Читать книгу The Devil You Know - Laurie Paige - Страница 9

V eronica Dalton glanced at her watch and wrinkled her nose in mock despair. “Gotta punch the time clock,” she declared. She counted out enough money to cover her part of the check and tip.

Her best friend, Patricia Upjohn, rolled her eyes at the totally false statement. “Roni, Roni,” she scolded. “Count your blessings. Others should be so lucky as to have your hours. And your boss.”

With a degree in computer science, Roni worked at home, writing computer learning games for children. Her actual working hours were up to her.

And Patricia was right about the boss. Besides being nice, a great guy and all that, he was a hunk. A woman with any sense would go for him in a heartbeat.

Roni tried to look contrite. “I agree. You bankers pay the price for serving humanity.”

“We do our best,” Patricia said humbly.

This time it was Roni who rolled her eyes. “Same time next week?” she asked, standing.

“Right.”

She bid her friend goodbye and threaded her way through the luncheon crowd. The Friday crunch was getting worse, it seemed to her. They might have to select another day for their weekly lunch. Maybe she could talk her boss into changing their Friday morning meetings to Monday.

No, bad idea. People tended to be grouchy first thing on Mondays. Tuesdays would work, though. Or Wednesdays.

Contemplating what other day of the week would be better for Patricia, she detoured past a group who were still saying their farewells and blocking the narrow space around their table. At that moment, one of the departing men stepped backward without looking. He crashed into Roni, sending her careening to the right…and facedown onto the next table.

At nose level—she wasn’t quite lying prone on the white cloth—she observed as water glasses and coffee cups jostled wildly while dinner plates skidded dangerously near the edge. She had a split second to be grateful the plates were mostly empty and that she hadn’t landed on one.

The larger and older of the two men took the brunt of the accident as hot and cold liquids sloshed onto his lap.

“I’m so sorry,” she managed to say as the man leaped from his chair and gave her an indignant glare as he brushed droplets from his clothing. Luckily his napkin had absorbed most of the damage.

“Oh, sorry,” muttered the coward who’d bumped her. He hurried away, leaving her to face the wrath of the drenched diner alone.

“Use this,” a masculine baritone advised.

A clean napkin was thrust into her hand. She carefully blotted drops off the other man’s tie. “Blot, don’t swipe,” she told the furious diner. “That way, you won’t push the stain into the material.”

Having grown up in an all male household—two older brothers, three older cousins, plus Uncle Nick, who’d raised all six orphans—she’d learned early how to manage most household tasks. Finished, she surveyed the man. “There, not a stain in sight,” she said in relief.

“A good thing for you,” the man snarled.

“It wasn’t her fault,” his companion said. “The other man knocked her off her feet. Are you okay?” he asked her.

Roni swung her head around in shock as recognition flashed through her. A jolt went all the way to her toes as she met the cool gray gaze of the man who’d handed her the napkin. “Adam!” she said, then couldn’t think of another word, she was that surprised to see him.

Adam Smith was the very attractive but aloof brother of Honey Smith Dalton, who was married to Roni’s cousin Zack. Neither had mentioned that Adam was expected in the area. Why was he in the city rather than at the ranch? And why was he dressed in a business suit? Was he working?

Along with the questions came the intense excitement and pure joy of seeing him, all mixed up with a welter of other emotions too confusing to be defined. So she stood there smiling at him, speechless but smiling radiantly in happy surprise.

“Hello, Little Bits,” he said with casual amusement.

Before she could question him about his presence in Boise, Idaho, when she knew he worked in the southern California office of the FBI, he stood, gathered her close and kissed the startled “Oh!” off her mouth.

In this swirl of confusion, she felt herself being lifted off her feet and turned so that Adam’s back was to his companion. He released her mouth and nibbled at her ear. “I’ll explain later,” he murmured for her hearing only.

She blinked, forced herself to breathe, then nodded as if she knew what he was talking about.

“Roni, this is Greg Williams,” Adam continued, turning them to the other man. “Greg, Veronica Dalton. Call her Roni if you value your life.”

