Chapter Twenty-Nine
By the time the chartered jet landed at Sea-Tac Airport, Ethan had given up any pretense that he and Val weren’t in some sort of a relationship, Carlyle and the rest be damned.
He was staying with Valerie Hartman until the riddle of Delilah’s murder was solved and the models were completely out of danger.
All he had to do was convince Val.
They were riding in the back of the limo, one in a line of private cars that were waiting when the models arrived at the airport.
“There’s something we need to talk about,” Val said before he could broach the subject. “We might as well talk about it now.”
“All right, go ahead.”
She released a slow breath. “I know you’re still worried about my safety, but this .
. . this bodyguard thing can’t go on forever.
You said yourself we were going home and everything would be okay.
Byron Mahler is no longer a threat. The tour is canceled.
The models are no longer in the media spotlight.
I can’t live under house arrest for the balance of my life. ”
“You aren’t under house arrest. You have personal protection. So does Bill Gates. So does Lady Gaga. A lot of people do.”
“Well, I’m not one of them. I need to get my life back in order, and that doesn’t include spending every minute with an armed guard.”
His jaw tightened. “That’s the way you think of me? As your jailer?”
Surprise flickered in her eyes. “No, of course not. I didn’t mean it that way.” She reached for his hand, held it between both of hers. “I’ve never met a man like you. I’ve never felt the things you make me feel, but . . .”
“But what, Val?”
“But that’s just it—I don’t know! A man in your line of work .
. . I don’t know how I feel about that. I still have a contract to fulfill with La Belle and now David Klein.
I have online classes to finish. I’ve got a part-time job waiting at the animal clinic, then school in a few more weeks.
I don’t know where this relationship could possibly go, and I don’t think you do either. ”
He clamped down on an urge to show her exactly where it could go—straight back to bed. But maybe she was right. Maybe he didn’t have everything completely worked out. And clearly he had his hands full with Hannah and Ally.
It didn’t mean he was anywhere near ready to end things between them.
And it didn’t change the fact that he needed to keep her safe.
“Look, Val, Mahler didn’t kill Delilah—we know that. Nothing about the two cases matches up. Someone else killed her, and that means your life could still be at risk.”
“You said her killer was a pro. That’s some kind of hit man, right? That means it was personal. Someone wanted her, specifically, dead.”
“That’s only a theory. Just because the guy was thorough doesn’t mean he couldn’t be as crazy as Byron Mahler. It doesn’t mean he couldn’t be lying in wait, getting ready to take you out or kill one of the other girls.”
She fell silent. Her big blue eyes searched his face. “You really think the killer might come after me or one of the other models?”
He reached toward her, cupped a hand beneath her jaw.
“That’s the thing, baby. I don’t know. Until I do, I need to be close enough to protect you.
” He didn’t tell her he’d nearly gone out of his mind when he’d realized she was locked in a room with the crazy son of a bitch who had raped and brutally murdered Mandy Gee.
That it still haunted him that he hadn’t been there when she’d needed him most.
He tipped her head back and settled his lips very softly over hers, began a gentle persuasion. He wasn’t beyond using sex to get what he wanted. One thing he knew: Val liked sex and she liked it with him.
Ethan deepened the kiss, kissed her until she moaned into his mouth. If the car hadn’t been so close to the duplex, he might have had the driver raise the privacy partition and taken her right there on the seat.
Instead, he eased a little away, kissed the side of her neck, dropped slow kisses along her jaw. “I’ll give you as much space as I possibly can, all right?”
She slid her hand behind his neck and pulled his mouth back down for another steamy kiss. Her lips were soft and moist and he was rock hard. Ethan bit back a groan.
The limo pulled up in front of her house. Steeling himself, he ended the kiss and shifted his erection into a more comfortable position.
The driver opened the door. “We’re here, Ms. Hart.”
Ethan climbed out of the car and made a quick check of their surroundings. His Jeep was parked in front of Val’s garage, where his brother had moved it for him.
Seeing nothing but a woman out walking her dog and a man riding his bicycle beneath the trees overhanging the street, Ethan helped Val out of the limo while the driver took their suitcases out of the trunk.
