Almost Forever (6 page)

Again Justin hesitated, but in the hope she would be able to help, he admitted, “He was naked when he was buried. His clothes were dumped next to him in the grave.”

Lori's mouth dropped open. “Naked? What could that mean?”

Justin shrugged. “No idea…yet. How about shoes? What kind would he have been wearing?”

“Shoes?” She shook her head. “Mark never wore shoes unless he was at the gym. He preferred cowboy boots, expensive ones, handmade for him by a guy at his favorite shop in San Antonio.”

Justin made mental notes. “I'll need his name too.”

“No problem. It was Two-Step Boots. I think the guy he usually dealt with was named Tom or Tim or something like that.”

“Do you remember which pair was missing?”

“Now that you mention it, he had just picked up a new pair. They had clusters of grapes and a longhorn steer standing in bluebonnets on each one. Plus, he always had his name sewn inside the bootstraps. And I don't remember seeing them among the ones I packed up and gave away.”

“Expensive?”

“They were alligator, twelve-inch tops, cognac upper calf. They were expensive. Around three thousand dollars, I think.”

“Three thousand!” he exclaimed.

“Handcrafted are always more.”

“I wouldn't wear them outside for that kind of money.”

“They were really nice. The cobbler created a mold of Mark's feet and custom-made the boot just for him.”

“Must have taken a while.”

“Three months. They fit perfectly the first time Mark put them on.”

Justin considered that information. “Why would someone steal his boots?”

“It's Cinderella, Texas style,” she retorted, the anger returning to her voice. “Check under all the beds in town. I can guarantee that they're not under mine.”

Justin didn't speak all the way back to the house, mostly because of the noise of the ATVs but also because he was deep in thought. He knew the boots could be a clue…or their absence could mean nothing. They were made of leather, and the ME had already said the feet were either exposed or near the surface, where the boots would have likely been dragged away or chewed up. It seemed possible that they would have been buried with the body and the rest of the clothing.

They parked the ATVs back in the stable and shut the doors. As they turned to walk in opposite directions, Lori stopped.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” She ducked her head shyly. “I have lasagna already made, and Kenzie skipped out on me.”

There was almost nothing he'd rather do than stay, but was that wise? He seriously doubted it was. Physically, emotionally, personally…absolutely. But was it too soon for her? Or maybe it wasn't really about him. It might be something as simple—and nonpersonal—as not wanting to eat alone.

He noticed that her eyes glistened suspiciously. “I know you're probably busy….” Lori looked away. “I guess I'm a little more shaken up about this whole thing than I thought I'd be.” She straightened, as if forcing herself to be strong. “That's okay. Thanks for letting me go with you.” She turned and took a step toward her house.

Her ass looked great in those tight jeans, and Justin knew everything about this was wrong. The Texas Ranger in him knew he should leave, the red-blooded male said he should take advantage of her loneliness, but the gentleman who would make his mother and grandmother proud knew he had to stay and keep her company…and nothing more. How could he say no when she'd practically admitted to needing him?

“I
am
hungry, and I've got nothing planned for this evening,” he called after her. “If the offer's still good, I'll help you eat that lasagna.”

She stopped in midstride. With her back still to him, he saw her take a deep breath and lift her hands to her face. To wipe away tears? He definitely heard a sniffle before she turned toward him and managed a weak smile. She didn't say it, but he could see the gratitude in her eyes. “It'll just take me a half hour to finish cooking it.”

He caught up to her, and they walked side by side to her house. The coolness of the air-conditioning was welcome after their hot, dusty afternoon. Justin hung his hat on the hall tree next to hers. “I need to wash up. Where's the restroom?”

“On the other side of the stairs, across the hall from Mark's office.”

By the time he returned, the lasagna was in the oven, and Lori was washing vegetables for a salad. He unbuttoned his sleeves and rolled them up as he joined her next to the sink.

“What can I do to help?”

“Do you like cucumbers in your salad?”

“Sure, everything but onions and bell peppers.”

She handed him a peeler. “Know how to operate this?”

“Are you kidding me? I'm the chief potato peeler every Sunday at Grammy's.”

Lori passed a cucumber to him. “I think that's so nice that you're close to your grandmother. Do your parents live around here?”

“No, they died in a car accident when I was in law school. At least they were together.” His hands stilled for a moment as images flickered through his brain of his parents, who had been happily married for over twenty-four years. They'd almost made it to their silver anniversary. They'd had the kind of marriage he eventually wanted. He shook off the memories and continued. “All three of us were grown, so it wasn't as hard as it would have been if we were younger.”

