Scandal in Copper Lake

“So you’re in the psychic business,” Tommy said.

“And let me guess—you’re in the skeptic business.”

“Nah. He’s skeptical enough for both of us.” He jerked his head toward Robbie. “Besides, my great-grandma Rosa was from the old country, and she was a big believer in the evil eye and spirits and all that. Are you setting up business here in town?”

“My visit here is nothing more than that. A visit. A break from Savannah.”

“And yet the first thing you do is call Lydia.”

Who’d told her husband, who’d told his lawyer, who’d told the local cop. “If you don’t believe me, Detective, feel free to keep an eye on me.”

He glanced at Robbie. “It might get kind of crowded.”

So Robbie had already made clear his intention of doing just that. She didn’t mind. She’d been viewed with suspicion and distrust before, and would be again. She shifted her gaze to Robbie. “And here I thought it was just coincidence running into you outside River’s Edge this morning,” she said sweetly.

“No, you didn’t,” Robbie replied bluntly. “You knew when I left your house yesterday that you’d be seeing me again.”

That she would see him, and have no regrets about him when she left. Whether that meant sleeping with him—or not—she didn’t yet know.

Whether it meant trusting him—or not—was still a question, as well.

She picked up her purse and reached for the ticket the waitress had brought with their food. Robbie slid it out from under her fingers and switched it to his other hand. She smiled faintly. She could insist on paying for her share of the meal, but there would be other, more important things to argue about than a salad and half a sandwich.

“Thank you.” She stood, and her denim skirt fell into place, the cotton of her shirt shifted, and two appreciative male gazes watched. She offered her hand. “It’s a pleasure meeting you, Detective.”

His hand was warm, his grip strong but restrained. “Let’s do it again without him.”

She thought of Ellie Chase, doing one of the thousand daily jobs vital to the running of the restaurant, and the way he’d looked at her when she’d walked away from him. He would be a safe choice for a spring affair—handsome, sexy, totally in love with another woman. Her heart might break for him, because she suspected if she got to know him, she would like him very much, but it wouldn’t be broken by him.

Still holding his hand, she bent close, her mouth almost brushing his ear. “As if you aren’t already taken,” she murmured. “But if you need a friendly ear or a soothing tonic, you know where to find me.”

When she straightened, Robbie’s gaze was narrowed, not quite forming a scowl but definitely hinting of something territorial, something…primal. As safe as Tommy was, Robbie was twice that dangerous.

He followed her to the cash register near the front door, paid the tab, then they walked outside. He held the envelope under one arm while putting on a pair of dark glasses. She had sunglasses in her purse, big ones that Mama Odette called her movie-star glasses, but she didn’t bother with them. Perhaps it was the Cuban in her, or the Haitian or the African, but she loved the sun, bright and hot. Loved the air heavy with moisture and the lazy, languid way it made her feel.

“Do the contents of that envelope concern me?” she asked when they’d walked half a block in silence.

“Why would you think that?”

“Oh, gee, I don’t know. Your client asks you on Tuesday to look into my background, and on Wednesday your detective friend shows up with an unmarked envelope of ‘papers’ you talked about. Call it…”

“A premonition?” he supplied drily.

“Intuition.”

He didn’t respond but followed when she turned in midblock and jaywalked to the square. The paths there were shaded by giant oaks and were sweetly scented by the plantings along the edges. She was wondering what he would do if she simply slipped the envelope away from him. Would he take it back or let her look inside? Could there be anything inside worth seeing? Her financial history? Her arrest report? The legendary permanent record that had followed her from kindergarten to twelfth grade?

She knew all those details of her life. Seeing them in official report format didn’t interest her.

“Tommy’s not available,” Robbie said abruptly.

“I saw that.”

“You mean—”

“Even a blind man could see the emotion coming off the two of them. What’s the problem?”

He shrugged, obviously unwilling to share. “What did you say to him?”

She shrugged, too, equally unwilling to share.

In only a moment, they were approaching her car. She would have walked longer with him. If he offered a tour of downtown, or even the whole town, she would accept. It was a beautiful day, the air fresh with promise, and there was something about walking with him—being with him—that filled her with promise.

But he wasn’t making any offers.

She unlocked her car, then opened the door to disperse the heat collected inside. “Thank you for lunch.”

“You’re welcome.” He held out his hand, and for a time she simply stared at it.

His voice was taut when he spoke. “You shook hands with Ellie and Tommy. You can damn well shake hands with me.”

She continued to stare. His fingers were long and lean, hinting at power. The nails were short, the skin tanned, with a few old scars and a callus here and there. They were hands that could arouse and soothe and protect, that could hurt but wouldn’t. Hands that could shake her world so thoroughly that nothing would ever be the same again. She would never be the same again.

