Against the Storm1 (23 page)

Ziggy turned. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m a friend. And I’m asking you to leave. If you don’t go on your own, I’ll make sure you do.”

Ashley couldn’t believe her eyes. Jason was defending her. And from the look on his face and the way he was standing with his legs splayed and his weight on the balls of his feet, he was capable of doing exactly what he’d threatened.

Ziggy must have realized it wasn’t a bluff. He took a step backward, putting some distance between them. “Fine. You want her, you can have her. Her and that squalling brat she’s got.”

Jason’s jaw hardened. The restaurant fell silent. He took a menacing step toward Ziggy, who turned and started rapidly walking toward the door. He gripped the handle and pulled it open, ringing the bell, then flashed a last look Ashley’s way and stalked out into the night. The door closed with a whoosh behind him.

Ashley’s eyes burned. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from Jason.

People returned to their meals and conversations, laughing as if nothing had happened. In the Texas Café, maybe nothing had.

Betty appeared beside her. “You okay?”

Ashley swallowed. “I’m okay.”

“It’s gettin’ near closing time. Why don’t you and your fella go ahead and go on home?”

“But you said you wanted to show me how to close up tonight.”

“You’ll be workin’ tomorrow. I’ll show you then.”

Ashley’s chest tightened. She was making friends here, people she could trust. People willing to help her.

Betty smiled and sauntered away, and Ashley turned back to Jason. “Thank you. No one’s ever been willing to fight for me before.”

He reached out and touched her cheek. “I’ll fight for you, Ashley. Anytime you need.”

Her eyes filled. Jason had a way of cutting through her defenses. “Take me home, will you please?”

He just nodded. He waited for her to collect her purse, then led her outside. When they reached his vehicle, he paused beside the powerful sports car.

“You don’t have to be afraid, Ashley. I won’t let him hurt you.”

Color washed into her cheeks. “I wish you hadn’t seen him. Now you know how stupid I was to get mixed up with a jerk like that.” She shook her head. “I feel so different now. I feel a thousand years older.”

“You aren’t the same person anymore. You’re a mother now and that changes everything.”

She looked into his handsome face. “Yes, it does.”

Jason bent his head and very gently kissed her. It was the softest, sweetest kiss she had ever known.

“Let’s go get Robbie.”

Ashley nodded. Her throat felt tight.

Jason opened the passenger door, his gaze sweeping over the cramped interior of the Porsche.

“Looks like I’m going to need a bigger car,” he muttered as he waited for her to slide into the seat.

Ashley couldn’t tell if he was talking to her or himself.

Either way, it made her smile.

W
ishing he could spend Saturday morning in bed with Maggie, Trace showered and dressed to go to work. When he walked into the living room, he spotted her pacing the floor and grumbling, glossy red curls flying at every turn.

She whirled to face him. “So…you’re going off to work, but I’m just supposed to stay here.”

“I’ve got some things I need to do,” he said simply. He had a business to run, people who depended on him, and he wasn’t going to find Maggie’s stalker by staying in bed—an idea he infinitely preferred.

“I can’t stay locked up this way much longer, Trace.” Dressed in jeans that cupped her pretty little behind and a T-shirt that fit nicely over her luscious breasts, she looked good enough to eat. His mind raced back to the bedroom. With Herculean effort, he reined himself in.

Maggie stopped pacing and stood in front of him. “I have a job, just like you and everyone else. Besides, I’m used to being outdoors shooting. I’ve got to get out of the house, Trace.”

He shook his head. “Not by yourself. It isn’t safe and you know it.”

Maggie blew out a breath. “We need to catch this guy. What about the trap we’d planned to set? Can’t we go ahead and do it?”

He sighed. “We need to do something, that’s for damned sure.” He had told her about his meeting with Tony Ramirez, told her the guy who had lit up her condo was likely a professional torch. He hadn’t mentioned his theory that there was a good chance more was going on than just some loony who was obsessed with her.

He still wasn’t ready to break that little bit of bad news.

“It’ll take me a while to get the word out,” Maggie was saying. “But the fire might work in our favor. The story was all over the local TV news. I know Sally Grimshaw over at KGEO. I’m a local girl and fairly well known. I think I could get her to interview me about the destruction of my studio and what my plans are for the future.”

It wasn’t a bad idea. As long as Maggie didn’t give out any personal details, just kept to the information they wanted the stalker to know. If they could catch him, at least one of Maggie’s problems would be solved.

And the truth was, Trace might be wrong, and her stalker actually could be the one responsible. Hell, maybe the nutcase
had
hired a torch to burn up Maggie’s studio. Crazy people were just that—crazy. There was no way to predict exactly what one of them might do.

“So what do you think?” she asked, pulling his thoughts back to the moment. “During the interview, I could mention how eager I am to get back to work. I could say I’m planning a trip down to Kemah to do
some shooting this weekend. We could set it up the same as we planned before.”

