Forever Mine (22 page)

She waved away his second apology. “Sometimes, when my concentration is deep, I don’t process even ordinary sounds. I might not have heard you.”

She stared up at him. Ben’s appearance was always neat, if casual, but today he’d stepped it up somewhat. Every hair was in proper place. A camelhair jacket and chocolate brown dress shirt intensified the brown and gold in his eyes. No sign of the Hermes tie or any other for that matter. Maybe he had a late date. She supposed, with his odd hours, it might not be too unusual to pop in on a girlfriend after midnight. Every time she’d hinted at his marital status, she’d gotten nowhere. Since he was a cop, maybe he was overly protective of his privacy. However, from the few clues she’d garnered, she guessed he was single.

The last five minutes of his shift, Thompson waited downstairs for Ben. They usually exchanged a few words about the case. As yet, however, there was no sign of the other detective.

“I suppose you could wait for your partner down here. Unless you’d rather go right upstairs.”

He shook his head. “No. Not especially. Go upstairs that is.”

Allie scrambled onto her knees. Before she had a chance to gain her feet, Ben cupped her elbow and helped her up. He took his time disengaging his hand. She seemed to remember him doing something like that before but when, where and why escaped her. His familiarity with women, on whatever level, almost never extended to her.
Cop code,
she supposed,
and rightly so.

“Thanks.” Allie removed the pin cushion from her wrist and set it on the nearby sewing machine.

Ben’s gaze shifted from her to the bridal gown. After a long pause, he asked, “You ever been married?”

“What?” The question startled her. She’d shared something of her background with him but nothing too personal, such as men.

“I just wondered. You know. You’d look really good in one of those.” Careful not to touch the pristine satin, he pointed to the gown whose hem she’d been checking when he arrived. “That one, for instance.”

When his eyes shifted to Allie’s, her confusion doubled. Something deep inside warned that his questioning a past marriage had no relation to his police work. But why else would the subject hold any importance for him? She fidgeted with her hands.

“I think I’ll take a short break. Would you like water or a juice?” She scurried into the back room and opened the mini refrigerator.

“No thanks, nothing for me.”

“Oh, I forgot. You’re a Coca Cola loyalist. Sorry, but I don’t keep any in the house. Only what you store upstairs in the fridge.”

She pulled out a can of juice, popped the tab and returned to the sewing room. The chill from the can relieved some of the body heat his question had initiated. But not all. She took too big a slug of juice and almost coughed it up. What was it about being with Ben that made her forget how to swallow?

“You okay?” He moved quickly to where she stood, and she thought he was about to start pounding on her back, but he didn’t.

“I’m fine.” She managed a hoarse whisper.

The sound of footsteps on the stairs drew Allie’s attention. Seconds later, Detective Thompson joined them.

“I thought I heard you,” he said to Ben. “You’re early. But you’ll never hear a complaint from me.”

“Yeah. Traffic was light today.”

“Nothing unusual there. The hours we’re keeping, traffic is always light. Let’s consider it a perk.” Thompson pressed his hands to his sides against his back and massaged the muscles. He rotated his shoulders and sighed as if his ministrations alleviated some of the cramp.

To Allie’s observation, the detective rarely left his post. Sometimes, during the night, he brewed coffee. He’d taken her up on her offer to use her coffee maker and had stashed a container of a popular brand in the refrigerator where Sutter parked his Coke. The aroma of the hazelnut blend he favored often lingered in the kitchen when she awoke. Stoking up on caffeine must be how the detectives stayed alert during their grueling twelve-hour shifts.

Allie sipped her juice while she waited out the changing of the guard. Once Thompson assured Ben nothing out of the ordinary had transpired, he left.

“So, have you ever been married?”

Electricity had charged the air the moment Ben arrived. It seemed to vanish at Thompson’s intrusion, and then it returned. Allie chugged the last of her drink. Allie held on to the empty can like a person shipwrecked at sea clutches a life preserver. She hadn’t a clue where his poking around in her personal life was headed. Maybe nowhere. Just as she’d been curious about certain aspects of his life, she supposed he was curious about hers. Or maybe it was just idle conversation, something to fill a few minutes before he headed upstairs. Trapped by the window in her bedroom, if things progressed as usual, he had nothing to look forward to except deadly monotony and a lack of stimulation.

