Millionaire's Last Stand (15 page)

He glanced down at the erection straining against his jeans. Oh yeah, definitely desire.

With another heavy breath he rerouted his troubling thoughts, deciding to distract himself with dinner. An hour and a half later, as he removed a hot pan from the stove and set it on the cooling rack on the counter, he realized Jamie still hadn’t come downstairs.

He wiped his hands on a dishrag, then trudged up the stairs and knocked on Jamie’s door. When she didn’t answer he went ahead and opened it, hoping he didn’t catch her in a state of undress. Or maybe praying he
would
. But when he walked in he was surprised to find her sprawled on the burgundy bedspread, sound asleep.

His heart squeezed in his chest. She looked young and sweet while she slept, and not so obstinately professional. For all her easygoing smiles and casual tilts of the head, he’d noticed she was always alert, always observing and analyzing.

Trying not to wake her, he edged backward, only to jump when Jamie shot up in a blur, those shrewd lavender eyes fixed on him. “What’s up?” she asked immediately.

He was impressed. “You’re a light sleeper.”

“Part of the job—always be prepared for anything.” She rubbed her eyes. “Is everything okay?”

“I was just coming up to tell you dinner was ready, but if you want to keep napping, then—”

She was already off the bed and on her feet. “No, I’ll come down. Just give me a minute to freshen up.”

When she entered the kitchen ten minutes later, she was wearing black leggings, a red, hooded sweatshirt and her auburn hair was tied up in a high ponytail. He fought a smile. In that getup, she looked more like a college coed than an FBI agent.

Her eyes widened when she spotted the food on the table. “Should I be insulted that you think my appetite warrants all this?”

“I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I made a bunch of stuff.”

He felt uncomfortable as she studied the feast he’d prepared. He’d planned on broiling a couple of steaks and serving them with baked potatoes, but at the last moment he’d realized he didn’t know if she liked red meat, so he’d promptly boiled up some fettuccine, whipped up a rosé sauce and shoved some garlic bread in the oven. Then he’d questioned
that
choice and tossed a salad, grilling up some chicken to make it a hearty Caesar.

And now he felt like a total idiot.

“I guess I got carried away,” he mumbled.

“Maybe just a little.”

Her barely restrained laughter eased his nerves. He liked seeing her smile. There was something quite genuine about the way her mouth curved upward, the way her eyes twinkled with amusement.

They sat at the table and devoured the meal in silence. It wasn’t until after he cleared the table and shoved several uneaten dishes into the fridge that Jamie spoke to him. As usual, she caught him by surprise.

“Do you have a lot of friends?”

He turned to face her, wrinkling his brow. “Why do you ask?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I was just thinking about how angry Finn was with me, and it made me realize that if I didn’t have Finn as a friend, I’d be all alone. I mean, I have my mom, of course, but the two of us are just so different it’s kind of hard to consider her a friend.”

Something shifted in his chest. “As much as that man rubs me the wrong way, it’s obvious Finn cares about you,” Cole said grudgingly. “He’s just worried. That’s why he’s angry.”

“I know.” She sighed. “I just wish he had more faith in me. I’m a trained federal agent. I can take care of myself.”

Cole returned the sigh. “It’s me he doesn’t have faith in. He doesn’t trust
me,
Jamie.”

“I know, but it still irks.”

As she sipped the red wine he’d poured for her, Cole thought about the question she’d posed at him, and discomfort crept up his spine. “No one,” he found himself blurting.

She set down her glass and arched one delicate eyebrow. “What?”

“I don’t have any friends,” he clarified, his chest tight from the admission. “Sure, there are the people who want to be my friend, but not because they truly like me or want to get to know me. They’re more interested in my wealth, or saying that they’re close with
the
Cole Donovan.”

“That must be tough, never knowing what someone’s true motives are each time they say hello.”

Still uncomfortable, he returned to the table and sat down, searching her face. “What about you? Why aren’t you surrounded with friends?”

“My job,” she confessed, circling her fingers around the stem of her wine glass. “I spent so much time building my career that I forgot there’s more to life than work. And now I’m thirty-two, single, alone, and sometimes I feel like it’s too late.”

