The Wedding Audition (11 page)

Tiger watched from the top of the refrigerator while Bagel slept on a mat by the door. Two more cats purred from under the table. The scene was downright domestic. Normal, yet also alien to a man who’d lived undercover for so much of his career.

He shoveled another bite in his mouth, chewing, then feeling the weight of Annamae’s stare from across the table.

“What?” he asked self-consciously.

She smiled, her hair loose around her shoulders now. “I’m just trying to envision you as Sigmund Freud, and it’s not meshing for me.”

“I didn’t say I’m a psychiatrist.” He’d turned that psych degree into profiling, with a minor in criminal justice. He’d worked his ass off to get that degree during his days as a street cop.

“Oh, so you’re a psychologist? Or a social worker? It’s still not fitting for me.” She crinkled her nose.

“So you’re the kind to stereotype. What about me doesn’t fit for you? The shrink part or the college educated part?”

She leaned back, eyes wide. “I think you just insulted me again.”

“I’m fairly certain you insulted me this time.” His tone was tight, guarded.

“Then I apologize,” she said with undeniable sincerity. “But you haven’t given me much to go on about yourself.”

True enough. And that was for her own protection. “I’m a private person.”

“Looks to me like you’re a recluse.”

“I told you. I’m burned out. My job … I needed a break.” And that was one hundred percent honest. After a year undercover stint busting the Dimitri crime family, he needed time to recharge. He still wasn’t sure if maybe he needed a whole new course for his life. The thought scared the hell out of him. So many uncertainties. But he couldn’t think about that right now. He just had to make it until the trial.

“People who need a break take a cruise or go to the Florida Keys and get drunk. They don’t commit to an orchard.” Her gaze was sharp, keen.

“Maybe I’m planning on staying here.”

“You plan to support yourself with this? You may want to consider going back to college and study agriculture.” She shoveled another piece of pie into her mouth.

She had a point. And she was digging too close, too deep when he was tempted to see what ice cream and berry juice tasted like on her lips.

“Annamae Jessup, you sure are full of questions. Are you sure you’re just an actress and not an interrogator?”

“Just an actress?” Her voice arched up. It was almost imperceptible, but he had spent years learning to read the nuances of communication. He knew he had struck a nerve.

“You don’t like that label.”

“No,” she admitted, looking down at her dessert. “Going to college wasn’t pretend on the show. I just finished up my degree.”

“Congratulations,” he said and meant it. He knew how tough it was to work full time and go to school. She also had a wealthy family and could have lived off the family if she chose. “You’ll pardon me for having missed your reality show, but I’m not much of one for television. What’s your major?”

“Hospitality. Although I have to confess, I’m crushed you’re not a fan of the show.” She patted her chest and rolled her eyes with overplayed drama, then laughed, a pretty light sound that swirled around the dingy old kitchen.

And lit the dark corners inside him.

Before he could rethink or second guess his actions, he leaned across the table and stroked her hair behind her ear, his knuckles skimming her cheek. God, her skin was soft and warm.

And he was on fire to kiss her.

She didn’t pull away. In fact, her pupils widened with an answering desire so he went for it. He pressed his mouth to hers and damn, but the berries tasted even better on her lips, on her tongue. Desire kicked through him and had him standing without breaking contact because yes, she stood too—.

Just as the security system blared.

‡

T
he security alarm
jolted Annamae back in her seat, back into the reality of what had just happened. God, she’d just kissed a man she barely knew. And while she wanted to act on all the desire screaming through her from that brief contact, shouldn’t she at least sleep on her grandmother’s advice for a little longer?

She scraped back her chair, her dog jumping to his paws on full alert. “I guess the press must have gotten through your gates after all.”

Heath clasped her arm, his grip firm but gentle. “We can’t be so certain it’s the media.”

“Who else could it be? Oh, maybe a bear I guess, which is almost as scary as a reporter,” she joked in hopes of distracting herself from the warmth spreading through her at his touch.

“There are worse things than bears and paparazzi, Red.” He guided her toward the stairs and opened a door, Bagel darting inside then back out again. “Stay in here while I check it out.”

In here
looked a lot like a fallout shelter. Nerves pattered down her spine. “Uhm, I’m not comfortable being shut in there for a number of reasons.” She gestured to the gathering darkness of the room. “Like if you’re psycho or if the bear eats you and I can’t get out and—.”

“Fine,” he groused, “you and Bagel go in the bathroom. Lock the door. And take your cell phone and keep Bagel quiet if you can.”

He thrust her purse into her arms and backed her into the downstairs bathroom before she could blink. Her new pup kept barking and the alarm continued to blare, blare, blare and then….

Silence. Bagel closed his jaws and plopped on his butt, head tipping to the side. Annamae’s heart hammered in her ears.

Why was his reaction so over the top? She appreciated that he cared about security, but that room under the stairs had her questioning what was really going on with his seclusion. The town trusted him, everyone she’d spoken to. Her instincts said he was trustworthy but her instincts were seriously in question these days.

Her ribcage went tight with panic. Her throat began to close with an impending asthma attack that had her digging in her purse for her inhaler.