Greg was poster handsome, but beginning to run to fat. Too many three-martini lunches, she surmised. He wasn’t as old as she’d first thought, but was around the same age as Adam, who was thirty-six, ten years older than her own twenty-six years. Whenever they happened to be at the same place at the same time, he treated her as if she were a precocious six-year-old. Hence her shock at the kiss.

“I didn’t realize you had friends here,” Greg said to Adam, eyeing them both suspiciously.

“I’ve worked with her cousin on a couple of things,” Adam replied with that same casual amusement. “We met at his wedding. Naturally I looked her up when I came to town.”

Liar.

The word leaped to Roni’s lips, but she didn’t say it. Instead she smiled demurely and tried not to appear confused as the falsehoods fell from his lips as easily as rain from a stormy sky.

His hand rested on the small of her back—a warm, beguiling touch that made her want to lean into him. Since it was totally at odds with the manner in which they’d parted two months ago at her uncle’s ranch—he’d made it clear there was nothing between them and there would never be—she resisted the urge.

The only explanation for his sexy, shocking and out-of-character greeting, and his presence here rather than a thousand miles away, was that he must be on a case. Therefore, she would keep her mouth shut and her questions to herself. For the present.

Speculation now leaped into the other man’s eyes while he sized her up. He gave a half shrug as if deciding she wasn’t his type, then moved aside as the waiter finally came forward and deftly began removing the wet tablecloth.

“See you later,” Adam said, his tone affectionate, but the jab in the small of her back told her to leave. Pronto!

She did.

Adam smiled at the friendly squeak of the wooden plank as he crossed the front porch and rang the doorbell of the tiny house located in a block of similar cottage-style homes. The address had surprised him. He’d expected Roni Dalton to live in one of the new, ultra-smart condos being built in prime areas around the city. This neighborhood was definitely blue-collar.

The Saturday morning activities were what he would expect in such a place. It was the third of May, a sunny, pleasant day to be outside. Two doors down, a teenager was polishing an older model car to a high gloss. It was probably his first vehicle. The family compact station wagon was parked on the street.

Next door, an elderly black couple worked in the yard, weeding around hundreds of spring bulbs that were in bloom in raised flower beds. Roni’s yard was similar, a springtime riot of flowering quince, forsythia, tulips and daffodils.

For a moment, he recalled that daffodils had been his mother’s favorite flower. “Daffy-down-dillies,” she’d called them, bringing an armful into the kitchen and arranging them in empty mayonnaise jars so that they’d looked like splashes of sunshine in the house.

An unexpected pang accompanied the nearly forgotten memory, reminding him that once he’d thought life was perfect. Mom and dad, a new baby sister, a house in a quiet neighborhood, flowers and friends and cook-outs in the backyard. A ten-year-old’s world was small.

The door opened, bringing his thoughts back to the present. Roni gave him an unwelcome glare. “I expected you yesterday,” she stated.

She didn’t step back and open the door so he could enter. He wasn’t inclined to discuss his business on the squeaky wooden porch that ran across the front of the house.

“May I come in?” he asked, keeping his tone neutral and carefully polite. In contrast, his heart was suddenly pumping like an athlete’s in the final phase of a triathlon.

She wore a sort of sweat outfit, only it was made of a fleecy material like a baby blanket. Its deep royal blue matched that of her eyes. Dalton eyes. The whole tight-knit clan had those same startling blue eyes, as blue as an afternoon sky on a summer day in the mountains.

Unlike the tall, rangy males in her family, she was petite, maybe five-three, with tiny bones and slender curves. Nearly black hair lay in thick, shining waves to the middle of her back. Black eyebrows and eyelashes accented the color of her eyes and her fair skin. The pink in her cheeks was natural.

A tiny Venus. A tomboy. A computer whiz. He’d met her nearly a year ago and she still intrigued him.

Don’t get carried away, he warned, taking an amused attitude at the heart-pounding, blood-warming sight before him. He’d dealt with women more beautiful, more sophisticated and certainly more agreeable than this one in both his professional and his private life.

However, she could qualify for the most obstinate female he’d ever run across, he decided while he waited for her to make up her mind.

After mulling his request over for a full thirty seconds, she finally moved aside enough so that he could get in the door. Only a tiny part of his mind registered the closing of the door behind them as he surveyed the room.

