Be My Baby (13 page)

There was just one thing to do.

“Hey, Rosebud, we’re here.” He reached over and touched her hand lying limply in her lap, grazing a fingertip back and forth across her knuckles until she opened her eyes. Then he craned around to see in the backseat. “How ’bout you, Miz Roxanne—how you holdin’ up?”

“I’m doing fine, Sergeant.”

Opening the car door, he climbed out and rounded the hood to open the passenger door. He escorted the women inside, watched as they climbed the curving staircase, then pulled the cell phone from his pocket and wandered the deserted first floor as he made a couple calls. Once a few arrangements had been set in motion, he camped himself out in the lobby and tried to ignore his rumbling stomach.

Luke showed up first. Tossing him a white deli bag, from which wafted the unmistakable aroma of a fried oyster po’ boy, he slid the blue nylon duffel in his other hand beneath the chair where Beau sat. “You sure you want to do this, pard?”

“I don’t see where I have much choice if we want
to assure her safety.” He ripped open the sack, unwrapped his sandwich, and took a large bite. “Thanks, Luke. I thought I was gonna starve to death.”

“It’s a damn hotel,” Luke said, looking around the sumptuous lobby. “Doesn’t it have a restaurant?”

“I don’t think it’s up and running yet. At least not for the likes of me. Not likely to be, either, once Juliet gets wind of my plan.” Not even to himself did he acknowledge the tiny surge of satisfaction that plan gave him.

“I’d think she’d be tickled pink. Overflowing with gratitude, in fact.” Beau gave him a look and the corner of Luke’s mouth quirked up in a wry smile. “Then again, we’re talkin’ about the female mind here. Who the hell understands that?”

“Amen to that, brother.” Beau saw his evening replacement’s car cruise by the front entry and surged to his feet. “There’s the little son of a bitch.”

He was out the door and across the drive, yanking open the driver’s-side door of the cruiser practically before the driver had a chance to put the vehicle in park. Beau reached in and hauled the rookie cop out. “Where the hell have you been?”

The patrolman blinked. “A—a Code One was called over at Sacred Heart, and I was the nearest available car,” he stammered.

“The nearest
available
car?” Beau thrust his face at the young rookie’s. “What was your assignment, Officer?”

“To provide surveillance—”

“At Sacred Heart?” Beau barked.

“No, sir. Here. But nothing at all was happening—”

Luke pulled Beau away and said to the rookie, “You don’t even want to go there, kid.”

“No, sir. You’re right, sir.” He straightened his shoulders and met Beau’s eyes. “I apologize, Sergeant. I was derelict in my duty. It won’t happen again.”

“Damn right it won’t,” Beau snarled, muscling Luke aside and getting right back in the young man’s face. “Because you’re not going—”

“Beau.” Luke’s voice was calm, but it held a warning.

Beau pulled back. He took a deep breath and blew it out. Then he shook out his fisted hands. “Get back to your post, Officer.”

“Yes, sir!” The rookie left them with alacrity.

Beau scrubbed his hands over his face as he and Luke walked back toward the hotel entrance. “Christ. Were we ever that young?”

“Yep. And committed larger screw-ups, too.”

“The hell you say. We never went chasing off after bigger and better excitement when we were on the job.”

“Remember the Euterpe Street debacle?”

Beau stopped dead. “Oh. Yeah.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets and gave Luke a sheepish smile. “I’d forgotten all about that.”

“The same way the kid over there is probably hoping to forget this.” He stopped at the door. “If you don’t need anything else, I think I’m gonna call it a day.”

“Yeah, you go ahead. And thanks, Luke. I ap
preciate you bringing my stuff. Thanks for dinner, too.” He watched his friend lope off, and then turned and contemplated the Garden Crown’s imposing facade for a moment. His mood took an inexplicable upswing, and he reached for the door handle.

Time to go break the good news to Juliet Rose.