Three deep breaths later, she burst through the door, determined to go back to her place. Except it wasn’t her place. Was the retirement home still open? She snapped her fingers for the dog to follow her, glanced back to be sure he’d obeyed, then—

She slammed into a rock hard chest. Gulp.

A rock hard chest that called to her to linger. She averted her eyes from Heath’s and took a steadying breath. “If everything’s okay now, I’ll just go.”

“Everything appears to be all right. Just a deer leaping through the grounds and tripping the system. But I can’t be sure until I’ve swept the camera footage of the grounds more thoroughly.”

He had cameras that watched the whole grounds? Had he been watching
her
? She’d thought she was safe from that here.

“Well, then, Heath, how about you watch to make sure I get back to the carriage house and then I’ll lock myself in?” She scooped up her dog and stepped around the handsome hulk in front of her luring her to think with her hormones instead of her mind. She raced to the back door, calling over her shoulder. “Okay? Or maybe I’ll see my grandma or—”

“Annamae.” He palmed the doorframe. “I am not a criminal.”

“Of course you’re not. I know that. You’re just worried about security.” She looked at the panel he’d opened, full of security screens and shivered. Annamae paused, forcing lightness into her features. “Maybe you’re a secret millionaire or deposed prince or whatever. I’m the last one to dig into anybody’s privacy.” She yanked the door open and stepped out onto the porch.

“Listen to me. You need to stop.” He put a hand on her shoulder, the moon and floodlights beaming down. “I’m not wealthy. And I’m not royalty. I’m a cop.”

*

Wynn waited for
her to respond, scanning the property. He’d turned on the floodlights to be sure he could keep an eye on things while making certain she didn’t sprint off, freaked out that he might be a serial killer. So, eyes on the grounds, he waited for Annamae’s reaction to his declaration.

He didn’t have to wait long.

She laughed. Hard. So hard she sagged back against the door and her dog looked at her like she was crazy. And indeed, there was a hint of hysteria in her laughter.

“What’s so damn funny?” Wynn asked.

She wiped a wrist across her eyes. “You’re the least cop looking guy I’ve ever met. You wouldn’t make it past the first casting call.”

Fair enough. “That’s what being undercover is all about.”

“Undercover?”

“I’m trusting you with a lot here.” He lowered his voice, nerves still on edge from the alarm. Of course trust was easy when he’d had her investigated and technically she couldn’t leave the grounds unless he let her. But then that would be kidnapping, which clearly she’d thought him capable of two minutes ago. “I am an undercover police detective keeping a low profile until some heat blows over.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“Why would I lie?”

She studied him for a moment, her sharp eyes taking him all in. He felt the pull of attraction to her again as he met her gaze. The corners of her mouth faintly pulled upwards. A nervous half-smile played on her lips. “To lure me back inside to kill me and stuff my body into a freezer?”

Just from her flippant answer he could tell she was relaxing. Trusting.

“Let’s sit out here on the porch, out in the open, and do some Googling.”

“Uhm, Googling?”

“You’ll see.” He dropped down on the bench, leaving a space free beside him, while making sure he could still access the gun tucked under his loose shirt over his t-shirt. He pulled out his phone and launched Google, the sound of night bugs mingling with the tones of his phone.

She chewed her bottom lip, then sat slowly. “Okay, it’s not like I could actually make a run for it if you’re truly a psycho.”

“A ringing endorsement of my character. Thanks. But if I’d wanted to kill you, you never would have made it out the front door. Lucky for you, I’m completely legit.” He passed her his phone. Complete with an article about the Dimitri bust.

Her brow furrowed, her eyes moving as she read. “This Wynn Rafferty, the policeman who solved the case but lost his partner. You’re his partner and you’re not really dead?”

His chest burned with memories of how fast that day had gone to hell. He kept an eye on the property in front of him, alert to any movements.

“I’m Wynn Rafferty.”

“You’ve even been lying about your name,
Heath Lambert
?”

“I’m trusting you right now, a woman I only just met.” He took his phone back to thumb through photos about the story until one landed on an image of his face, an earlier photo of him wearing his uniform. “Probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”

“Then why are you doing it?” She looked up at him, her cheek close to his shoulder. Her scent a light sweetness in his nose that made him want to bend closer.

“Because I hate the fear I just saw in your eyes. I’ve worked my whole life to protect people from feeling that way.”

He held the edge of the phone until she took it from him, her gaze dropping to the article detailing the bust on the Dimitri drug syndicate. How during that bust a couple of kids from the local high school had shown up to try and bring their friend out of the gang. One of those teens got shot and killed by Dimitri himself—a teen Wynn knew from his earlier work at a rec center. To this day he blamed himself for that kid’s death. For that instant when the youth looked at him and recognition lit in the boy’s eyes. How damn tragic that in trying to save the kid through working at the rec center, he’d ultimately caused the youth’s death. The boy had followed in his footsteps, trying to save others.

Wynn rubbed his forehead, pressing against an ache that never went away. “I’ll just be glad when the trial is over and life can return to normal.”

Or something like normal. He had no idea what that meant for him, but the thought of returning to his work in Miami turned him cold.

She tapped the edge of his phone. “I remember this case.”

God, he sure as hell would never forget. “The Dimitri family connection made the headlines—they have friends in high places. Guess you and I are both well known in our own way.”