The place was awash with color, pink and green being predominant. The kitchen and living room had been remodeled into one large, open space with an island separating them. A sink was handily located in the island, and two tall stools on the near side provided a place for casual dining.

On the back wall, an old-fashioned stove, enameled in green, held a simmering pot of soup or stew or something that smelled delicious.

The area rug was green with roses woven into it in multiple hues of pink. A green, white and black border highlighted the center floral part. White beadboard lined the bottom three feet of the wall, matching the cabinets in the kitchen. Pink-striped wallpaper covered the walls of the living room while green and white tiles formed the counter and the backsplash.

An oak armoire was open and revealed a television in its upper section. A sofa in tan and green chenille, an easy chair in tan leather and an oak rocker with pink and green plaid cushions completed a cozy grouping. End tables and a sturdy coffee table were laden with potted plants and magazines about computers and gardening.

The coffee table was painted white, but the green paint from a former life was visible along the edges and legs, and before that, it might have been black. On the walls, family photographs were mixed in casual groupings with gilt-framed mirrors and dark wooden frames of still life paintings that could have come from an ancient attic. Off to one side—where a dining table should have been, he surmised—a quilt was rolled on a quilting frame, a needle with gold thread stuck in one of the squares of material as if the seamstress would be gone only a moment.

The effect of the furnishings was one of odds and ends put together in a charming fashion. For some reason, the place made him feel uneasy, as if he were an unwelcome intruder into her personal space.

“The bathroom is through there,” she said, gesturing toward a door.

Adam realized he’d been silent and staring for much longer than polite interest allowed. “What are the other doors?” he asked, indicating the rectangular hallway to the left of the living room. Three doors opened off it, the middle one being the bathroom she’d pointed to.

“Two bedrooms. I use one for an office.” She went into the kitchen and held up a coffeepot, giving him a questioning glance.

He nodded, and she poured them each a cup of coffee. She pushed one across the surface of the island in his direction. He stepped closer and leaned an elbow on the green and white tiles while he took a sip of the brew.

“This is good,” he said. “Strong and hot, just the way I like it.”

“I remember,” she said. “From the wedding.”

The Dalton family had come to LA so he could participate in his sister’s wedding. He’d walked Honey down the aisle and given her into Zack Dalton’s loving arms.

The emotion of the moment had surprised him. But then, his little sis was about the only thing in the world that he loved unconditionally and without reserve.

When Honey had been a baby, their father had been killed in a bar shoot-out. The quiet, gentle man hadn’t been involved but was just in the wrong place at the wrong moment when a couple of punks had run into each other and pulled their pieces, killing three bystanders. Then their mom had died when Honey was three and he was thirteen. They had gone to live with an aunt who hadn’t wanted them.

So much for his family ties.

Roni’s life hadn’t been all that easy, he admitted to himself, pulling out a stool and straddling it. She, too, had been orphaned when a freak avalanche had wiped out her family.

Luckily, her uncle, Nicholas Dalton of Seven Devils Ranch, located near a small town about an hour’s drive north of the city, had taken the kids in and given them a good home. A loving home. Yeah, she’d been lucky.

“So what are you doing in town?” she asked, direct and to the point, as usual.

He’d already considered and discarded several answers to this question. He’d decided on the truth. With her, it was the only way. “Working.”

“In Boise? Since when?”

Adam smiled in resignation. In a city of barely 200,000 population, he hadn’t really thought he could avoid her forever, especially since his sister was married to her cousin. But he’d hoped.

“Since last month. I’ve been in town two weeks. I’m on new assignment. Bank fraud division.”

“Bank fraud,” she repeated blankly.

He didn’t blame her for the incomprehension. He’d been undercover on a police corruption case when they’d met. The white-collar world of offshore corporations, wired money transfers and fake companies was far from rogue cops, drug-trafficking and extortion.

“I recently finished the course work for a degree in business,” he added as if this explained everything.

In a way it did. International crime being what it was, agents proficient in accounting and computer science were more valuable to the bureau on a day-to-day basis than sharpshooters and such.

“And?”