J
uliet’s emotions were all over the map, and she desperately wanted them under control. The knowledge that someone wanted her dead kept surfacing, though she kept shoving it away. She wished Roxanne were still here with her; yet she was glad she was alone. She was irritable and jumpy, and she paced from room to room, trying time after time to sit down and catch up on work, only to immediately toss aside whatever she attempted to read and leap to her feet, unable to sit still. When someone knocked on her room door, she hurried to open it, hoping it was Roxanne. She hastily snugged up the belt on her silk kimono as she padded barefoot to answer the summons.

The last person she expected to see was Beau, and for an instant she simply stood there staring at him. Then she gave her head a slight shake and recollected her scattered manners. “I thought you’d gone home.”

“I had some stuff to clear up.”

He stepped forward and Juliet found herself taking an automatic step back. The next thing she knew, he was inside and the door was closing behind him. She tilted her chin up. “Is there something I can do for you?”

“Actually, there’s something I’m gonna do for you, dawlin’.” His teeth were whiter than white amid the surrounding dark stubble as he gave her a charming smile. “Your luck has just taken a turn for the better. I’m movin’ in.”

Yes
. She wanted it—God, she’d never
known
she could want something so badly. And that terrified her. “Absolutely not.”

She’d have to be crazy—she’d seen this man in action. There was no way in hell she could allow herself to become dependent upon him. Sooner or later the case would be finished, and he’d turn and walk away. How was she supposed to go back and live in her world then, if she let down the guard it had taken her an entire lifetime to build?

With the killer smile she’d seen him display time after time for dazzled barmaids and strippers, he stepped forward. “Now, angel face, don’t be difficult. It’s not like you’re gonna lose anything by admitting you need me.” He reached for a tendril of hair that had fallen over her eye.

“Read my lips, Sergeant.” She stepped back and blew the strand into place herself. “No. Astor Lowells pride themselves on being self-sufficient.” God, she sounded like such a stuffy little prig. It made no appreciable impact on Beauregard, either, for his smile didn’t diminish one iota.

“I’m sure they do. Especially Big Daddy. But
you’re just gonna have to swallow that pride, sugar, because right now you’re a little out of your element—and like it or not, you do need me.”

“Right—like I need a galloping case of the—” She caught herself in time and cast a guilty glance his way.

The idiot had the temerity to grin wider, as if delighted by how near she’d come to saying something unacceptably crude. His dark gaze traveled slowly from her unbound hair to her bare feet, with about a half dozen stops in between before covering the same territory on the return journey. Her skin flushed, and her nipples grew tight in response. Then, right before her eyes, he turned professional on her, and she was left wondering if she’d somehow imagined that slow, knowing once-over. And if so, what did that say about her—that she was a desperate old maid?

“I know it’s unexpected, Miz Lowell, and probably an inconvenience—but work with me on this. The violence is clearly beginning to escalate, and I don’t like knowing that you’re left unprotected in this big ol’ mausoleum. The obvious solution is to have me move in. Not only will I be in a better position to see to your safety, but we stand a greatly improved chance of catching this guy if we work together on this.”

That was certainly true. Her heart pounded in her chest. It was…logical, really. He definitely had a point.

Dismayed by how quick she was to grab at any ready excuse, she frowned at him. “I fail to see—”

“What’s the matter with you?” He was clearly out of sorts when she neglected to fall for his charm or immediately succumb to his professional rationalization. “Don’t you want to catch this guy?”

“Of course I do!”
I’m just scared to death that it’s not my main consideration here
.

He stepped forward, looming over her. “Then use your head, woman!”

“Dammit, Beau, stop crowding me!” Slapping her hands to his chest, Juliet shoved, not taking a breath until he backed up a step. He scowled down at her and she poked her nose up in the air in rebuttal. “Fine, then, move in,” she agreed coolly, as if that weren’t exactly what she desired. Wondering where this ungracious, childish streak was coming from, and knowing she was overreacting, she nevertheless indicated the duffel bag in his hand and said snootily, “You obviously intend to do exactly that no matter what I say, anyway, so let’s not waste any more breath arguing about it, all right? But I’m putting you in the cockroach room across the hall. And if you don’t like it, that’s just too bad. Take it or leave it.”

