Читать книгу Her Secret Alibi - Debra Webb - Страница 11

Jolie strolled the two blocks to Lebron’s Restaurant. Neon lights flickered and flashed, competing with the streetlamps and passing car lights. She felt better already just being away from her office. Later, when she got home, she would call her dad, just to hear his voice. Everything was going to be okay.

She was okay.

There had to be an explanation for all that had happened.

Lebron’s night manager showed Jolie to a table in the back, where it was quiet. She thanked him and ordered a glass of white wine from the waiter standing by. In an effort to quell the compulsion to fidget, she folded her hands in her lap and waited patiently for her drink.

She was fine, she assured that little voice that lingered in the back of her mind. The whole thing could be straightened out. Mistakes happened. This had to be a mistake. There simply was no other explanation.

Jolie shifted to a more comfortable position, then stretched her neck from side to side. Despite her efforts to relax a prickly sensation rushed over her skin. She knew the signs. Panic was bearing down on her. She inhaled a long, deep breath and then exhaled slowly. She was okay, she told herself again. She’d had panic attacks before…occasionally. All she had to do was focus on relaxing and she could stop it before it went any further.

In the beginning, her mother had taken medication for anxiety and panic attacks. Eventually even that hadn’t helped. Jolie shook her head. This wasn’t the same. She didn’t need medication. She wasn’t like her mother.

The memory of waking up in a strange man’s bed broadsided her, and she jerked helplessly. The strange call at the office Renae had mentioned, the numerous accounts with discrepancies… The trip she didn’t remember taking—hadn’t taken! The personal account at a Cayman Bank she couldn’t possibly have opened—all of it whirled inside her head. Jolie closed her eyes and resisted the urge to scream or cry or both. How could this be happening? She had worked so hard. She was just beginning to see the fruits of her labor. The promotion, the professional recognition—she was on her way. She was the youngest VP ever. All of which she had accomplished on her own, after her father had retired. Why did this have to happen now? Tears stung behind her closed lids.

The waiter arrived. Jolie snapped her eyes open and managed a strained thank-you as he set her wine before her. She reached for the delicate stemmed glass, but her hand shook so badly that she dropped it back onto her lap beneath the table. She blinked back the tears. She would not cry. She would not fall apart. She was stronger than that…stronger than her mother. She would fix this somehow.

“A beautiful lady should never dine alone.”

Jolie’s head shot up. Her gaze connected instantly with the dark, mesmerizing eyes of the man she had seen in the bank’s lobby earlier that day. For one second she wondered if her mind had somehow conjured him up. No…he was real and somehow familiar. Heat flowed through her, vanquishing the ice-cold dread and panic threatening to choke her.

“May I join you?” he asked in a deep, velvety voice that touched some chord deep inside her.

Who was this man? she wondered briefly, before she found her voice to answer. Why had he been in the bank today? What had he and Mr. Knox been discussing? And why was he here now? The other tangle of troubles flitted through her mind all over again, as well. Missing money…missing hours. Had last night’s disaster started with her talking to some stranger?

Probably.

Jolie firmed her resolve and stared defiantly at the sinfully handsome man. “I hate to injure your pride, sir, but if we’ve met before it proved unmemorable.” Damn it, she fumed. Did she look that easy? She never had before.

A slow smile slid across those firm, full lips, making the man even more handsome, if that was possible, but only adding to her growing frustration. If she had ever seen that smile before she would indeed remember it.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “My name is Simon.” He held out his hand. “And you are?”

Jolie looked from those mesmerizing eyes to his hand and back. His charm proved far too potent to resist. She placed her hand, however hesitantly, in his. Long, tapered fingers closed around hers, and just like earlier today, something passed between them. Heat and something more. Something she couldn’t quite define.

“Jolie Randolph,” she heard herself say.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Jolie Randolph.” Before she knew what he intended, he bent slightly and lifted her fingers to his lips. The kiss was nothing more than the faintest brush of his mouth, but the effect was devastating.

He smiled again, this time at her startled expression. It was as if he fully realized the effect he had on her. “As I said, you’re much too beautiful to be sitting here all alone.”

Jolie tugged her fingers free of his. Her skin was on fire where his lips had touched her. This was ridiculous. He was a stranger. The image of the man in the shower this morning flitted through her mind’s eye. The last thing she needed was another stranger in her life! “You should choose another pickup line, Mr….”

