered him more how much he wanted to follow her, to find out if she was telling the truth about the cousin and where the house was. And he’d thought he’d conquered that weakness. When she’d shut him out earlier this year, he’d had his regrets. He could also admit his ego had been bruised, but shortly after arriving back in Washington, D.C., he’d convinced himself that he’d been lucky because then the grandfather of garbage trucks hit the fan, and his personal life got knocked into a different time zone.

Now, with all kinds of opportunity to rethink matters, it was ironic that she should show up. However, he couldn’t let that be a trip-switch to acting like a drooling college kid again. His professional clock was ticking and he needed a clear head to make some decisions before the alarm triggered.

As his gaze dropped to his watch, Jonas snapped out of his brooding. He was already minutes late for his first appointment of the day and suspected Zane’s phone was seconds away from ringing back at the house as panicking receptionist Miranda attempted to save herself from taking a waiting customer’s flack. However, as he continued through the airport entrance, Alyx’s face reappeared before him.

He shouldn’t have said she looked bad. It would take a mud bath to hide Alyx Carmel’s captivating features, and such an event would certainly accent her other outstanding assets, namely her luscious figure.

“Down, boy,” he muttered under his breath.

Under no circumstances could he afford to reawaken his libido; he’d mandated a starvation diet for it. The rule was simple: no paycheck, no playtime. Not that Alyx would consider going out with him again.

“‘What’s done is done.’”

Quoting her, his words sounded more like a puzzle than a vow. But as he pulled up to the Sedona Sites ticket office, he couldn’t ignore a tightening in his abdomen that had nothing to do with any concern about Zane’s beloved aircraft’s air-worthiness and had everything to do with another truth.

Alyx was too close for comfort even for someone with his discipline and willpower.

Chapter Two

As soon as Alyx entered Parke’s hillside house, her cousin’s greyhound, Grace, drew herself erect from the tile floor in the center of the entryway and stared at her with mournful eyes.

Alyx stopped for a moment to eye the sad creature, as gorgeous a living sculpture as those her owner produced from rock, metal and clay. “C’mon, Gracie, I was as fast as I could be. You have no idea what I went through this morning.”

Grace—a racing dog adopted to save her from euthanasia—looked away as though Alyx had insulted her intelligence.

“Okay, your majesty, I know your ancestors wouldn’t even let me touch them unless I had a title, and I’m sorry that my absence left you worried about being abandoned again—not that you’ll admit it to lowly me. But if you’ll give me a moment to pour myself a glass of chardonnay, I’ll soak your teeth-cleaning bone in a ladle of your mom’s chicken stew. How about that?”

Not waiting for an answer, Alyx eased off her sunglasses and visor and set them and her purse onto the hallway table on her way to the kitchen. Depositing her two bags from the grocery on a counter, she returned to the door of the garage to toe off her sneakers, massaging her shoulder along the way. She felt worse than when she’d entered the fitness center, but right now she had commitments to deal with.

As promised, she got out the pot of chicken stew that was for Grace’s dinner and dropped the chew bone in there for a minute while pouring herself the cold wine from a bottle in the refrigerator. After a sip, she sighed and offered the dog the bone.

“There you go. Now behave and don’t start wailing and otherwise telling me about your rough morning. Mine was worse and I need to make a couple of calls without sound effects.”

Wiping her wet hand on a damp paper towel, she took another soothing taste of the wine. Then Alyx flipped open her cell phone and located E. D. Martel’s number in the directory. Martel-Justiss now, she thought with a fatalistic sigh. Her client-turned-dear-friend had not only married Judge Dylan Justiss, but had recently given birth to a third child, Dylan’s first, and his namesake. Alyx felt like an amoeba compared to that woman and her courage.

At the sound of E.D.’s voice, she drawled, “How’s the mother of the judiciary’s next sage?”

“Hey—I’ve been wanting to call you, but have tried to respect your space. How’s it going?” Eva Danielle’s tone reverberated with genuine delight. “I expected you to live up to your warning that you’d be out of touch and resigned myself to weeks of worry.”

That was one of the many things that made her want to keep E.D. in her life. She might not be comfortable with Alyx’s decisions, but she did her best to honor them. “I appreciate that,” she told her. “And I’d intended to stay incommunicado, but you know life—make a plan and watch it get a slap shot into the stratosphere.”

