A Good Kind of Trouble (A Trouble in Twin Rivers Novel Book 1) (45 page)

"Of course you can. But you usually don't." He put an arm around his wife and kissed her cheek.
 

"Well, of course not," Liz said. "She's never been in trouble before."

Ben snorted and Lindsey shot him a warning look. Her parents didn't need to know the details of her recent troubles. He shook his head and returned to helping Jude navigate the new pane into place.
 

Lindsey watched from the couch as West and Liz swept up the glass from the porch and tidied up the living room. She’d tried to stand on her own, but her ankle was still throbbing and her parents had commanded her back to the couch. Within a short time, Jude and Ben had completed the window installation and were gathering up the tools and scraps of wood. Jude gave Ben instructions on painting the fresh wood window frame, then gave Lindsey a wave and a smile before departing with her effusive thanks.
 

Lindsey’s parents exchanged a glance and then picked up their coats from the back of the sofa.
 

“We’re staying at Kathleen’s tonight. She insisted,” Liz said. “We’ll just go get a little nap and get cleaned up and we’ll bring dinner by later. You get some rest.”
 

She stroked Lindsey’s hair, then kissed her head.
 

West shook Ben’s hand. “You should get some sleep, son. You’re going to need plenty of rest if you’re going to keep up with my daughter.”
 

“Yes, sir,” Ben said, giving Lindsey a smile that made her heart lurch again.
 

When the door shut, the house was silent except for the sound of Steve’s soft snoring. Ben leaned against the door and gave her a long, intense look that she couldn’t read.
 

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“I’m alright.”

“Are you in any pain?”

She shook her head. “No, not right now. You must be exhausted. Did you get any sleep?”

“No. I’m fine, though,” he said. “Liz Allen just hugged me.”
 

“You never answered me before. Please tell me you don’t have a crush on my mother.”
 

He grinned and her heart leapt. “No, I’ve only got eyes for another blonde. Maybe you know her? Really pretty. Smart as hell. Stubborn as anything. Knows her way around a canister of pepper spray.”
 

He moved to the couch, sitting beside her, then shifting her so she was in his arms, reclined against his chest. She sighed and leaned into him, his arms encircling her and his chin resting on the top of her head.
 

“I think you just described my mom,” Lindsey said.
 

“Don’t get me wrong, Liz Allen is pretty impressive. I grew up watching her on the evening news.” She felt his breath on her ear as he leaned close and laughed. “No wonder I can’t keep you out of trouble. Is it a genetic impulse to run towards trouble?”

His comparison sparked a warm glow inside her. “I hope not. I don’t know how she did it all those years.”
 

She pulled away so she could look at him. “I was surprised to find you here.”
 

He reached up, cupped his hand behind her neck, and stared into her eyes. Her skin tingled from the heat of his fingers. Her lips parted, an unconscious response to Ben’s nearness and his intense expression.
 

“I would have stayed with you at the hospital but I had to give a statement to the police and then check on Lyle. Jude came back early, and I picked him up at the airport.”

“Is Lyle okay?”
 

Ben stroked her jaw, drawing a tremor and a sigh from her. His eyes never left hers. He nodded.
 

 
“He’s fine. Gordo made sure he got home before he got into more trouble. Then I got a call from Matt Pritchard. Stanton's been charged with kidnapping and assault," he said. "Matt said Stanton's been more than willing to tell the FBI what Teri Schulman and Lara Petrie have been up to."
 

Lindsey tilted her head, leaning into Ben’s hand. Her eyes closed as the heat from his palm warmed her skin. "Did he say if Teri was arrested yet?"
 

"No, not yet. She chartered a private jet to Mexico. There's a warrant out for her and once she’s been caught, she’ll be brought back to face fraud charges. Unfortunately, with a few million dollars in offshore accounts, she might be able to hide for a while."
 

"Fraud charges? Not corruption?" Lindsey’s eyes opened at that news. She had assumed that the government was only investigating EFB.
 

“Apparently, Stanton confirmed a lot of what you suspected with the property sales when he spoke to the FBI last night," Ben said, his thumb brushing her cheek and sending shivers down her spine. "If you're interested, Matt said you can call his cell phone and he'll keep you updated on the progress, if he can."
 

Lindsey sat up and started to reach for the phone on the end table, but Ben gently took her hand.
 

"Later," he said, kissing her hand. "You can call him later."
 

She smiled and leaned back into the couch, settling closer to him this time. "Sorry, bad habit."
 

He reached up, his fingers tracing the border of the bandage at her temple, where she had banged her head after Stanton pushed his way into the house. It wasn't like Ben hadn't seen her banged up in the last few weeks, but now, with him staring at her so intently, her confidence faltered. She reached up to touch the bandage and their fingers touched, sending a spark through her.
 

Ben cupped her face and tilted her head so she was looking at him again. His eyes were serious, his mouth—God, she couldn't stop looking at his mouth.
 

"Lindsey," he said, his voice low and hoarse. The way he said her name sent a chill down her spine. She sighed at the sound, closing her eyes. She felt him lean in and raised her chin in anticipation.
 

And nothing happened.

She opened her eyes and found herself staring into Ben's eyes—still serious, but a hint of a smile played at the corners.

"I thought you were going to kiss me."
 

"Oh, sweetheart," he said, his voice rough. "I'm going to kiss you."
 

Her insides trembled at the promise in his voice. How did he manage to do this to her? She'd never tire of hearing him say her name, looking into her eyes.
 

"Anytime soon?" she whispered.
 

The smile grew and the warm glow inside her heated up.

His expression was serious again and she reached up to touch his face, feeling the rough stubble. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. She leaned forward, touching her lips to his and igniting the spark. It spread through her body, and at the sound of his groan, consumed her like a wildfire. She deepened the kiss, feeling him respond under her lips.
 