He shrugged. “And I’ve been assigned to this district to investigate corporate fraud.”

“Like, you hack into their computer systems and read their e-mails and see what the executive officers are up to?”

“Hardly,” he replied. “Banks are required by law to report movements of large sums of money under certain conditions—”

“Money laundering,” she interrupted.

“That might figure into it,” he admitted.

“Offshore corporations to hide debt,” she continued.

Her beautiful eyes gleamed with interest now. He suppressed a groan. He didn’t need her meddling any more than he needed the insistent hunger she induced in him. It echoed through him now, a primal drive that couldn’t be denied, although he tried to ignore it.

That kiss in March, when they’d both visited their mutual relatives, had been a mistake, a madness that had buzzed through him and shredded his good intentions, which were to avoid her as much as possible and never, ever so much as touch her hand. So here he was, in her charming home, yesterday’s kiss fresh in his mind.

What was that saying? Out of the frying pan and into the fire? Yeah, that was it.

“I can help,” she told him. “I’m really good with a computer. We could put a worm in their program—”

“I have plenty of expertise within the department to call on,” he informed her coolly. “If I need it.”

“Yes, I suppose you do,” she said, in as cool a tone as he’d used. She glanced at the wall clock. “It’s time for lunch. Do you want to join me? There’s plenty.”

He knew he shouldn’t. Common sense told him to leave and not look back. He should make it clear he wanted her to stay out of his life and his cases. Instead, he nodded.

“That smells incredibly good,” he said when she set a brimming bowl in front of him.

“Uncle Nick’s specialty.” Her smile was warm. “On Saturday, he’d throw all the leftovers in a pot and make ‘poor-man’s stew.’ With fresh bread, that was our dinner.”

She removed a big skillet of corn bread from the oven, flipped it over on a platter, cut it into wedges, then put it and the butter on the island. She joined him on the matching stool. “Here’s to your health,” she said, picking up her spoon.

He ate three pieces of corn bread and two bowls of stew. “That was the best meal I’ve had since…since I last visited your uncle’s ranch.”

Instead of looking pleased at the compliment to her relative, her mood became pensive.

“What?” he asked, his voice dropping a register and sounding way too intimate in the silent cottage. He cleared his throat.

“Uncle Nick,” she murmured. “Beau says he’s doing fine, but I worry about him. He’s had a couple of spells with his heart this winter. I wish…”

“You wish?” he finally prompted when she was silent for a long minute.

“I wish we could find Tink for him.”

Adam knew that Theresa, or Tink, as she was called, was Nick’s only child and had disappeared at the scene of a car wreck that had killed her mother when the girl was only three and a half. The Dalton patriarch was in his seventies and had always longed to find his missing daughter. Beset with heart problems, his time could be running out.

For a few seconds, he contemplated the older man’s pain at losing his wife and child in that manner, then he shook his head. That was one reason he’d never let himself get too deeply involved with a woman. Emotion was too costly.

“What?” he asked, noting Roni’s sharp stare.

“Maybe you could help. I know, you can help me find Tink, and I’ll help you with your case.” She smiled brightly as if this solved some grand problem in the universe.

“Huh,” he said, putting a damper on that idea.

She gave him a grimace, then her impish grin returned. “You’ll be sorry you turned down such a good offer. I make a hundred dollars an hour as a consultant in my spare time.”

“Bully for you,” he muttered.

She laughed, then refilled his coffee cup. “Let’s go over here where it’s more comfortable.”

He took the leather easy chair while she snuggled into a corner of the sofa, kicked off her loafers and tucked her feet under her. Heat stirred through him. It settled in the lower part of his body, making him hot and wary of lingering in her house.

His usual reaction to her, he admitted. Lust and caution. How was that for a mixed combination?

“When did you get this place?” he asked as the silence became heavy with tension. Or maybe it was just him.

She seemed perfectly at ease as she blew gently over the surface of the hot coffee. “A month ago. I often jogged through this neighborhood and saw it as soon as it came on the market. I decided I’d rather have a house of my own, so I sold the condo and bought this.”

“With the increase in home prices, that was probably a wise move.”

“Will you be looking for a place to buy?”

“No.”