“How many brothers and sisters do you have?” She tore the romaine lettuce leaves into bite-sized pieces and dropped them in a bowl.

“Two brothers, no sisters. One's a DEA agent here in Austin, and the other is a Homeland Security officer in DC. How about you?” Justin finished peeling the cucumber. “Slices or chunks?”

“Slices,” she answered, then added, “I have a brother who lives north of Austin. I hardly ever see him or my mother, who remarried and moved to Houston. My dad is dead.”

Justin dropped the cucumber slices into the salad bowl. “I'm sure my brothers and I would rarely get together if it wasn't for Grammy. We all used to spend several weeks each summer at her farm, and she still treats us like we're kids. She cooks a big meal every Sunday and we're expected to be there if we're in town. Sometimes I wish I could just sleep in, but it's kind of a nice tradition.”

“It sounds wonderful. My family never was particularly close, but I loved Mark's parents. I really miss them.”

“Was Mark an only child?”

“Yes, and he must have always gotten everything he wanted. I don't think he knew the meaning of the word
no
. He definitely didn't like to hear it from me.”

They worked in tandem well, their arms occasionally brushing as they passed from the sink to the counter. And every minute Justin grew more aware of the woman beside him. In the back of his mind was the nagging reminder of how wrong it was for him to fraternize with a suspect. Conversely, he couldn't remember the last time he'd been so attracted to someone.

The oven timer dinged, and Lori took the pan of lasagna out of the oven. She placed it on the island on a hot pad. Justin put the bowl of salad next to it.

“Could you watch the garlic bread?” she asked as she took dishes off the shelf to set the table.

Justin obediently bent over so he could see into the lower oven, where the bread was toasting under the broiler. He heard the refrigerator door open.

“Are you off duty?”

He twisted his head around and saw that she was holding a bottle of wine. Was he off duty? His day had officially ended, and he wasn't exactly focusing on the case right now. Sure, they had talked about Mark, but to be honest, the dead man was no longer dominating his thoughts. Could he keep his objectivity if this evening turned from business to social?

But then he considered that everyone deserved some downtime, and was it a crime to want to spend it with a beautiful woman?

He took his gun out of its holster and reached over her to put it on top of the refrigerator. He would have towered over most females, but Lori was only about four inches shorter, so that when he looked down and she looked up, their faces were close…too close.

Lori could feel the warmth of his body radiating out. He smelled like mint and sunshine. Her breath caught in her throat, and a rush of blood pumped through her veins. Her eyes focused on his lips, strong, masculine lips, and she had a sudden, irresistible desire to taste them. It had been so long since she had been kissed or caressed.

Not that there hadn't been a steady stream of men who had found their way to her doorstep, hoping she would be lonely enough to invite them in, including her creepy neighbor, Winston. It wasn't that the man wasn't attractive, in a Harrison Ford kind of way. He was just so pushy and hit on her a lot harder than she felt comfortable with, considering the difference in their ages and the fact that she had been, at that time, neither a divorcée nor a confirmed widow.

The truth was, she had just not been tempted or ready for a new relationship. Having Mark simply disappear had left Lori in limbo. She never knew if he was going to come back and try for a reconciliation, which she wouldn't have welcomed but, for Mackenzie's sake, would have tried. Or he could have come back and kicked her and her daughter out on the street. But she wasn't going to give him a reason by becoming involved with another man.

Until a tall, handsome Texas Ranger walked into her life.

Of course, his reason for being here complicated matters rather than simplified them. Still, she couldn't cool the urge to rip Justin's clothes off and make mad, passionate love with him right here on the kitchen floor.

Not that he would be interested in satisfying her desires. He was here as an officer of the state, investigating a murder. And she wasn't naive enough not to realize that she was probably the number one suspect. She loved suspense movies and books. Didn't they always assume the spouse did it? Justin was likely hanging out just to see if she would slip up and tell him something that would solve the mystery of Mark's death.

Damn it, she wished he weren't wearing that star. In over eight years, even more if you considered how little attention she had gotten from her husband the years before that, she had not had such a strong, immediate physical reaction to a man. She knew that under that white shirt were well-toned muscles…tanned skin…strong but gentle hands…and a dick that could ease that ache in her groin.