"God, Lindsey," he breathed, pulling away. He threaded his fingers through her hair and leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers. "I mean it, love. When I saw that gun, I just—"
 

"Ben…," she said, closing her eyes and sinking into the feeling of his hands on her neck and her face.
 

His body relaxed a little, but he didn't let go. "I just realized how much I love you, Lins. If anything had happened to you—"
 

She pulled back and cupped his face in her hands. His eyes were intense, his face serious.
 

"You love me?"
 

One side of his mouth quirked up. "Yes, you impossible woman. I love you."
 

She leaned forward, closing the short distance between them. The kiss was unhurried this time and she ran her hand along his face.
 

"After all the trouble I caused you? After everything—the injuries, the ethical problems I caused you? I mean, I got you fired."
 

He smiled and kissed her again. "You can't scare me off that easily."
 

Her heart fluttered at his words.
 

"Have I convinced you to stay yet?"
 

"I can't leave now," she said. "Not when I've just realized how much I love you."
 

The relief crossing his face said so much.
 

"Just promise me that if you take on anything this dangerous in the future, you'll let me help," he said.
 

"I promise,” she whispered, then touched her lips to his lightly. It was a kiss that promised something deeper. “Trust me."

* * *

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

This book wouldn’t be possible without the support of my friend and critique partner, Debra, who read each word, multiple times, and made them better. Thanks, too, to Sylvia, the best beta reader around. I am eternally grateful for the guidance of editor Jodi Henley, whose insight and advice made the story stronger. Edie’s Edits made sure I said what I meant to say.
 

I am also grateful for the supportive community of writers at Romance Divas, without whom I would not have written or published this book. There is no way to express how much I have learned from the talented and generous writers there.
 

As always, thank you to my husband for indulging my distracted state while immersed in a fictional world and for urging me forward in everything.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Ellie Ashe has always been drawn to jobs where she can tell stories—journalist, lawyer, and now writer. She lives in California with her husband and ever-expanding collection of domesticated animals. Ellie is hard at work writing the second novel in the Twin River Mysteries series. She also writes the Miranda Vaughn Mysteries, published by Gemma Halliday Publishing. Learn more and connect with Ellie at her website,
www.EllieAshe.com
.
 

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As always, thank you for reading!

If you enjoyed
A Good Kind of Trouble
, please let others know! You can help other readers enjoy this story by lending it to a friend, recommending it to others, or leaving a review telling other readers why you liked it.
 

Other works by Ellie Ashe

Chasing the Dollar
, Miranda Vaughn Mysteries, book 1

Miranda Vaughn was just found not guilty of fraud, putting an end to the worst year and a half of her life. And now the trouble really starts. Determined to find who set her up, Miranda begins her own investigation—leading her to Macau and Belize, and into the arms of a sexy FBI agent who has his own agenda.
 

"High stakes, high energy, and a highly humorous good time! From Belize to Macau, this is one globe trotting adventure you don't want to miss!" — Gemma Halliday, New York Times Bestselling author
 

Chasing Tinsel
, A Miranda Vaughn Mysteries Holiday Novella

Two years after she was accused of fraud, Miranda Vaughn is finally back to work. But instead of returning to her highly paid position as an investment banker, she’s selling discount make-up at Prospect Point Mall to make a little extra holiday cash. It’s not a great job, but Miranda wants to make this Christmas special for the people who stood by her during her trial.
 

But strange things are afoot at Prospect Point, from the shady elves with the neck tattoos to the shadowy figures she sees in the parking garage. Is trouble following Miranda—again?

Dropping the Dime
, Miranda Vaughn Mysteries, book 2

Assistant to her former defense attorney isn’t Miranda Vaughn’s dream job, but her first task is a simple one—protect a CFO turned informant, and help her prove embezzlement. But what should be a straightforward assignment is complicated when Miranda is thrown together with a hot FBI agent who saved her life, broke her heart, and then disappeared.

Excerpt from
Chasing the Dollar

C
HAPTER
O
NE

“Not guilty.”
 

The two words sliced through the thick atmosphere in the courtroom, and my heart leapt. The boa constrictor of stress that had been wound around my body for the last year and a half eased a tiny bit. Next to me, my attorney, Robert Fogg, tensed. We weren’t remotely done, his body language warned.

“As to Count Two, wire fraud, the jury finds the defendant—”
 

A pause. Why was the clerk pausing?
 

“Not guilty.”
 

The breath escaped my lungs, but Rob put a cautious hand on my arm warning me not to get too excited yet. He’d spent much of the last fourteen months explaining the odds, explaining the process that I’d face if I insisted on going to trial, comparing the risk I’d face with the known quantity of the plea offer—a mere four years in prison if I agreed to a plea deal and admitted to defrauding clients of the investment bank where I’d been an analyst, compared to ten years or more I risked if I was convicted at trial. And I’d almost certainly be convicted, Rob had assured me. Even if the witnesses against me were convicted felons, liars, conmen who would say anything to get a break on their own prison sentences. The documents were undeniable, incontrovertible evidence of my guilt.
 

“As to Count Three, wire fraud, the jury finds the defendant—”
 

Damn her, why the dramatic pause?
 

“Not guilty,” she finished.
 

This time I glanced over at the jury and made eye contact with several of them, my heart still in my throat. Instead of the impassive expressions they’d worn in the last two weeks, they looked relaxed. Friendlier. Less scary. And they were looking at me. That was one of the signs Rob told me might signal a favorable verdict. If the jury walked in and wouldn’t look at me, they probably had convicted me. When they had filed in with their completed verdict forms, I was too nervous to look in their direction.