“Interesting image. You aren’t dating a hockey player, are you?”

“Very funny,” Alyx replied. “You know I’m not in any shape even to think of such a thing.”

“You’re a stunner, Alyx. You were before and you still are. My heart aches for what happened to you, and for your suffering. Just know I want to help in any way I can.”

Well, then, Alyx thought, here was the perfect opening. She challenged, “Are you aware that Jonas is here?”

“What? Of course not! Good grief—how did that happen? You mean there there? Sedona?”

“Our paths crossed and I have no idea how that happened.” Alyx filled her in on their stressful and unexpected meeting. “I’m sorry to confess that at first I thought maybe you and your deceptively sweet husband had something to do with this,” she said at the conclusion of her recount.

E.D. didn’t waste a second making a few points. “Did you not threaten to leave without telling me a word for fear of that concern? Why then would I break my word to you?”

“Because you have a soft spot for him and he’s one of your husband’s most trusted friends.”

“All true to a point. However, there are boundaries and exceptions to things like that and you know it. Neither of us believes in unconditional love, and a confidence is a confidence.” E.D. uttered a groan. “I’m sorry you were caught off guard, Alyx, but unless you told someone else, this has to be one of those inexplicable mysteries.”

“Destiny? You know my opinion of that.”

“Yes, but your perspective is especially vulnerable to emotional influences right now,” E.D. said, her tone soothing. “You’re still recovering from trauma.”

It amazed Alyx that her litigator friend had ever won any case; she was a softy through and through. Smiling despite herself, she asked, “How’s Judge Junior?”

E.D. chuckled. “He’s like his daddy, too good to be true.”

“The next sound you hear may be me snoring.”

“Oh, Alyx. I do wish you’d put some body butter on that thick hide of yours and let yourself see what miracles are out there.”

“Try to resist suggesting that I adopt, let alone get pregnant.”

“I can’t deny I’ve thought about how good that would be for you.”

Alyx glanced over at Grace and rolled her eyes. “Lose my phone number. Now!”

E.D. chuckled. “Who else are you going to call to snoop for you?”

She knew that was a joke, but as usual her mind went into overdrive and she immediately thought of P.I.s’ phone numbers, only to reject the idea. Jonas would spot the guy in minutes. None of that would happen—crazy she wasn’t, even if she was tempted—but it reminded her of how, as a child, she’d been constantly rebuked for “living too much in her head,” as her teachers and mother had put it. For once she had to agree with them.

“How are the older kids?” she asked, again hoping to veer their conversation away from her.

“Well, as I hold my breath, Dani is pulling a four-point-zero average at college, Mac hasn’t suffered a bad asthma attack in a couple of months, and the baby screams with delight the moment either of them walk through the door. They can’t help but drop that entire humiliated-teen act pretending Dylan and I are too old for more children.”

“Be careful or one of the TV networks will be courting you to be the next big thing—unreality.”

“I only shared because you asked.”

The gentle rebuke was nothing less than Alyx deserved. “Sorry. I really am happy for you.” More like relieved that Dani had straightened out and ceased her declared war on her mother and Dylan. Alyx couldn’t imagine herself in such a relationship minefield again, loving as her friend’s seemed to have become. “You know my dilemma. My work only shows me the failures in relationships—manufactured or medical—so what you’re describing sounds like fiction on the cable channels or the Internet dating sites.”

“A few years ago, I would have high-fived you on that. You just keep getting well.”

“I want to.” Her wording surprised her. Until a few days ago, she couldn’t even swear to that. “Um…then you haven’t had contact with Jonas?”

“Absolutely not. In fact, come to think of it…he hadn’t answered Dylan’s last few calls or e-mails.”

“He’s pretty cryptic about why he’s here, too. He says it’s to help a friend who runs a sky-tour business. I had no idea that he was a pilot.”

“That makes two of us.”

Could that be? Alyx thought, frowning. “But I thought for sure—”

“Until my situation, I didn’t know anyone in Dylan’s circle.”

Alyx barely won over the impulse to take another sip of her wine. She’d believed the two men so close and had suspected this incident was common knowledge by now between husband and wife. On the other hand, she appreciated that she could count on E.D. to keep confidences, as Dylan obviously did.