Beau studied her for a moment. Then he slung the duffel over his shoulder. “I’ll take it.”

Luke knew he should just go straight home, but he found himself driving to Josie Lee’s house instead. He’d been doing a lot of that lately.

Too damn much. It was as if his car had a homing device that locked on her, and if Beau ever discovered the way Luke was sniffing around his baby sister, there’d be hell to pay. But he couldn’t seem
to stay away. The problem was, the more time he spent in Josie Lee’s company, the harder it was to think of her as a kid. She was funny, and articulate, and they had a lot in common. And, God, that body…

But it was better not to think about that. He reached down to make an adjustment for the sake of comfort, and when he pulled up in front of her house a few minutes later, he sat in the car for a while, waiting for everything to cool down. He’d been keeping it casual. It was beginning to cripple him, but he was doing it anyway. And he intended to continue on in the same vein.

Blowing out a breath, he got out of the car and walked up to the front door.

For an instant, when she opened the door to his knock, Josie Lee looked surprised. But then she gave him a smile that damn near stopped his heart. It was one of those I’m-glad-to-see-you smiles that grabbed a guy by the short hairs and made him think crazy thoughts. Oh, man. What was he doing here?

“Hey, there, Lucas,” she said softly.

“Hey. I wasn’t sure if you’d heard, but Beau—”

“—plans to camp out at the Garden Crown for a while,” she finished his sentence for him. “I do know. I just got off the phone with him.”

“You okay with that? I, um, just thought I’d stop by to make sure you don’t need anything.”

“C’mon in.” She stepped back from the door. “This is really nice of you, Luke. Have you had anything to eat?”

“Yeah, I ate a while ago.”

“Want a Dixie? No, wait”—she interrupted herself this time and flashed another soft, crooked smile. “I bet you’d rather have coffee than a beer, huh?”

She was so damn sweet. “That’d be great.” Hands in his pockets, he ambled in her wake as she headed for the kitchen, trying hard to keep his gaze off the long, bare length of her legs.

“Have a seat,” she invited and scraped out a chair for him as she padded past the kitchen table. “I’ll get a cup.” She pulled a mug from the cupboard and placed it on the table in front of him, then sank down on a chair facing him, folding one leg diagonally across the seat and perching her round butt on the sole of her foot as if she expected to be up and running at any minute. “I started a pot a few minutes ago, so it shouldn’t take long.”

“I’m in no hurry. It’s nice not to have to do for myself for a change. So, are you really okay with being here on your own?” He tried to read her expression, but it didn’t give much away. “You aren’t just putting a good face on things, are you? I mean, you’ve never really talked about how it felt to be a victim of the Panty Snatcher.” He felt heat crawl up his face. “At least that I’ve ever heard of. But then I guess maybe it’s kind of presumptuous of me to suppose I would have. Heard something, that is.”
Shut up, you idiot—you’re babbling
.

She met his eyes easily. “I don’t think it’s presumptuous at all; I think it’s sorta sweet.”

“Sweet. Right. That’s me.” Shit.

She grinned then, that wholehearted Dupree grin she had in common with her brother. “No, truly,
it
is
sweet. And refreshing. At least you’re not tiptoeing around me like I was thirteen years old and the guy raped me.” She planted an elbow on the tabletop and leaned her chin on her fist, gazing at him. “The fact is, it felt…nasty to be forced to strip in front of a stranger. But I was raised by Beauregard, Luke, and you know my upbringing was less than conventional, to say the least. Also, I’d heard y’all discussing this case before I was ever involved in it, and that alone made me different from his other victims, because I knew the way he operated. Mostly what I felt as I stood there buck naked in front of that pervert was
angry
. I wasn’t afraid he’d rape me. I was just plain mad, and all I could think of was what I’d do to him if he gave me the tiniest opening.”

Luke looked at her flashing eyes and flushed cheeks and found himself grinning. “I bet you woulda ripped him a new one.”

“Damn right, shoog.”

Shoog
. Sugar. It was a common endearment used by Yat females—the blue-collar women that Uptowners called “chawmahs.” It was meaningless, really; used generically for every man they came across. And chances were, Josie Lee didn’t mean anything by it now.