“It might work,” he finally said. “Long as we have time to get ready. I need to talk to Ben and Alex. I want them there if the guy shows up.” So far Trace had managed to keep his two friends away from Maggie. He’d been oddly reluctant to introduce her to a couple guys who looked as good as they did, and had half the women in Houston falling at their feet.

But he’d talked about their competence, told her how lucky he was to have them working for Atlas, even in a freelance capacity as they did.

Maggie looked up at him and smiled. “Okay, then. While you’re at the office, I’ll make a list, see what I can do from my end to start things rolling.”

“All right, but let’s work out the details before you make any calls.”

“Okay.” He could read her excitement. Her face was glowing, her green eyes bright. After her arrival at his house, she had commandeered his laptop, and for the past few days had been keeping herself busy by working on her client list, sorting names and looking for anyone with what seemed an inordinate interest in her pictures. So far, she hadn’t found anyone.

Aside from that, she’d been answering sympathetic emails from friends and clients who had seen the story about the fire, talking to the insurance company about payment for the damage and trying to find a contractor to get started on the major job of rebuilding the town house.

But Maggie wasn’t used to sitting home, and her frustration was evident.

“I’ve got quite a bit to do,” he said. “I won’t be home
before supper. We can go out or I can pick something up and bring it back.”

Maggie walked toward him, draped her arms around his neck. “Why don’t I cook us something? I looked in the freezer. You’ve got a package of pork chops. I usually marinate them in a little teriyaki.”

His mouth watered. “I thought you couldn’t cook.”

“Unlike my sister, my skills are fairly limited. But I can manage teriyaki pork chops and salad.”

“Sounds great.” And staying home with Maggie sounded a helluva lot better than going out to some restaurant and wishing he was home making love to her. “Try not to get cabin fever, and I’ll see you tonight.”

She gave him a soft, openmouthed kiss that made it hard for him to turn and walk away.

Hell, it just made him hard.

He chuckled to himself. His sex life had never been better. By now he should be ready for a change, but he was far from bored with the perky little redhead. In truth, he couldn’t get enough of her. Sooner or later that would end, he was sure. As long as he didn’t let his emotions get too deeply involved, he’d be okay.

Trace vowed not to let that happen.

Trace thought of Maggie all afternoon as he worked behind his desk. It was difficult to concentrate on the invoices Annie had asked him to review, to sign payroll checks or take care of the myriad other little details he had put off doing all week.

And another problem had arisen.

According to Detective Sayers, there was a chance Parker Barrington could get out of jail.

Emily Barrington had recanted her story, telling the police that she had been angry at her husband and co
erced into saying he had come home late the night of the murder. According to her, the coercer, unfortunately, was Trace.

Parker’s fancy lawyers were making hay with the tale of the repentant wife who had said those things only because her husband had been ignoring her. The attorneys also insisted that someone had tampered with Parker’s computer, using it to go online to look up information on tranquilizing drugs, inferring it was Jason, who would have had access to the machine.

Jason was going to go off the deep end when he found out.

Fortunately, there was still the not-so-small matter of the money Parker had stolen. The prosecutor was still convinced he was a flight risk, and so far the judge agreed. Trace just hoped Parker’s expensive attorneys didn’t come up with some new tap dance that would buy him a get-out-of-jail-free card.

Trace was convinced if the man did get out, he would be gone. And he wouldn’t be taking his adoring little wife, Emily, with him.

A light knock sounded at his office door and Trace looked up from his computer screen. Through the glass, he saw Sol Greenway’s lanky figure and waved him into the room.

“I saw you come in a little earlier,” Trace said, having noticed his youngest employee sauntering into the office next to his a little over an hour ago. “What’s up?”

“I came in to dig up some info for Alex, but one of the names on your list kept nagging me.” Sol sprawled in the chair beside the desk and shoved his horn-rimmed glasses up on his nose. “I hate to admit I missed this before—not once but twice. I don’t know why I went back to look at the guy again…something
about the timing, I guess. Until today, I didn’t make the connection.”

Trace leaned over to take the paper Sol held. “What’s this?”

“David Lyons was hospitalized a week after Maggie O’Connell moved out of his house. It was supposed to be some kind of kitchen accident. He cut himself while he was cooking. Stuff like that happens all the time, but it just kept bugging me. I think it was the date, you know, being so close to her leaving. Anyway, I went back into his hospital files—” Sol broke off as if he had already said too much about his hacking technique, and shook his head. “You don’t want to know.”

“No, I don’t. Just tell me what you found.”

“Lyons tried to commit suicide. He was distraught over losing his girlfriend. Slit his wrists. Came real close to dying.”

Trace let the news sink in. David Lyons had been so crazy-in-love with Maggie that when she left him, he had tried to kill himself.

Which meant maybe he was just plain crazy.