The door to the other duplex swung open and an elderly lady dressed in turquoise Capri pants and a loose white cotton blouse shuffled out. She waved, setting her thin gray curls in motion.
“Welcome home,” she called out. “Kinda surprised to see you. I didn’t think you’d be comin’ back so soon.”
Val hurried up her neighbor’s walkway, then climbed the steps to the porch and gave the old woman a hug. “We weren’t supposed to be back, but the tour got canceled. Long story. Thanks so much, Mrs. Oakley, for taking care of Snoozie. I hope he wasn’t too much trouble.”
“Not a bit. But I think he’s been missing you. He wanders out in his yard and prowls around like he’s looking for you. He’ll be glad you’re back.”
The women chatted while the limo driver carried the luggage up to Val’s front door. Ethan tipped the man, then walked over to join the women.
Val turned to her neighbor. “Mrs. Oakley, this is Ethan Brodie. He’s my . . . he’s a friend.”
The older woman’s eyes took him in from top to bottom. “Well, aren’t you a big strappin’ fella. ’Bout time Valerie found herself a man.”
Val flushed and he felt a trickle of amusement. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Oakley.”
“You too, Ethan. You be good to our girl now, you hear?”
“I will, I promise.”
Val tugged him down the steps and over to her side of the duplex. She waved at her neighbor, who went back inside and closed her door. “She’s a sweet lady, but Mrs. O. will talk your ears off if you aren’t careful.”
But the lady thought Val needed a man and he was currently that man, so he kind of liked the old woman.
Ethan took Val’s keys and went inside to clear the house. Her big gray tom sauntered up to him and meowed. Ethan scooped him up and stroked his short gray fur, making him purr as he carried the cat back to the living room.
“Snoozie!” Val hurried over and took the big cat from his arms. “Mama’s sweet baby. I missed you so much.”
Ethan grinned. Damn, she was cute.
While Val carried the cat into the bedroom and started to unpack, Ethan got on the phone to his office.
He spoke to Ian, bringing him up to speed on Byron Mahler’s recent demise, as well as the idea of revisiting the people in Delilah Larsen’s past. He talked to Luke, who was back in town after picking up his latest bail skip.
Once his calls were made, he set up his laptop. Basically, he was moving in with Val, a notion that should have made him run as far and as fast as he could. Instead, knowing Val was in the house, that they would be sharing a bed, he felt completely at ease.
He walked over to his suitcase. He didn’t have much to unpack.
His tux would have to go to the cleaners.
His underwear and socks, T-shirts, and jeans needed to be laundered.
He had a feeling Val wouldn’t be thrilled if he asked to use her washing machine.
She might feel he was getting too close, penning her in—exactly the way he should have been feeling.
Hell, there was something kind of intimate about it.
Ethan grinned and started walking toward her bedroom. Almost sex had gotten him this far. Maybe he needed to finish what he’d started in the limo. His groin tightened as he imagined her lying on her big king-size bed, imagined himself driving hard inside her.
With any luck, what he had in mind would convince her she was glad he was there.
Maybe even after they caught themselves a killer.
Meg had been putting it off. Now that she was home, she couldn’t wait any longer.
“We need to talk, Dirk.” He’d checked the house, then made himself at home as only Dirk could do, rummaging around in her fridge, grabbing himself a beer and cranking off the cap, drinking half the bottle in a few long swallows.
She’d only recently purchased the newer home in Madison Park, but it was perfect for her and Charlie. With four bedrooms, a family room, and three and a half baths, there was plenty of room for a family. The best part was the large fenced backyard, a great place for Charlie to play.
Dirk ambled toward her. “You want to talk, then talk.” He upended the bottle and took another long swallow of beer.
Meg pulled in a slow breath. Just watching him made her wish he would carry her off to bed. He was the hottest guy she’d ever met. More than that, he was sweet and smart, and she was crazy about him.
Meg ignored the soft lump rising in her throat, her gaze still on Dirk. With his colorful tattoos, sexy mustache, and cocky grin, he looked completely out of place in her practical single-family house, where a little boy would soon be playing on the floor with his toys.