Her candid words fascinated him. “For what?”

“Children,” she burst out. A twinge of embarrassment entered her voice. “A husband, kids, not an empty apartment and nothing to be proud of other than my badge.”

“I know what you mean,” he said quietly. “I want those things too.”

Her skeptical laughter made his skin bristle. “I can’t imagine you as a dad,” she confessed.

Cole’s irritation rose. “Why is that?”

“Because…well, because you’re a multimillionaire. You travel the country and close nine-figure deals.”

“So?”

“So…well…” She fidgeted. “I don’t know…I just can’t picture you as a family man.”

Her words rattled him. Teresa had pretty much said the same thing to him when he’d raised the subject of having kids. Then again, Teresa hadn’t
wanted
children. She’d much preferred spending all of his money and telling everyone she was married to Cole Donovan.

“Maybe I want to be a family man,” he said, his tone harsher than he intended. “Maybe I want to be a husband and a father and stay in one place.”

She had the decency to look shamefaced. “I’m sorry. I…I just assumed…”

“That I’m a coldhearted businessman who’s only looking to close that next big deal?”

Her cheeks turned pink. “I…”

“I’ve had an offer to sell Donovan Enterprises.”

His abrupt revelation made her eyes widen. “You did?”

“Ian told me about the offer when he dropped off the contracts the other day. At first I thought it was ridiculous, but now…” He shrugged. “Now I’m considering it.”

Confusion etched into her features. “You’re willing to throw away everything you’ve worked so hard for?”

“I threw it away before, when I gave away my father’s legacy.”

“But this is
your
legacy, Cole.
You
built this company.”

“And Teresa’s murder is destroying it.” His throat clogged. “I don’t know what I’ll do. Selling is just something I’m thinking about.”

“You can’t let this investigation destroy everything you built,” Jamie said in a gentle tone. “Gideon told the truth, and I’m sure when Finn takes the evidence to the district attorney, the D.A. will decide not to bring the case to the grand jury. It’s too circumstantial.”

“I’ve already been indicted in the press,” he said darkly. “I didn’t kill Teresa, but everyone will always wonder if maybe I did, if somehow I used all the money at my disposal to buy my freedom.” A curse slipped from his lips. “And now the investigation is destroying
you,
Jamie. Someone tried to kill you, most likely the person who killed Teresa.”

“Maybe.”

Cole frowned at her. “What do you mean, maybe? Who else would want to hurt you?”

“I’ve put a lot of bad people away,” she replied with a small shrug. “I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that one of them has held a grudge.”

“And one of these grudge-holders orchestrated your accident from behind bars?” Cole wasn’t convinced. “That seems far-fetched.”

“Just as far-fetched as your ex-wife’s killer coming after me,” she pointed out. “There hasn’t been a single new lead since I came here. We’re in no way closer to finding out who killed Teresa, and the killer has to know that. Why risk getting caught by tampering with my car? If I were the killer, I’d stay out of sight, keep my head down and out of trouble, and hope the investigation blows over.”

“But you’re not the killer, and you don’t know what makes this guy tick or how he thinks.”

She offered a tired smile. “Actually, I kind of do. I’m a profiler.”

Cole blinked in surprise. This was the first he’d heard of it. “You’re a profiler?” he echoed. “You don’t go out in the field and investigate?”

“Not so much anymore. I started out as an investigator for the violent crimes unit, but now I work in the field office and go over crime reports to come up with usable profiles.”

His wariness heightened. “So you try to get into the heads of killers?”

“Pretty much. I have master’s degrees in Behavioral Sciences and Abnormal Psychology. I spend most of my time trying to figure out the personalities of violent offenders.”

Cole wished she didn’t sound so proud of the work she described. To him it sounded horrific, thinking like a killer, trying to understand what made violent people the way they were. For some reason, that bothered him far more than the thought of Jamie out in the field chasing after suspects.

“That’s why I’m not certain the killer is responsible for my brakes failing,” she added. “This man is too controlled, too precise. If he wanted me out of the way, he would have done it in a fashion that guaranteed it, not left it up to chance.”