“It was buried real deep. Lyons went to a lot of trouble to keep it secret. Three days after it happened, I found a big anonymous contribution to the hospital wing they were building at the time. I can probably go in and find out who it came from, but…”

“But your guess is it came from Lyons.”

“Him or his parents. His family’s loaded. An emotional problem like that could have affected his career.”

But Maggie must have known. She had cared about the guy. Obviously in some way still did. She would have gone to see him the minute she’d heard he was in the hospital. Maggie had known and yet she hadn’t
told him. In fact, she’d gone out of her way to keep him from finding out.

Anger began to simmer inside him. He wanted to trust her. He’d been letting down his guard more and more. Maggie’s silence felt like a betrayal of the very worst sort.

His jaw ached from clenching it so hard. “Anything else?”

“I’ll keep digging if you want.”

“Oh, yeah. That’s exactly what I want. Maybe Lyons still has the hots for her. Maybe his obsession is mixed with some kind of weird need for revenge.”

Sol nodded, stood up from his chair. “I’ll see what I can find.”

“Call my cell if you come up with anything.”

Sol left Trace’s office, went into his own and sat down behind his computer screens. Trace grabbed his hat and tugged it over his forehead, picked up his briefcase and left the office. Outside, the Saturday evening traffic was beginning to build. He’d been looking forward to going home.

The muscles in his neck tightened. In hiding the truth about Lyons, Maggie had lied to him again. Trace had known better than to trust her. He wanted her out of his house, out of his life. But there was no place safe for her to go.

Worse than that, part of him wanted her to stay.

By the time he turned into the alley behind his house, he had worked himself into a simmering rage. He tried for his usual calm, but couldn’t seem to find it. He couldn’t wait to confront her. She would just give him more bullshit, he knew. And yet, deep down, he wanted her to convince him she hadn’t meant to deceive him.

He parked the Jeep in the garage on the alley and
strode up the walkway to the back porch. Maggie turned off the alarm, opened the door and smiled as he walked into the kitchen.

“Hey, cowboy.” She caught the brim of his hat, lifted it off and hung it on the rack beside the door. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten our date.” She was wearing a sexy little black dress that barely covered her ass, dangling silver earrings and silver bracelets that jangled whenever she moved.

The sound made his groin tighten. “I didn’t know it was a date,” he said darkly.

“It’s always a date on the rare occasion I’m cooking.”

He followed her into the dining room, saw that she had set the table with his grandmother’s china and silver. The candles were lit and there was an arrangement of pink carnations and pretty white daisies in the center of the table.

It made him yearn for the things he’d once wanted, a home, a wife who loved him, kids one day.

It made the anger he was feeling bubble up inside him, twisting his stomach into a knot. He tried to clamp down on his emotions, but when she turned and slid her arms around his neck, when she rose up on her toes and kissed him, something inside him snapped.

He could feel every soft curve, the fullness of her breasts and the hardening of her nipples. “I guess we did have a date,” he growled, and kissed her with an angry fire he could barely contain. His heart was pounding, his blood surging hot and fast.

Maggie deepened the kiss, sliding her tongue over his, sucking his lower lip into her mouth. Her fingers moved over the front of his shirt. She popped the snaps and ran her palms over the muscles across his chest.
He was close to losing control, worried he might, but Maggie didn’t seem to care.

“I guess you missed me,” she whispered into his mouth, pressing herself against his rock-hard erection. He was throbbing with every heartbeat, infused with a furious heat that ached to be released.

“Oh, I missed you,” he drawled, kissing her deeply as he peeled the narrow black straps of her dress off her shoulders, tugged the bodice down and filled his hands with her luscious breasts. They were plump and enticing, and he lowered his head and tasted them, circled her nipples with his tongue.

Maggie moaned. He could feel her trembling, could sense her arousal. She wanted him and, damn, he wanted her.

He drove his hands into her silky red hair, holding her immobile as he plundered her lips. Maggie had closed all the drapes in the living room, and a pair of candles burned on the coffee table in front of the sofa.

He thought of her deception, thought of David Lyons and how far she had gone to protect him, and his anger swelled. He shoved her short black dress up over her hips, kissed her deeply, felt the tiny triangle of satin that covered her sex, slid it aside and stroked her.

She was wet and ready, breathing hard, pressing herself against his hand, urging his fingers deeper.

Trace obliged, stroking her nearly to climax, then turning her toward the sofa, bending her over the padded arm. She parted her legs, giving him access as he opened his fly, found her softness and positioned himself.

He took her in a single deep thrust, paused for a moment to regain control. Then he was moving, plunging deeply, taking what he wanted, telling himself he
was punishing her for deceiving him. But he was only punishing himself.

With every thrust, his desire for her strengthened. With each of her soft little cries, his need for her swelled. He gripped her hips, drove himself deeper, faster, harder.

He wanted Maggie O’Connell.

But as they reached the peak together and she cried out his name, he realized he wanted more from her than just her beautiful body.