скачать книгу бесплатно
“No. Myself, maybe,” she offered. “I hit my head and then I dropped my cards and…do I have to stay like this? All the blood is running to my head. I was already dizzy and now I feel like I’m going to faint.”
He backed off, putting the gun away, thank goodness, shutting her front door quietly. “No, no, get up. Please. Whatever. Sorry.”
“Whew.” Slowly, carefully, Zoë straightened, lifting a hand to her head. Yes, she was still a little light-headed, but not too bad. Meanwhile, his gaze was positively glued to her bottom. It was probably not his fault, she allowed, considering how brief her shorts were, especially when she’d been bent over like that. What was the poor thing supposed to look at?
But how humiliating. The only cute guy who’d been in her apartment for weeks, and he barged in while she was woozy, sweaty, upside down and had half her butt exposed. She ventured a glance his way. He didn’t look too upset by the short-shorts problem. In fact, he looked positively…intrigued. Zoë swallowed. Yep, he was still looking at her.
After tugging the edge of her shorts down, she pushed a few tendrils of hair back into her braids, blew on her face and hoped she wasn’t too flushed. Oh, forget it. She looked hideous. There was no point in trying to spruce herself up at this point. The light she’d seen in his eyes must be her imagination. No man in the world sent out vibes of interest to a woman who looked like this.
Careful to avoid all the spilled cards, she edged around so that at least her front side was facing him. And then she gave him a real once-over. Okay, twice. He knew she was looking. She knew he knew. And she didn’t care. Because the view was that good.
Light brown hair, cut short. Good, clean jawline. Blue eyes. Very blue. There was a sort of speculative, suspicious look in those eyes she found oddly attractive. That and his mouth. He had these quirky lips, kind of narrow and clever, fuller on the bottom. She liked the look of those lips. A lot.
He was tall, maybe six foot one or two, with broad shoulders, and a real presence. Nothing she could put her finger on but… Alive. Vital. Rooted. Right here. Right now. He looked like the kind of guy you would run to when a tornado just blew your house away and you didn’t have a thing left in the world and you didn’t care because you had him.
Zoë’s eyes met his. Good Lord, he was cute. In a very traditional, button-down, authority-figure way, of course, which was not her type at all. So incredibly and completely not her type. He’d pulled a gun on her, for goodness’ sake!
Now if he would only stop sending her those sizzling glances. They made her want to run to him and tackle him. Which was probably a very bad thing. She vowed to do a better job of being immune to whatever he was sending out.
She lifted her chin. “Why in the world did you come barreling in like that? Pointing that thing at me!”
“I heard thumps and a scream. The door was open, there was a definite haze in here, and it smelled like marijuana.” He looked kind of grouchy as he scanned the room again. “How many candles are you burning? And why?”
“I don’t think how many candles I’m burning is any of your business. And it’s sandalwood, not marijuana. Jeez Louise, what kind of cop are you?”
“I thought there might be a burglary in progress, or maybe some kind of drug party gone bad,” he explained curtly. “That does not smell like sandalwood. You’re not burning the candles to cover the pot smell, are you? Is anyone else here? Is there a back door?”
“No, no, and no. I’m alone. The candles are supposed to be good for meditation. I don’t have a back door.” She took a sniff. Good grief. He was right. It didn’t smell like sandalwood. No wonder she wasn’t getting any calmer. “I’m going to have to have a talk with the lady at the New Age store downstairs. She swore these were sandalwood.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well, it’s true.” She tried to plant her hands on her hips and look menacing, but her hand hit the smooth, hard edge of the tarot card poking out of her back pocket. Hmm…one card in her pocket. If one fell out or otherwise distanced itself from the pack, that was supposed to be significant. She pulled it out of her pocket and glanced down.
“That’s odd,” she murmured. It was a swirling pink card with two pretty swans outlined by a heart, with two tiny kissing cupids at the top. The two of hearts.
The True Love card.
Her heart did a little flip, but she ignored it. Instead she glared at the card in her hand. Talk about adding insult to injury. Even her tarot cards were mocking her.