Horrified at the direction of her wayward thoughts, she abruptly backed away, breaking the magnetic pull of his masculinity. “Uh…does that mean you're off duty?” She wasn't happy that her voice sounded as shaky as she was feeling.

He too stepped back, confusion clouding his sky blue eyes. “Even Rangers get time off to eat.”

“And drink? Would you like a glass of wine?” She held up a chilled bottle with the CSC logo on the label.

“I'm usually a beer kind of guy, but I'll try a glass. Because it's one of yours, right?”

“Nothing but. It's aged three years. We had a good harvest that year. The grapes don't like to stand in water, and we didn't get a lot of rain.”

She poured them each a glass and handed him one. Was it inappropriate to toast to finding out her husband was dead? There was still the matter of his being found naked and the other questionable circumstances surrounding his death. Had a jealous husband caught Mark in bed with his wife and beat the shit out of him? Definitely worth toasting. Or had he been attacked, stripped, and tortured before he was murdered? Not appropriate for toasting. She settled for lifting her glass in a silent salute to the meal before taking a drink.

“The bread!” She noticed the wisp of smoke coming from the oven just as the smell of burning garlic toast reached her nostrils.

Justin rushed to save it, but it was too late. The bread was several shades past edible. He stood in the middle of the kitchen, holding a steaming pan of charred chunks.

For some reason it struck her as funny. It was definitely not the image most people had of a Texas Ranger. She started giggling, and his lips—those beautiful lips—twitched into a smile.

“I think I can make the call on this.” He dumped the toast into the sink.

“I can make more.”

“Nah, I'm too hungry, and that lasagna smells great. I can live without bread.”

She sat on one of the barstools and reached for the salad bowl. “Oh, I forgot the dressing.” She started to stand, but he waved her back down.

“Hey, I dropped the ball on the bread. The least I can do is get the dressing.” He took a bottle of raspberry vinaigrette out of the refrigerator and carried it to the island, where he sat on the stool next to Lori. She passed him the salad bowl.

After digging into the lasagna, he took a drink of the wine, and his eyes widened in amazement. “This is really good.”

“That's made from apples. I added it to our list several years ago. I like that it's crisp and fresh.”

“Like biting into an apple,” he agreed. “But I didn't see any apple trees.”

“I buy the juice from an orchard in Llano. Mostly Fuji and Gala because it's a good mix of sour and sweet. I prefer to use Texas products when I can, but most of my grapes come from California.”

He seemed surprised. “You don't use your own grapes?”

“Sure, but we've grown too large. We were producing about ten thousand cases a year, but now we're up to twenty thousand cases a year. For that we need three hundred forty tons of grapes, and our vines don't produce but about half that. Plus, we can't grow the species that make the best chardonnays.”

“Three hundred forty tons! Wow! I never would have guessed.”

“We're one of the smaller wineries, so that's actually not very much,” Lori explained. “Our grapes are just as good as California's, but it's more of a challenge to grow them here because of the clay soil and heat. But I'll bet you didn't know that the first vineyard in North America was here in Texas back around 1659, started by Franciscan priests.”

Justin studied her with a smile. “You really have a passion for this, don't you?”

“I do. It's funny because I'd never even seen a farm when I was growing up. Can you imagine a Texas girl who has never ridden a horse?”

“I suspect that's common nowadays.”

“Well, I took to the country like a pioneer. I love the feel of the dirt in my hands and the smell of ripe grapes on the vines. And I love the intricacies of winemaking. We modernized some of the steps, but mostly it's still done the good old-fashioned way.”

“I went on a brief tour last Saturday, but I think I'd rather have you as my guide.”

Lori smiled. “Sure, just drop by, and I'll show you how it's done. We're crushing now, so we're pretty busy.”

“You don't actually work in the winery, do you?” he asked between bites.

“I have. But I have an excellent manager who I let handle the production.”

“I meant to ask you about your employees. How many are there?”

“Two full time in the winery, three in the restaurant, and a bartender in the tasting room. During peak times we also hire about a dozen extras.”

“Were any of them here when Mark was alive?”

“There wasn't a restaurant then, and I think Raúl is the last one left. Oh, and his sister, Raquel. You met her today in the restaurant. She's a server and helps out in the kitchen.”

“I'll need to interview them.”

“No problem. They live on the premises, so they're almost always here, unless they've run into town on an errand.” She was disappointed that the conversation had turned back to the investigation. For a moment there, she had been able to enjoy a meal in the company of an attractive man.