“There you go thinking again,” E.D. said, breaking into her thoughts.

“I’m sorry. I’m nowhere close to my best form and this has…well, it’s thrown me.”

“Understandable. Now quit beating around the bush and talk to me.”

Alyx didn’t think she had a choice—she had to get feedback from someone—and gave E.D. a summary of her experiences so far. “Now tell me that I’m overreacting,” she said at the end.

“For good reason, considering what you’ve endured. No one, particularly Jonas, can fault you for feeling anything else but terror at that fool’s flagrant advances or for being gun-shy at seeing someone you believed should be on the other side of the continent.”

“Yes, but afterward I pushed Jonas away. That’s one person I should have trusted—forget the personal stuff.” Groaning as her mind churned with hindsight regret, she massaged her aching neck. “It’s just that he appeared out of nowhere. Why would he be in the grocery store if he was due at work?”

“Well, my guess is that he saw you on the road—or thought he did—followed you into the market, realized it was you, and was trying to figure out why and what he felt about that. Then the incident occurred and the decision was a moot point.”

“More stuff that happens in contrived sitcoms, not in real life.”

“Tell that to the woman in Belgium who was putting away leftovers for a gentleman friend and found the bodies of his supposedly estranged wife and her son in his cellar freezer.”

“What?” Grimacing, Alyx saw that Grace was tilting her head at the door. Alyx quickly crossed to it, tested the lock, and peered through the security hole. “Don’t add to my imagination, please. It’s in overdrive as it is.”

“Sorry. Tell me what else he said. He had to have asked questions. Dylan said he was pretty crushed when you sent him away, and I can’t imagine the shock this was for you to see him in a place where you expect to know only your cousin.”

Yes, a shock, but also a relief because he had rescued her, Alyx thought with growing guilt. “He wanted an explanation as to why I shut him out. I never gave him one. Did he tell Dylan that?”

“Dylan shared that he sounded frustrated, even hurt a few times, but aside from that, I don’t know. He may have committed Dylan to a promise of secrecy, too. You know I won’t challenge that without good cause. I feel Dylan would have shared with me if he could.”

That said a good deal about his character. Again. As for her own track record with men, Alyx didn’t think there was the equivalent of an honorable Dylan among them—unless Jonas could be the exception to the rule? That was probably wishful thinking on her part. Her father had been a dictator, just a grade above bully, and her relationships with men had given her a master’s degree in understanding that her primary attraction for most beaus courting her as she grew up were her money, pedigree and contacts. While Jonas hadn’t seemed a cookie-cutter replica, their time together had been too short to notice if there was any lasting there there.

“You’re being ultraquiet,” E.D. said.

“I’m remembering moments with Jonas.”

“Do you need me to call 911 for a tow to get your mind out of the gutter?” E.D. asked, a smile creeping into her voice.

“Those days are over.”

“Alyx, don’t talk like that. You’re way too young to let even this nightmare deny you the kind of relationship and love I believe is out there for you.”

Wanting the comfort of her privacy, Alyx turned professionally cool. “You’ll forget I called?”

E.D. made a soft sound of regret. “I really am glad you did. Please. Ring me again. I’m sorry I was of no help, but I am trying…and wanting you to heal.”

Hesitating, Alyx stared back at Grace, who’d abandoned the front door to stand before her. No doubt she found her tone discomforting, or wanted her mistress, or would like the front door open to just escape. “You were more help than you know,” she told E.D., managing to sound almost tender. “I’m sorry for being such a—anyway, give that luscious baby a kiss for me.”

“How sweet. I’ll give him two. Call me anytime.”

Once Alyx heard E.D. disconnect, she shut off her phone, immediately diving into introspection. Contrary to what she’d said, she hadn’t really learned anything she didn’t already know, and she’d been trained by the best to be skeptical of support or flattery.

You learned that she and Dylan thought Jonas had been sincerely disappointed in being rejected.

It was hopeless—and perfect. Confirmation that she was a hard-hearted, cold witch. Hurrah, she thought grimly. She hadn’t lost her edge one iota, bad news for the Realtor who wanted to sell her Austin house, but terrific for her Texas clients, who wanted blood from estranged spouses; they, at least, would be popping corks when they heard that reassuring news.