So why did it reach down inside him and flip his guts inside out?

The coffeemaker gurgled to a halt and she popped up off her chair and circled him to go to the counter. A second later he heard her pad up behind him. Then she was leaning over his shoulder to fill his cup and her generous breasts pressed
the back of his head, cushioning it for a heart-stopping moment. Rearing back in surprise, he found himself wrapped in heat from ear to ear as his smooth-shaven head snugged a place for itself between the lush fullness. He froze. “Christ, Baby Girl,” he croaked.

“If there’s one thing I no longer am, Luke,” her voice said above him, “it’s a baby.” Then the heat abruptly disappeared as she stepped away.

He swiveled in his chair. She was setting the cup of coffee she’d just poured him on the counter and the pot back on the stove. An instant later, she turned to face him. Her cheeks were red, her eyes black as sin, and he didn’t have to be a member of Mensa to guess her intentions.

“I don’t want to play games anymore,” she said in a low voice. “It’s time I quit acting like a kid and started behaving like a woman. So, as a woman, I’m just gonna come out and say this flat-out. I want you, Luke.”

The words had a direct and immediate effect on his dick, but he desperately tried to persevere in the course he’d set himself. Someone should be handing him a fucking
medal
, he was trying so hard. He stumbled to his feet and backed away. “You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about. I’d better go.”

“You should stay.” She stepped forward. “I know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“You’re too young for me.” Still backing up, he summoned every bit of cynicism at his disposal and gave her a derisive up-and-down. “I go for women, not kids.”

If her ego was dented, it didn’t show. She returned his perusal, stopping at his fly briefly before bringing her gaze back up to his. “Really? That’s not what the big guy there seems to be sayin’.”

His back hit the wall just this side of the doorway. “Yeah, well, the big guy’s not exactly discriminating. Hell, every time I drive past Tastee Donuts he practically stands up and salutes.”

Her long, narrow hands slapped softly against the wall on either side of his shoulders, and she gave him a soft, knowing smile. “Um-hmm.”

“I’m serious, here.” He reached up to grasp her wrists and thrust her arms away, breaking the cage of soft, scented feminine heat that pinned him to the wall.

A huge mistake, as it turned out, for without the wall to support her, she simply collapsed against his chest. Then she lifted up onto her tiptoes, nestled the full weight of her breasts comfortably against him, and leaned in to bite his lower lip.

He should have stood tough. He
intended
to stand tough. But the next thing he knew, he opened his mouth, and her tongue slipped in, and she was hot and sweet and everything he’d dreamed she would be. And then he was kissing her back, and backing her across the room to the table, which he cleared with one impatient sweep of his arm. Ignoring the crash of crockery, he laid her out on top of it, and pinning her hands to its scarred surface, he crawled up on top of her. She gave a muffled laugh and shifted her legs to make a place for him between them, bucking up challengingly against his weight.

And he was a goner.

Beau was restless. And hungry. He paced through the hotel, exploring the areas he hadn’t already been in. At one point he came up behind a wizened little old lady, and the scents that emanated from the covered tray she carried made him follow along in her wake for a while. A guy could only shorten his stride so much, however, before he started looking like a mincing idiot. Besides, it didn’t take long to figure out that her creeping shuffle had her aimed toward the private quarters that housed the Hayneses. Doubting an invitation to join them for a bite to eat would be forthcoming, he peeled off and headed for the staircase.

Dammit, he was hungry, and this was bullshit. He loped down the stairs to the second floor and then strode down the hallway, stopping in front of Juliet’s room. Raising his fist, he pounded on the door.

It was quiet and he started to knock again. Then something that was not so much a sound as an intuitive sense of her on the other side of the door stayed his hand.

“What do you want, Beauregard?” She didn’t open the door.

“How did you know it was me?” he demanded. The door didn’t boast a peephole—something he intended to rectify.

There was a muffled sound that—coming from anyone else—he would have sworn was a snort. “I recognized your suave style of knocking.”