Sometimes people she barely knew couldn’t contain their surprise upon discovering she was still single. Her sterling attributes and all that. As if they would lose a minute of sleep over her inability or unwillingness to get hitched. With Ben, she didn’t sense the gushing insincerity others presented, which sometimes put her on the defensive. Then again, over the years, she’d been known to be wrong on any number of occasions.

“No, I’ve never been married.” She waited for his reaction. Not even a raised eyebrow. Cool. She decided on a little tit for tat. After boldly poking his nose into her business, just let him refuse to answer her questions. “How about you?”

He shook his head. “Uh-uh.”

“Hmm…” No past or present encumbrances.

“Ever come close?” he asked.

She didn’t have to think long. “Not even by a yard.”

His turn to nod like he understood she must have had reasons and, no doubt, very good ones.

“You?” she asked.

His mouth tightened, indicating he’d probably come within inches of the altar. No surprise there. From head to toe, Detective Ben Sutter was the entire package. Personality, ability and the killer sex appeal she’d seen surface at the most improbable moments must have women wearing out his doorbell. Then there was that dimple.

Her eyes clamped onto his like magnet to metal, daring him to deflect her question. She tapped a finger against the empty juice can.

He used more than the one second she’d taken when she answered him. “Uh-huh. Once.”

From the rawness in his tone she suspected a fairly recent breakup.

“Hermes,” she said. Allie didn’t know the woman, but the accessory provided more than enough information. Ms. High End Taste versus Mr. Casual. Again, she wondered who’d initiated the breakup. Something deep inside told her Detective Sutter had wound up on the receiving end of the ax.

“What?”

“Last night. The Hermes tie. Am I right?”

“Good guess.”

Guess? Allie had served on a jury twice, so she knew something about evidence. “She bought you the tie.”

“You’d make a good detective.” The tight mouth softened, the quick change suggesting he’d made some progress moving beyond the pain of the breakup.

“Why’s that?”

“You figured out I had nothing to do with the purchase. What’s so special about the tie, anyway?”

“You mean besides the wonderful design, and the fact that a Hermes tie costs in the range of a hundred to a hundred-fifty dollars?”

His eyes widened under raised brows. “A hundred-fifty? Are you kidding me?”

Allie gave a soft laugh. “Would I lie to a policeman? Anyway, what does it matter who made the selection? The tie is beautiful and meant to be worn.”

His laugh was deep-throated and short. “I hope whoever has the damn thing around his neck now appreciates the beauty.”

She frowned. “What do you mean? What happened to it?”

He told her about his pit stop at the Goodwill box.

She tried not to smile, but could more easily have held back the rising tide. A noticeable change had taken hold of Ben lately.

And Allie liked it.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The anticipated and much-needed rain unleashed a torrent late Monday night and continued into Tuesday. A quick glance out the workroom window confirmed sooty clouds blackened the sky. Highly unseasonable for the time of year, the storm flung huge drops at the roof and windows with a vengeful onslaught. The rain proved a blessing for Allie since both detectives had limited her time in the backyard, time she needed to water her fledging carrot, radish, zucchini and artichoke plants.

An argument always ensued before one of the detectives granted her permission to leave the house. It usually took double the time to convince her “bodyguards”—as she’d come to label them—that the redwood fence was high enough to shield her from view. Also, the newly installed gate lock offered her extra protection. Once outside, to show cooperation, she always limited her time to a quick soaking. She hated to lose the few vegetables now in the ground.

During one of his afternoon shifts, she’d dragooned Ben into hauling out a full sack of mulch from under the back porch so she could nurture the plants and encourage growth. She’d promised to drop off a bag of veggies at the station once they ripened, but he said he rarely ate vegetables. Except for lettuce and tomatoes in the sandwiches he bought at the deli or other food outlets.