“Ruhl,” he told her, his gaze never leaving hers. “Simon Ruhl. And you haven’t answered my question, Miss Randolph.”

Jolie sipped her wine, taking a much-needed break from his intense gaze and pretending to consider his offer. Why was she encouraging him? Flirting, that’s what she was doing. She should simply ignore him so he would leave. “Actually, Mr. Ruhl, I only want a quiet dinner alone.” She allowed her gaze to meet his once more. Lord knew she already had enough trouble. And this man had trouble written all over his amazing face.

His eyes were too knowing and offered a most tempting escape. “You look like a lady who could use someone to talk to, Jolie.”

The way he said her name, the way the French intended, made her tremble. What was it about this man? “Mr. Ruhl—”

“Simon,” he insisted.

She focused on the pale amber liquid in her glass for a time. “I’m afraid I wouldn’t be very good company.”

Simon sat down across from her. “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that,” he said quietly, soothingly.

She should have been incensed that he took such liberty, but instead she looked into those dark eyes and for one moment wanted to believe that this man, this stranger, cared. What the hell? she decided. She had nothing better to do. The thought of going to prison for embezzlement, or worse, skittered through her mind. But not tonight, she decided suddenly. Definitely not tonight. She’d had enough stress for one day. Time to relax and just be. She needed to forget for a little while. Just for tonight.

Tonight she intended to put her troubles out of her head. She was going to chat with Simon. She had every intention of finding out who he was and what business he’d had in her bank today. She smiled at her companion. Why not? It certainly sounded better than sitting here beating herself up for what she couldn’t explain. His answering smile sent her heart into overdrive, immediately short-circuiting whatever her next thought should have been.

Simon gestured to the waiter and ordered a glass of wine for himself, and another for her. “So.” He turned that intense focus fully on her then. “What would make such a pretty lady look so sad?”

Boy, he didn’t beat around the bush. Sad, huh? Jolie supposed it would be impossible to conceal the life-altering events of her day. But she wasn’t about to tell him her personal business. Besides, she was supposed to be getting her mind off that subject.

“Bad day at the office,” she hedged as she fingered the stem of her glass. “Speaking of which…” her gaze moved back to his “…do you come to my bank often?”

“I never mix business with pleasure,” he answered, doing a little hedging of his own. Then he closed his hand around hers, effectively stilling her restless fingers and completely derailing her thoughts. “And I’m a good listener, Jolie.”

The words startled her for a moment, but the desperation twisting inside her made her weak. She wanted to believe the sincerity in those beautiful brown eyes more than she had ever wanted to believe anything in her entire life. What did that make her?

Reckless? Maybe. Definitely desperate.

“Tell me, Simon,” she said suddenly, not taking the time to analyze what she was going to say, “Do you think we become our parents?” Regret and fear rocketed inside her. She had loved her mother; how could she want to banish her memory? But she did. Jolie wanted to pretend it all away. To act as if it had never happened.

Something resembling concern flickered in his penetrating gaze. “No,” he said emphatically.

“No?” Jolie studied his handsome face for some hint of what he might be thinking. It was as if he knew what she wanted to hear, but how could he?

“Absolutely not,” he said resolutely. “We’re all unique. There’s no one else in the whole world like you, Jolie.” He tasted his wine. “No one,” he added softly. His thumb caressed her hand in a most distracting manner.

She stiffened her spine against the delightful shivers he inspired, and drew her hand away. “You don’t believe in the sins of the father—or mother—and all that jazz?”

He shook his head slowly. “We choose our own path. Nothing is preordained.”

Jolie lifted her glass to her lips, her hand feeling suddenly cold without his warm touch. She drank deeply, then smiled at the man watching her so very intently.

“I hope you’re right, Simon.” She licked her bottom lip, then chewed it thoughtfully for a second or two. “I really hope you’re right.”

“Tell me about you,” he insisted, the words laced with silky charm. “Why don’t you tell me everything about Jolie Randolph?”

Now there was a lethal question. He couldn’t possibly know that he’d just tossed out the one query she felt suddenly unable to answer. Who was she? Had she really taken a trip she didn’t remember? Stolen money from her own bank? The panic reared its ugly head once more. She swallowed tightly, then forced down a gulp of wine. She prayed he didn’t notice the way her hand shook.

