Cavanaugh's Surrender (23 page)

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Authors: Marie Ferrarella

Tags: #Suspense

BOOK: Cavanaugh's Surrender
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Tina reached their table and set down their catfish in front of them. “Here you go, girls. Have you noticed every single woman in here is eyeing your Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome?”

“He’s not mine.” Picking up her fork, Emily stabbed a corn bread hush puppy with her fork, popping it into her mouth to discourage further questions. As she chewed, she studiously avoided looking in the direction of the lunch bar.

Jayne and Tina had no such compunction.

“Well, if you don’t want him, mind if I have a try?” Tina finally drawled, her east Texas twang as thick as syrup.

“Go right ahead,” Emily answered once she’d finished chewing. “Just be careful he doesn’t murder you in your sleep.”

“Emily!” both women chided.

“You’ve got to get over that paranoia.” Shaking her head, then her hips, Tina sashayed away. Emily picked at her food, her appetite gone.

“You really are upset about this, aren’t you?” Jayne asked, taking another bite of the crisp golden fish.

“I’ll be fine.” Her automatic answer, made even now to a woman she counted among her friends, meant she wasn’t. But her self-protective instincts, awakened after the craziness that had followed her husband’s death, refused to stay dormant for long. Experience had taught her nothing was ever as it seemed.

“Are you going to talk to him after we eat?”

Emily took a long drink of her iced tea. “I guess so. Hopefully, I can convince him to leave me alone.”

“Maybe he just wants to ask you out on a date.”

Emily’s forced laugh told her friend what she thought of that idea. “No. He doesn’t. Believe me.”

From her expression, Jayne clearly didn’t. “Do you want me to come with you when you talk to him?”

Surprised and grateful, Emily touched the back of Jayne’s hand. “No, but thank you for offering.”

The sympathy in Jayne’s eyes made Emily’s throat close up. Trying to regain her equilibrium, she stabbed a piece of fish and forced herself to chew it.

“Sometimes you remind me of Rocco,” Jayne said. “When we got him from the Boxer rescue, he was terrified of every move we made.”

At her friend’s analogy, Emily had to smile. “You’re comparing me to your dog?”

“Believe me when I say that’s the highest compliment I could pay you. It took Rocco six months to begin to trust me. I’ve known you four and a half years, and I still wonder if you’ll ever stop being shocked at the kindness of others,” Jayne mused. “I know you don’t like to talk about your past, but you seem to be wound a bit too tight. If you ever need someone to lend an ear...”

This line of conversation, while hardly new, had the potential to go on for hours. Over time, she’d told both her best friends about her past, at least the part before Carlos. Unlike Ryan, she hadn’t been fortunate enough to be adopted. Due to poor health and a variety of childhood diseases, she hadn’t even been shuttled from foster home to foster home. Instead, she’d spent her childhood in an orphanage, venturing out into the world alone as soon as she turned eighteen. She’d met Carlos shortly after that, and the whirlwind courtship and marriage had seemed exactly what she’d needed.

Ah, the naivete of youth. Emily checked her watch. She had ten minutes left before she had to return to work.

Tapping her watch face and shaking her head at her friend, she ate a couple more bites of her fish before blotting her mouth with her napkin.

“I’ve got to go, or I’ll be late,” she said, tossing her payment on the table.

“What about him?” Still eating, Jayne jerked her head in Mac Riordan’s direction. “You told him you’d talk to him. And since you can’t get out the door without going past him...”

Though she already knew the time, Emily made a big show of checking her watch once more. “I hope he can make this quick and painless.”

Still, despite her misgivings, her mouth went dry the closer she got to him. Mac stood as she approached, placing his money on the counter and falling into step with her as they headed out the door. Though her heartbeat immediately started racing, she kept her face expressionless and waited until they’d emerged into the bright spring sunshine before speaking.

“All right,” she told him. “I work down the street, and I have five minutes left on my lunch break. What do you want?”

Instead of answering, he took her arm. Immediately, she tensed, causing him to drop his hand. He shot her a look but didn’t comment on her defensive body language.

“Let’s walk and talk,” he said.

Without responding, she set off at a brisk pace for the vet clinic. She hated the way she felt hyperaware of him, hated the way a single glance at him made her insides go all weak and warm.

When they’d covered half the distance without him telling her what he wanted, she finally stopped and turned to face him. “Why do you need to talk to me?” Though she spoke in a soft voice, she made sure a thread of steel ran through it. “I don’t know you, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“You mentioned a threatening letter,” he began.

“I never said it was
threatening.
” Despite the alarm bells clanging inside her head, she still felt an insistent tug of attraction.

“Cut out letters? Come on. Why else would you ask if I mailed it to you?” he said in a reasonable tone. “I’m new in town, and we’ve never met before today, so that’s the only way your question makes sense.”

Put that way, he sort of had a point. But his supposed concern didn’t excuse his odd behavior. At one time, she would have allowed herself to feel flattered. Now she could only feel threatened. “Look, you’ve been following me. First on the walking path, then you came into the restaurant and made a public scene.”

Now he tilted his head. “That was not a scene. I have nothing to hide. Do you?”

She shuddered, unable to conceal her reaction. “If that’s not creepy, stalkerish behavior, I don’t know what it is. So I’ll ask you one more time, what do you want?”

“To help you.”

“Of course you do.” Unable to rein in her sarcastic response, she crossed her arms. “Out of the goodness of your heart, right? You don’t even know me. And I sure as hell don’t know you.”

“Cop instincts, I guess. I used to be a detective in the Albany Police Department. Your sheriff’s department can vouch for me.”

Wearily, she nodded. Jayne had said something of the sort. “You still haven’t told me what you want.”

“I’d like to offer my services,” he said, his gaze steady.

“No, thanks.” She shook her head.

“For a fee, if that will make you feel better. If you need protection, I can help.”

Dumbfounded despite herself, Emily looked away. Whatever she’d expected him to say, it hadn’t been this. The idea of having help of some kind—any kind—felt so seductive that she nearly swayed with relief.

But she didn’t...because she knew better. Despite his movie-star good looks and the tug of sexual attraction she felt when she looked at him, she couldn’t afford to trust him. She couldn’t allow herself the luxury of letting her guard down. The sins of her husband’s past were too numerous.

“Look, I appreciate your offer.” Softening her voice, she tried to appear as if she meant it. “In reality, I had a couple of blind dates with a guy who liked me way more than I liked him. I’m pretty sure that’s all this is.”

Devilishly handsome, he studied her. With his hawk-like features and his too-sharp blue eyes, everything about him spoke of inherent strength. Ah, but she knew better than most how appearances could be deceiving.

“Give me his name, and I’ll talk to him,” he said. “If it is him, I’ll make sure he doesn’t bother you again.”

She recoiled, unable to help herself. Her late husband had been such a man, promising to take care of her, keeping her shielded from the rest of the world. At first, she’d found this charming. It wasn’t until later that she’d realized she’d been slowly suffocating.

And when she’d found out her entire marriage, her entire life had all been nothing but a pack of lies, she’d known she shouldn’t have been surprised. But she was. And hurt and betrayed. She’d vowed she’d never be so blind again.

This was why, even though this man’s rugged profile made her want to melt inside, she wanted to play it safe and send him away—with a smile, if possible.

Because the last thing she needed was to make another enemy. God knows she had made enough of those already, thanks to Carlos.

ISBN: 9781459241848

Copyright © 2012 by Marie Rydzynski-Ferrarella

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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