It was a tract house, roomy, more expensive than most because of its Madison Park location, fairly ordinary in design. But there was nothing the least bit ordinary about Dirk Reynolds.
“So . . . my mom and dad are coming over later tonight,” she said, forcing out the words. “They’re bringing Charlie home.”
He plopped down on the sofa. “Good. I’ll finally get a chance to meet him.” He looked up. “And your folks.”
Meg shook her head. Just the way he sat there, one of his muscled arms resting on the back of the sofa, made her yearn for him. Made her heart hurt at the thought of losing him.
“As much as I appreciate everything you’ve done to protect and keep me safe, I can’t introduce you. My parents would never approve of me dating a man like you, not when I have a child to think of.”
His lean-muscled body went rigid. He sat forward on the sofa. “A man like me? What the hell’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing! There’s nothing the least bit wrong with you. You just . . . you aren’t the kind of man I need.”
He set his beer bottle down on the coffee table and got up off the couch.
“Bullshit. I’m exactly the kind of man you need.
I have a job. I work hard. I have money in the bank.
I’m not some loser you picked up on the street.
I can take care of you as well as any other man.
” His gaze slowly raked her, fastened on the swell of cleavage above her pink tank. “Better.”
She ignored the tingling that shot through her body. He had certainly taken care of her in bed.
“I know that. Physically, we’re very . . . compatible. But it has to be more than that. Please don’t make this any harder than it is already.”
He grabbed her hand, pressed it against the fly of his jeans. “I can’t get much harder, Meg. That’s the way I walk around half the time when I’m with you. I can’t get enough of you, honey. I wanted you the first time I saw you. I still do.”
Her throat felt tight. “Don’t you see? Wanting isn’t enough.
I’m only going to be modeling for another year, two at the most. By then I’ll have enough money put away so I can stay home and take care of my son full-time, work at something I really want to do.
I’ve always wanted to own my own business. I might give that a try.”
“So you’ll own a business. Whatever you do, you’ll do it well. That’s just the way you are. Doesn’t mean we can’t be together.”
Her heart squeezed. She hadn’t realized he would think they could continue. “Maybe not, but once I’m ready to settle down, I’ll be looking for more than just a fling, more than just sex with a man I’m wildly attracted to.”
His hazel eyes sparked with interest. “Wildly attracted? That’s how you feel?” He caught her hand. “Come on, let’s go to bed. You always see things more clearly after you’re relaxed.”
Meg jerked free. “That’s the problem, Dirk Reynolds! You think sex is the answer to everything. Maybe if I didn’t have Charlie, it would be. At least until you got tired of me or . . . or I got tired of you.”
His masculine features tightened. “Is that it? You just wanted a fling and now you’ve had enough?”
“No! You know . . . it . . . it wasn’t that way. But now we’re home and things . . . things are different.”
A muscle clenched in his jaw. “You’re really serious about this. You want us to be over.”
She didn’t want that. She didn’t want it so badly she ached. “It has to be. I have a son. He’s got to be my first priority.”
She saw the moment the barb struck, when he realized she meant every word. He paced away, turned back to face her. “See, that’s the thing you don’t get, Meg. You wouldn’t have to choose between us. You could have both of us in your life. You didn’t have to choose, but you just did.”
Meg’s heart seemed to stop beating.
“Until we’re sure you and the other models are safe, you’re going to need some kind of protection. I’ll put a man out front. You’ll be covered twenty-four seven.”
She started trembling. “I wish . . . I wish it could be different.”
“It could have been, Meg. If it was what you really wanted.” Dirk crossed the room and yanked open the door. “Have a good life, baby.” And then he was gone.
The sound of his footsteps descending the front stairs made her feel dizzy. Meg heard him fire up his Harley and rev the engine. Dirk popped the clutch, gunned the motor, and roared away, the sound of his muffler slowly fading.
Her heart throbbed dully. He wouldn’t be back. She knew it deep in her soul. Dirk Reynolds wasn’t the kind of man who came back once a woman turned him away.
Meg dropped down on the sofa. Her eyes burned and hot tears scalded her cheeks. She’d done the right thing. She’d given up Dirk for little Charlie. But dear God, she hadn’t realized it was going to hurt so much.