She wondered if he thought she’d made the offer as a ploy to see him again. Although Dave was still on the loose, once the competition ended, so would Ben’s bodyguard duties. Then she’d take off for a week in Cabo. If Dave continued to elude the authorities, she had to consider where she’d stay after she returned to the city. There was no question of returning to her house. Well aware of the disruption such a move would bring to her life, she’d put off making any decisions.

Whatever Ben thought about seeing her again, her homegrown offer to him forced her to confront what she’d kept buried deep inside. After this whole nightmare ended, she wanted to reconnect with him. Yes, the thought had been planted, but until now, she’d refused to allow it to bloom, which she considered smart. She suspected the odds of a relationship developing between them were slim to none. Except for the marriage question—a rare delving into her personal life—he always acted in a professional manner. Probably, it would be foolish to read anything familiar into their few less-personal conversations.

Satisfied the bridal gown met all her expectations, Allie turned her attention to the evening dress she’d present at Designorama. She had chosen a royal blue satin fabric. Strapless and nearly backless to the waist. A deep slit up the front would expose the wearer’s legs to just above the knee. At the junction of the inverted V, a jewel-encrusted clip made of faux rubies, sapphires and diamonds would provide the dress’ only decoration. Her mother had generously provided the clip and a few other expensive pieces of jewelry for the competition.

The office phone rang while Allie made a slight adjustment to the placement of the clip. So there would be no chance of missing a call, Sutter had turned up the ringer to the maximum volume. Now, the shrill jangle sliced through Allie like the sharp blade of a butcher knife.

She froze.

Sutter, yellow lined pad and black felt-tip pen in hand, thundered down the steps. When he reached her, he said in a calm tone, “Take a deep breath. You’ll do fine. I’ll stay close.”

He steered her in the direction of the office and indicated with his head for her to answer the phone. Allie snatched up the receiver on the fifth ring, beating the answering machine by mere seconds. Certain either Jimmy or Dave must be on the other end, she wanted the call to switch to voicemail, wanted to avoid even minimal contact with them. But in order to uphold her end of the bargain, she had to take the call. After all, she’d promised the detectives her full cooperation. Anything less would give them some justification to remove her from the house.

She moistened her lips, said, “Hello,” then quickly walked to where Ben waited. True to his promise he stood close enough to touch. His eyes offered her silent encouragement. She could see his chest rise and fall as he breathed softly to keep from being heard. His strong posture, and the way his gaze held hers, invited her to draw on his strength.

“Hi, Allie.” Jimmy’s high-pitched voice filled the room as she switched on the phone’s speaker. “Got my orders, so I gotta make this quick. How you doin’? I guess you’re workin’ like a beaver. When’s that contest goin’ off again?”

He sounded much more animated than he had during any of their earlier conversations.

“Everything is on schedule,” Allie kept her eyes on Ben’s as she replied. She avoided giving Jimmy any specifics, angry with herself for ever mentioning the competition and especially the date to him. Yes, she wanted him and Dave to show up and be caught, but
not
at Designorama. She managed to keep her tone even so she wouldn’t somehow alert the men to her trepidation and spook them. But talking to them about the competition was as loathsome as someone sticking a pin into a child’s birthday balloon. She prayed the pair would be caught before the competition date. Then her life could return to normal.

“I bet you could use some excitement. Huh?” Jimmy’s usually laconic tone rose on a wave of exhilaration.

Creepy. Allie wondered if he was using. She’s always suspected Jimmy hung out with druggies when he was more or less homeless. Clearly, his parents had gave him little guidance, and he seemed destined to make bad choices. She still thought of him as a wayward kid, but actually, he was a young man now, so nothing would surprise her.

“When you and me get together…”

She heard a muffled voice along with a clunk as if the phone had hit something, maybe a table or wall. It cut off whatever Jimmy had been about to say.

“Okay, here. Take it.” Jimmy’s voice sounded more distant with a deep edge of annoyance.

A moment passed then Dave’s smooth tones wafted over the line. “Hey, Allie Cat. I hope we’re not intruding on anything too important.”

Allie stomach clenched into a tight ball. She pushed past the feeling, sucked in a deep breath, held it a moment before letting it slowly escape. Afraid she couldn’t trust her voice, she cleared her throat.