“I’m afraid you’d be rather bored with the subject,” she answered. She hated that her voice sounded so thin…so nervous. Where was the strength she knew herself capable of? Where was the real Jolie?

Maybe she was losing more than merely her grip on reality. Maybe she was losing herself.

LATER SIMON INSISTED on walking Jolie to her car. The stars twinkled even brighter now, and the crescent moon looked like a lopsided grin high in the dark Atlanta sky. She smiled, feeling much, much better. Maybe it was the company. She stole a glance at the man beside her.

In profile, Simon Ruhl looked dark and mysterious and utterly gorgeous. Jolie felt giddy with excitement—something she hadn’t felt in a very long time. He was charming and intelligent. Every touch, every look made her feel warm and tingly inside. It was foolish, she knew. But she couldn’t help herself. She felt like a college coed again, out on a date with the most popular hunk on campus.

“This one’s mine,” she said as they neared her Lexus. She stopped when she reached her door, and turned to her dark savior. He really had saved her tonight. Just then his right hand came up to brush a tendril of hair from her cheek, and her breath stalled in her lungs. He was beautiful. Perfect, she amended, like an angel straight from heaven, except he was dark and alluring in a sinful kind of way.

She shivered. The wine, she told herself. It had to be the wine making her so giddy, though she’d consumed scarcely more than a glass. She hadn’t reacted to a man like this since… Who was she kidding? To her knowledge, she had never behaved so irrationally.

“Thank you, Simon,” she said softly, “for dinner and for taking my mind off…things.” She looked up into those dark, dark eyes and forgot anything else she would have said.

“Thank you, Jolie Randolph,” he said just as softly. “For a truly memorable evening.” His smile turned teasing, his words reminding her of her earlier comment about any previous meeting between them having been unmemorable.

Blushing at the faux pas, Jolie stared at her hands as she unconsciously wrung them. How could she have said something so totally lame to this charming and completely gorgeous guy?

As she looked up again Simon moved closer, effectively trapping her between his body and the car. Instead of the warmth he had inspired all evening, unease stole over Jolie. The realization that it was dark and she was alone with a man she had met only hours ago hit her hard. This morning’s panic gripped her all over again. What was wrong with her? Why hadn’t she seen this moment coming? Fresh panic slid down her spine and she flattened herself against the cool metal surface of the car. She had behaved this irrationally before. Last night.

Simon’s gaze latched on to hers, and she knew the instant he recognized her fear.

He stepped back. “I apologize,” he murmured. “It wasn’t my intent to crowd you.”

“I…I should go.” Her heart racing, she reached into her purse for her keys. Her relief was almost palpable when she found them on the first try. She nearly dropped the jangling ring, and Simon took them before she did just that, unlocked and opened her car door.

“Good night, Simon,” she said, as politely as she could manage when he held the keys out for her. She turned away, hoping he wouldn’t notice her jerky movements. She wasn’t losing her mind; she had already lost it. Simon probably thought she was…

She didn’t even want to think about that. This was why she’d never had a decent relationship. She couldn’t trust herself, so how could she trust anyone else? It seemed ludicrous that she’d only this moment realized that sad fact.

“Wait,” he murmured.

Jolie froze. Slowly she faced him once more, the car door between them like a shield. “Yes?” She tensed when he reached toward her, but something in his eyes kept her from drawing away.

He touched her gently, protectively, his fingers tracing the curve of her cheek. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. She could only stare into those intense pools of darkest brown. His thumb slid over her lower lip, sending a rush of desire straight through her. She trembled. As she watched, he slowly, so very slowly, lowered his face to hers. Jolie’s heart thumped hard. She should run, she knew, but she simply could not. He bypassed her lips and kissed her cheek, lingered there a moment longer than necessary.

“Be safe, Jolie,” he whispered against her skin.

Before she could respond, he turned and walked away.

And she still knew nothing at all about Simon Ruhl.

SIMON SAT IN THE concealing darkness of his SUV and watched as Jolie hurried up the walk leading to her apartment building. A few minutes later the lights came on in her living room, then the bedroom. The blinds closed and Simon shifted his gaze to the street in front of him. She was safe at home…

This time.