So where was this True Love supposed to pop up? Between her and…
“Hello?” the cute cop interrupted. “If you’re done playing cards, I need to talk to you.”
Him? She gulped. Those beautiful blue eyes were staring at her, burning more steadily than all eleven candles. Her heart started to thump, beating to the most bizarre rhythm. True love. True love. True love. She felt all tingly, and her face was flushed with heat. What was wrong with her?
It was probably just the effect of too many aromatic candles, infecting her brain. Or maybe she’d hit her head harder than she realized. There was no romantic glow here at all. Just smoke and humidity.
She fanned herself with the two of hearts, using her other hand to pluck the neckline of her damp leotard away from her skin. Anything to generate some air. Cool down, chill out, she told herself. But she didn’t feel remotely cool or chilly.
Especially when his gaze seemed to catch and hold there on her chest. His eyes widened. She swallowed, surreptitiously casting a quick look down to see what he was staring at. Overheated Zoë. Wet leotard. Breasts that might as well have been bare in that thin, moist top, her nipples peaking against the slippery, wet fabric.
Uh-oh. She dropped the True Love card like a shot, kicking it out of the way as she quickly wrapped her arms over her front and turned away.
She was not, as it happened, all that shy about her body. She was used to leading her dance class in a skimpy leotard all the time. But this felt different. It felt like…dancing naked in front of a complete stranger. Even worse, it felt like dancing naked, totally on purpose and with one seductive reason, in front of your lover.
She couldn’t handle it. Pulling her top out in front, hoping she looked nonchalant, she unstuck it and flapped it harder, trying to dry herself off. But when she hazarded a glance back around at him, his gaze met hers, blazing like a beacon, and it was like, Pow! Kazam! Major meltdown happening here!
What the…?
Sometimes she had feelings about people, or even a little intuition, but nothing as overwhelming and hot as this. She didn’t just get an aura from him. No, this was like a laser beam, searing her all the way to the soul. I know him, she thought, shocked at the very idea. I know him!
He blinked, looking just as surprised as she was. Jake. One minute she had no idea who he was, and the next his name was right there in her brain, clear as day. His name was Jake. How did she know that?
Zoë took a step backward. This couldn’t be happening. One tarot card did not a lover make. And yet there was some kind of cosmic attraction going on here, and they both knew it.
She wasn’t used to this instant-electricity thing. She wasn’t used to looking at a guy for five minutes, thinking about laser beams and naked dancing, and totally wanting to jump him.
She was coming undone.
“Oh, dear! Well, I, uh…” She put a hand to her forehead, attempting to find something else in the room that needed her attention. But there wasn’t anything there. “The candles…it’s so hot in here. Maybe it’s the candles.”
Behind her, he cleared his throat. “You really should blow those out,” he said stiffly. “They’re a fire hazard.”
As she moved to blow out the nearest two, she stopped, glancing at him over her shoulder, her gaze skittering away again. She tried to make a joke, anything to puncture this bizarre mood. “So tell me, did you come here to bust me for excess candle burning?”
“No, actually, I came because…” He stopped. Sounding even more unsettled than she felt, he continued, “I’m looking for Zoë Kidd. Is that you?”
“Yes. But I didn’t…” She was planning on saying she didn’t have any reason to need a police officer when it hit her.
If there was a cop looking for her, there could only be one reason. Her shoulders slumped. Wylie. He’d probably run up a few too many parking tickets again. The very thought of Wylie was like a pitcher of cold water poured over her head.
Wylie equaled bad taste in men. Wylie equaled terrible judgment. Wylie equaled defeat.
After quickly dousing the remaining candles, Zoë went back to pick up the rest of her tarot cards, trying hard to ignore Mr. Cute Cop. She made a point of retrieving the two of hearts and jamming it back into the middle of the pack before she stacked the whole deck neatly on the bookshelf. “If this is about Wylie, I broke up with him almost a month ago. Any trouble he’s in is his problem, not mine. So if he said I would bail him—”
“No, it has nothing to do with him. I need you.”