Her own hands stayed at her sides. “Touching can be a very casual thing,” she said softly. “It can also be very powerful. Very hurtful. Very healing.” She paused, moistened her lips, debated the wisdom of her next words and said them anyway. “Come home with me. I’ll touch you there. Not here.”

For an instant, time stopped. Then anger turned to passion, heat suffused his face, and for an instant his hand trembled, brought to a stop immediately when he clenched his fingers into a fist. He took a step back, opened his mouth, but didn’t say anything.

What was he thinking? That his demand for a handshake was certainly no invitation to seduction? That she was too bold for his tastes? That she was arrogant to think he wanted her in bed?

Or that Calloway men didn’t sleep with women of questionable reputation?

For generations, Duquesne women had been lovers of such men, had carried on their affairs in secret and birthed their daughters with no help, no money or even acknowledgment from them. Mama Odette speculated that Anamaria’s own father was just such a man.

Anamaria had never thought she would be drawn to a man who found her unsuitable because of the color of her skin or the life she’d been born into—because of who she was—but here she stood.

Robbie took another step back, then dragged his fingers through his hair. “Jeez. I haven’t been speechless since I found out that my brother the cop was marrying a stripper.” And here he was, the successful lawyer, fielding a brazen seduction offer from a con artist.

She could tell him the offer stood. She could let him believe her only intent had been to shock. She could tell him it was inevitable, if they kept seeing each other, if nothing cooled this ardor between them.

Her smile formed slowly, growing until it was full and sly, looking as real as she knew it wasn’t. “In a lawyer, ‘speechless’ is a good thing,” she said, her voice huskier than usual. She pulled on her sunglasses, then slid behind the steering wheel, gazing up at the dark-tinted view of him. “I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

He was still standing in the street when she drove away. She wasn’t sure as she watched him in the rearview mirror whether she’d saved herself from a huge mistake.

Or made one.

Robbie wasn’t sure how long he stood there—long enough for his brother to come along, thumping him on the back of the head as he came up from behind.

“I know Mom taught you not to play in the street despite Rick’s and my best efforts to convince you otherwise,” Russ said, not breaking stride until he reached the sidewalk.

His scalp stinging, Robbie took the few steps necessary to bring Russ into punching range, then shoved him on the shoulder. “I’m not ten years old anymore. Quit hitting me.”

“I’ve been hitting you since you were old enough to understand the threat implied in ‘Don’t tell Mom.’ Why would I stop now?”

“Jeez, I don’t know. Because I’m thirty-two freakin’ years old, maybe?” Robbie asked snidely. “Where are you going?”

“To see my wife.” Russ gestured to Jamie’s office, down the block twenty feet and across the corner.

“I’ll walk with you. My car’s in her parking lot.”

“What were you doing in the street?”

Wondering what the hell was wrong with him. Why he hadn’t gotten in his car—hell, gotten in Anamaria’s car—and gone home with her. It wasn’t the first time a woman had come on to him, but it was the first time he hadn’t jumped at the chance. Anamaria was gorgeous. She was hot. The way she looked, the way she moved, the way she smiled…He choked back a groan.

He must have made some sound, though, because Russ frowned at him. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Just nuts.

“You working today?”

“Yeah. Sort of.” Technically he was—Harrison Kennedy had asked him to keep watch on Anamaria. He could take her up on her offer, have incredible sex and get paid for his fun. Normally, the possibility would amuse him, but he was having trouble thinking clearly today. Lack of blood flow to the brain, he figured.

On the sidewalk outside Jamie’s office, Russ stopped. She was standing behind her desk, flipping through a stack of papers. He tapped on the glass, and she gave him the kind of smile that could cut a man off at the knees.

No woman had ever smiled at Robbie that way, as if he’d brightened her world merely by being part of it. There had been a few who’d gotten close, but he’d ended things with them before it could develop any further, because he’d never come close to feeling that way about them. He expected that someday he would. It had happened to Mitch. To Rick. To Russ. Odds were, it would happen to him.

And, no, damn it, he was not going to think about black hair, liquid-chocolate eyes or powerful touches.

Jamie held up two fingers, and Russ nodded, then leaned against the brick building. “Two minutes, my ass. The more pregnant she gets, the slower she gets. By the time this kid pops, her mama’s going to be slow as a snail.” He didn’t look annoyed, though. He was so excited about the baby that no one could stand him besides Mitch, who had one daughter and another on the way. “We’re having lunch at Ellie’s. Want to go?”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.