“Chance? Your car crashed into a tree,” he grumbled.

“But I survived. When you kill by remote control, you can’t guarantee your intended target will actually die. He would have been more active if he wanted me dead. A shot to the head, probably.”

The grisly image she painted made his throat go tight. The more he got to know Jamie Crawford, the more he liked her, and the thought of her getting hurt—or killed—turned his veins to ice. She was here because of him. Because the woman he’d foolishly married had been murdered. And she was in this house because he’d promised to protect her.

Panic ignited his gut. What if he couldn’t keep her safe?

“Uh…I’m going to go upstairs and take a shower,” he said, his change of topic so abrupt it startled even him.

“Oh.” Jamie blinked. “Okay. I should probably do that too. I fell asleep before I could wash all the dirt off me.”

Their chairs scraped against the floor as they each got to their feet. For one crazy moment Cole was going to suggest they shower together, but he bit his lip hard to keep the suggestion at bay. No. He couldn’t sleep with her, damn it. He was in no shape for a relationship, and as he and Jamie walked upstairs in silence and headed for their respective bedrooms, Cole forced himself to remember that.

When Jamie stepped out of the shower a half an hour later and walked into the guest room, she heard the sounds of Cole moving around in the bedroom next door.

Maybe I want to be a family man.

As his words floated into her head, she sat on the edge of the bed, her towel riding up her thighs. A tiny burst of guilt filled her body. She knew she’d hurt him when she’d so carelessly assumed that their goals weren’t aligned, but had she really been wrong to make the assumption? Men like Cole didn’t settle down. They ran multimillion-dollar empires and worried about making money, not babies.

But, she did have to admit, Cole didn’t seem at all concerned with money. And she couldn’t believe he was actually considering selling his company. He wasn’t at all what she’d thought he would be. He was definitely a shrewd businessman, judging by his success, and he emanated a deep sense of power, a self-assuredness that kind of turned her on. But he was more than that. Quiet in an intense sort of way, intelligent, funny when he let down his guard. And he could cook better than the chef at her favorite restaurant in Charlotte.

Why would a woman ever throw away a man like that?

Teresa had done it, and now Jamie was doing the same thing, fighting her growing feelings for the man because…because of what, really?

Murder investigation.

A sigh flew out of her mouth. It always came back to this damn case. But why should it? She’d been with the Bureau for ten years, and not once had she gotten involved with someone connected to a case. Or someone who
wasn’t
connected. Truth was, she’d only had one serious relationship, if you could count six months as
serious
.

Why couldn’t she put aside her professional obligations just this once, and be with Cole? It didn’t even have to lead to a relationship. She liked him, he turned her on and she truly believed he wasn’t a criminal. Would it be so wrong, having a brief, albeit passionate, fling with the man?

Quit overanalyzing everything to death and go next door already.

A hysterical laugh tickled her throat. Yep, story of her life, wasn’t it? Overanalyzing. She did it every day at the office, and the annoying trait that worked wonders when it came to picking apart a crime was most certainly a hindrance to her personal life.

Tired of acting like a Negative Nancy, Jamie lifted her chin in resolve and strode out of the room. She experienced a pang of apprehension as she stood outside Cole’s door, but she shoved away the doubt and gave a soft knock.

He opened the door bare-chested, momentarily turning her brain into a pile of mush. She stared at the sculpted muscles of his chest, the defined pecs and washboard stomach, then shook herself back to reality and met his dark eyes. “Can I come in?”

His heated gaze took in the white terry cloth wrapped around her body. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said in a raspy voice.

“Maybe not, but I’d still like to come in.”

After a moment of discernible hesitation, Cole moved aside so she could enter, but she noticed he kept several feet of distance between them. “What’s going on?” he asked.

Her hand toyed with the top of her towel, where she’d tucked it so it would stay up. Cole’s eyes instantly began to smolder as he followed the movements of her hand.

“I know we shouldn’t do this,” she murmured. “I don’t have sex with men I’ve only known for a few days. Actually, I hardly ever have sex.” Her cheeks scorched. “I can’t even remember the last time I did.”