Yeah, well, I need you, too, Jake. I dumped my boyfriend. I’m lonely. I’m bored. And you are one good-looking man.
Looking over at him, trying to make herself behave, she still felt that incredible heat. She still felt like stripping naked and leaping into his arms. She licked her bottom lip. I need you for a few good rolls on my sticky mat…
“What did you say?”
“Me? Nothing. Not a thing.” What, could he hear her thoughts now? His name suddenly popped into her head as if it always been there and now he could mind-read? This was getting spooky. She stuck a stray tendril of her hair back into the braids wrapped over the top of her head. “And what did you need with me?”
“Okay. Right. Let’s just…cut to the chase.”
He clenched his jaw, and she thought, Wow, that is one nice jaw. Do you think he would care if I touched it? before she regained the use of her brain and paid attention to his words again. Concentrate, Zoë. Concentrate. Why was it so incredibly hot in this room?
“You booked a place on the Explorer’s Journey, right?”
Zoë blinked. “You’re here because of the Explorer’s Journey?”
“The travel agency said the roster is full,” he explained. “I want to buy your spot.”
“You want to…?” He didn’t seem like the type. At all. But then she got the picture. Talk about your pitcher of cold water.
Zoë was not a stupid woman. She saw the handwriting on the wall. Mr. Cute Cop obviously had a Mrs. Cute Cop stashed at home, and the two of them wanted to go on the Explorer’s Journey. Newlyweds only, after all. Newlyweds who wanted to work on their communication skills, both in and out of bed. Given Mr. Cute Cop’s rather terse communication skills, as well as the heat emanating from his hard body, she could see why Mrs. Cute Cop would feel the need to take him on that particular trip.
“So you’ll sell me your ticket?” he asked.
“Sure,” she declared, trying to work up some enthusiasm.
Shaking her head, she rose from the floor, crossing to the desk where she’d stuck the travel packet. How silly was she? She’d gone from entertaining the mad notion that he was her karmic one-and-only True Love to figuring out he was someone else’s new husband, all in three seconds. So much for her psychic visions. She knew his name. How come she didn’t get the married part?
She glanced up. Funny, he wasn’t wearing a ring. And she did not get a married vibe from him at all, especially when you factored in his eyes being fastened to a variety of her body parts ever since he got here. Yes, he was a guy and guys did that kind of thing. But he just didn’t seem the type to be newly married and looking around, and she usually trusted her intuition when it came to guy matters.
Zoë considered this mystery for several seconds, before deciding there wasn’t anything she could do about it, and it was just too aggravating to contemplate. If he, his wife and his wandering eyes wanted to throw themselves into a newlywed encounter group, that was their business.
Wagging the Explorer’s Journey folio at him, she plastered on a wide, chipper smile. “This sucker was expensive and I’ll be glad to get it off my hands. But you do know it leaves first thing in the morning, right? Do you and your wife have time to pack?”
“I’m not married,” he said quickly.
She knew it! There was totally an unmarried aura just hovering all around him. She was thrilled for a second, realizing that her instincts had been right. But then she had another depressing thought.
“Oh.” Zoë crossed her arms over her chest. “So you’re taking your girlfriend. I thought you could only do the program if you were married. Although now that I think about it, doing it before you get married sounds like a much better idea. Or are you planning to just lie and tell them you’re married? Not that it matters to me.”
Slowly he asked her, “Why would I need to be married?”
“Because…” That gave her pause. He wanted to go on the Explorer’s Journey and he didn’t know? She narrowed her eyes. Feeling very shrewd, she inquired, “You don’t know what the Explorer’s Journey is, do you?”
He just looked at her for a long moment.
“You don’t!” she exclaimed. “I can tell you don’t.” Now this was getting interesting. Zoë advanced on him, her eyes wide with curiosity. “Why do you want to go if you don’t know what it is? Is your girlfriend making you go?”
“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he said reluctantly.
Yes! Zoë felt like doing happy dances. She refrained. But she felt the triumph in her heart. She wasn’t wrong about him! Single, single, single!
But if it wasn’t for a relationship, then why did he want to go? “Is it for work? You have to go for like, official police reasons?”