“You needn’t look as if a home is a ball and chain. It could be a good investment, even for someone who moves around fairly often. And you get tax breaks. My brother has preached home ownership as long as I can remember.”

Adam assumed she referred to Seth, who was an attorney and the oldest of her siblings. Her other brother was a doctor. One of her cousins was a deputy sheriff—he’d told Greg the truth when he’d said he’d worked with Roni’s cousin—while two others were ranchers. The five Dalton males and Roni, the lone female of the six orphans taken in by their uncle, had pitched in to build a resort in the mountains beside a small lake. If all went well, it was supposed to open this summer.

He realized that, with his sister married to the deputy, he knew a lot about the Dalton family. Their ancestors had been on the ranch for well over a hundred years. First Family of Idaho and all that. One cousin was married to a senator’s daughter. The senator was running for governor and would likely be elected in November.

For himself, he knew his family history only to his parents. All the grandparents had died before or shortly after his birth. Where their people had come from, he hadn’t a clue, except they were European for the most part with a little Hispanic and possibly Native American brought in from his mother’s grandmother.

Giving himself a mental shake, he wondered what the heck was wrong with him today. A glance at Roni gave him a hint. Each time he came into contact with her he ended up frustrated and angry.

Because he wanted her.

“What is it?” she suddenly asked.

“What is what?” he countered.

“Heavy sigh. Grim face. I know you aren’t involved with a woman. So, did someone just shoot your dog?”

“How do you know I’m not involved with a woman?” he demanded, irked at her certainty.

“Honey said you didn’t allow anyone to get too close. Your sister worries about your being all alone in the cold, cruel world.”

“My sister should take care of herself and not worry about me,” he muttered.

Roni smiled. “Then you know she’s expecting.”

The news stunned him.

She studied him. “You didn’t know. Well, no one told me it was a secret. She announced it last Sunday when we had dinner at the ranch. If you visited more often, then you would catch up on the news.”

A baby. His little sister. He’d looked after her since she was three years old. It felt odd that she was now involved in a major life change with no input from him.

Roni continued, her eyes dreamy the way women’s went when talking about babies and all that. “With Beau having a son, then Travis and Alison having their baby in March and now Zack and Honey expecting, Uncle Nick is in heaven. He’s hot after the rest of us to settle down and start families.”

Other than his sister’s nuptials, Adam had avoided the rash of Dalton marriages the past year by dint of his work. Roni’s two brothers had married only a few months ago.

“Must be something in the water,” he said, irritated by this whole conversation.

The youngest Dalton orphan laughed in delight. “That’s what I told Uncle Nick. I said I was bringing my own bottled water with me to the ranch in the future.”

“Good thinking,” Adam told her sardonically.

She gave him a shrewd glance. “Uncle Nick said if I got pregnant without being married the man would answer to him.”

“And to your brothers and cousins.”

“Yes. They all agreed they would straighten things out for me.”

Her laughter became a sigh as she lapsed into introspection. Women made him nervous when they talked of babies and marriage. He had no time for it, and he always made that clear at the beginning of a relationship.

Relationship? Other than one six-month, on-again, off-again entanglement, at the end of which he’d been accused of indifference, he hadn’t seen a woman socially for…mmm, two years?

Yep, it had been at least that long. Once he’d started working on the police corruption case in LA, he’d been in deep cover. He hadn’t even communicated with his sister except under the most secret of coded messages.

Even that precaution had failed.

The thugs had sent hit men looking for her in order to flush him out. She could have been killed—

He put a halt to his morbid thoughts. All had ended well with the case wrapped up, the hit men and the bad cops behind bars and his life in the open again. Investigating corporate crime was mostly an office job, nine to five and weekends free.

Free.

That suited him just fine and that was the way he intended to stay. Women always wanted more—more time, more commitment, more of everything. He’d learned to keep things on a light note.

“Anyway,” he said, eager to finish the conversation and get out of the cozy bungalow, “I just wanted to let you know I’m too busy to be involved with you in any capacity.”

There, that should make things clear to her.

Her dark, delicately arched eyebrows rose as she gave him a lofty perusal.

“Get over yourself,” she advised.