He closed his eyes, tightened his grip on the steering wheel and fought the urge to go up and stand guard at her door. Clenching his jaw, he tried without success to banish the images that haunted him. The way she smiled, so innocent and trusting. Her blond hair falling around her shoulders, feathery wisps caressing her face. And those eyes—wide, luminous green with tiny flecks of gold. She looked so fragile and sweetly feminine.

He wanted to keep her safe. That wasn’t part of his job. He would not let anything get in his way this time. Brasco was going down one way or another.

Simon opened his eyes and stared up at the now dark windows. He had to remember that Jolie Randolph was a suspect. No matter how he reacted to her physically, and despite his instincts to the contrary, he had to remember that Jolie was most likely up to her pretty neck in serious trouble. Laundering money for the mob was no petty crime. And if she was involved with Brasco, she deserved whatever she got. Simon shook his head at the degree of stupidity he had shown tonight. He had bent his own first rule by kissing the woman. Brief though it might have been, a kiss was a kiss. It wouldn’t have been a big deal if he hadn’t been affected, if he hadn’t wanted to pull her into his arms and make it real…but he had.

Still wanted to. Simon swallowed back the need welling inside him. He swore hotly at his inability to maintain control. He could deal with the fact that Jolie Randolph was beautiful. He could even deal with the slender curves of her toned body. But what he couldn’t turn away from was the sweetness, the innocence she radiated. She needed protecting, and the damned woman didn’t even know it. Whether she was guilty or not, which she probably was, Jolie was on the edge of a deadly precipice. Men like Raymond Brasco played for keeps. Big Ray or any one of his men wouldn’t hesitate to kill someone like Jolie if she got in his way or failed to live up to his expectations. Simon knew that firsthand. The input he’d received from his old colleague at the local Bureau office backed up his every conclusion.

Raymond Brasco hadn’t changed.

Jolie Randolph was in over her head.

And Simon wanted to protect her more than he wanted to take his next breath, and that didn’t sit well with him. He had a job to do. This time it was personal. He had been watching Jolie and another of the bank’s employees, Mark Boyer, for two weeks now. He likely knew more about them than they knew about themselves, particularly Jolie. Simon’s former life in the Federal Bureau of Investigation had taught him every trick in the book when it came to profiling a suspect.

Unfortunately, the time he had spent watching Jolie had somehow evolved into something deeper for him. And that was dangerous, for her and for him. Not to mention it had never happened to him before. Not once. But her circumstances were different. There were things she apparently didn’t know. Things that could tear her whole world apart.

Tomorrow his cover at the bank would be put in place, facilitating the investigation requested by the bank’s board of directors. By hiring the Colby Agency to look into the situation, they hoped to head off a full-fledged federal investigation and possible scandal in the media. With major corporations making the headlines every day, the board wanted action fast.

Monitoring Jolie’s and Mark Boyer’s activities at work would be much easier from the inside. The contact he’d had with Jolie so far would keep her off balance. Simon needed her unsure of herself. Boyer was slick, and tripping him up wouldn’t be easy. But Jolie was vulnerable. Simon had no choice but to work this investigation from the most accessible angle. He had to turn up the heat and intensify the pressure until she snapped. Time was of the essence. The feds wouldn’t be put off much longer. They wanted answers.

The memory of the way Jolie had looked at him in the bank today when she’d hesitated at the top of the stairs, as if she had remembered something or recognized him, seeped into his thoughts. Simon’s response was immediate and savage. That connection had been real, at least on some level. He had felt it too strongly to believe otherwise. And tonight, there had been something…some sort of mental as well as physical connection.

If he couldn’t maintain his objectivity where Jolie was concerned, Simon would have to reconsider his strategy. Maybe even turn over her after-hours surveillance to another investigator at the Colby Agency. Simon had already taken a risk by not telling Victoria that this case hit far too close to home, was personal to him on more than one level. She wouldn’t like it if she discovered his omission. He would simply have to deal with her disappointment and irritation when the time came. All that mattered to him at the moment was bringing down Brasco. If Simon had to call in backup to prevent getting in too deep with Jolie, then he would. That would keep him on track and out of trouble.

But he had a feeling that no force on earth could keep him from wanting Jolie.