“No.” Other than that, he kept his mouth shut. His lips looked even more intriguing pressed together like that.
Zoë was nothing if not persistent when it came to mysteries and puzzles. She drew a little closer. “You don’t think I’m going to hand over my tickets unless you tell me why you need to go, do you?”
“I’m not at liberty to discuss this with you,” he said tersely. “And you said tickets, plural. I only need one.”
“Well, you certainly can’t go by yourself.” All by his lonesome? Mr. Cute Cop hadn’t done his homework, had he? She tapped the ticket packet against her chin.
“Why exactly is it a problem if I go by myself?” he asked. He was starting to sound a little testy. “What were you talking about before, about having to be married, or taking a girlfriend? What is this all about? What kind of exploration are we talking? North Pole? Mount Saint Helen’s? What?”
“Forgive me,” she said thoughtfully, looking him up and down, “but you don’t seem like the explorer type.”
“Neither do you.”
She shrugged, not at all concerned. “Are you going to tell me why you want to go? Or am I going to hold on to my tickets and my explanation of just what exactly the Explorer’s Journey is?”
Finally he muttered, “It’s none of your business, but the truth is… I have to find someone. I have reason to believe she’ll be on this tour.”
“She? So you have to find a woman.” Zoë was very close now, looking right up into his face, and she found this all fascinating. Her mind was working a mile a minute, considering possibilities. Not married. No girlfriend. Dying to go on the Explorer’s Journey to find a particular woman. “Is she your ex-girlfriend or something? She dumped you, hooked up with some other guy, got married, and now she’s going on the Explorer’s Journey with him. And you want to follow her. Why? Are you stalking her? Maybe you think you can get her away from the other guy? Or are you just torturing yourself?”
“You’re giving me a headache,” he said between clenched teeth.
“Oh, c’mon.” She jiggled his elbow. “Stalker? Win her back? Torment yourself?”
“None of the above. And why do you care?” he asked darkly. “I need to find her. She may be on this tour. That’s it.”
“Well, you can’t go by yourself.”
“Why not?” he snapped.
Zoë beamed up at him. “Because…if you must know…” She let her voice trail off. She was kind of enjoying letting him dangle now that she knew he was single. He was so very cute and his impatience only made him cuter somehow.
“Yes?” he prompted.
“Okay, okay. I guess you don’t watch Oprah, do you? Because the Explorer’s Journey has been all over Oprah. How to describe it?” She bit her lip. “Hmmm… I guess the closest I can come is to say it’s a kind of a combination of group therapy and a honeymoon.”
His eyebrows arched. “Group therapy? Honeymoon?”
Taking in his expression, she said slyly, “That’s right. And let me tell you, Jake, I can’t see you enjoying either all by yourself.”
He recovered quickly. “Yeah, but…somebody must go solo on this thing.” He sent her a quick glance. “People break up all the time. But, hey, they already paid the money, so why shouldn’t one of them go ahead and take the vacation? Like you. You broke up with your boyfriend, right? A few weeks ago.”
“He was my fiancé. Ex-fiancé. And that’s why I wanted to cancel my tickets. I sure wasn’t planning to go without him.”
Pacing farther away, over near the bookcase, Zoë shook her head, hoping they could change the subject. She did not need to be thinking about her lamented love life right now. She picked up the deck of tarot cards again, absently shuffling them.
His eyes measured her. Gruffly, in a way that told her it had nothing to do with the Explorer’s Journey, he asked, “So when were you supposed to get married?”
“Well…today.”
“Oh.” He lifted his shoulders in a very small shrug. “Sorry. That’s a tough break.”
“Yeah.” Zoë kept her mouth shut. There was no way she wanted to discuss that at this moment. Just don’t be nice about it, will you, Jake? Don’t be nice to me. I don’t want to lose control and melt all over you. Turning back, she asked, “So, Jake, tell me, are you going on this tour or not?”
He started to nod, but stopped suddenly. “That’s the second time you’ve called me Jake. But I never told you my name.”
Uh-oh. She covered quickly. “You must have.”
