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She met his brown eyes and felt the old pull, the old magnetism, the overwhelming need to step into his arms. But those days were over. She cleared her throat. “None of this is going to be easy. My mother’s still bitter.”
“That was obvious when I saw her tonight.” Ike walked to the complimentary coffeemaker on the dresser and picked through the plastic container filled with tea bags and packets. “Actually, I’m amazed that she didn’t phone to let you know I was on my way.” He glanced back at her. “Or did she reach you?”
There wasn’t much point in telling him about the phone being off the hook. That wasn’t important now. “I spoke to her after you left.”
“Did you get her consent for the search?”
“No, but I asked her to dinner tomorrow night. I’ll bring it up then.”
“Lindsay, the longer we wait—”
“I can’t just drop this in her lap, Ike.”
He seemed to think about that for a moment, then replied soberly, “You’re right. Besides, she wouldn’t have been very receptive tonight.”
Or any night, Lindsay thought, feeling a stab of regret. Not if the night had anything to do with Ike. Once her mom had liked him—rather, she’d liked him as much as she liked anyone who came between her and her children, which wasn’t saying a lot. Since her dad’s fatal accident, her mother had become clinging and needy. Though Arlene Hollis had owned a successful seamstress business, she’d never worked outside their home, so she’d never cultivated a lot of friends. Her life had always revolved around her family. Now their numbers had shrunk to two, and with Ricky’s passing, the survivor’s guilt he’d carried had landed squarely on Lindsay’s shoulders.
Meeting her gaze again, Ike picked up the carafe and nodded toward the two beds. “Have a seat. I was about to make coffee. Housekeeping left two cups.”
Not a chance. Not the way her nerve endings vibrated every time the air shifted. She wouldn’t drink his coffee and she wouldn’t sit on either of his beds. Just looking at them in the lamplight brought back images of other rooms, other beds. And sitting was only one bad choice away from lying down.
She was about to refuse when his cell phone rang.
With a muttered, “Just a second,” Ike picked it off the nightstand, checked the caller ID window, then frowned and turned away. “Hi Brandy, how’s it going?”
Lindsay heard Brandy Maitlin’s loud, laughing reply over the low drone of the all-news channel and was instantly on edge. “It’s going, but it’s not going as smoothly without my number-one hunter. I need you, gorgeous.”
With a furtive glance at Lindsay, Ike inched his thumb up to a side key on his phone, then lowered the volume and ambled a few steps away before he continued. “Sorry, I’m not available right now. With everything else I’m juggling, I don’t have time.”
He listened for a while, then grinned and returned in an amused voice, “Nope, no matter how much sugar’s on the table. I’m up to my ears in skips and legwork for Larry, and I just picked up another project. Give Tank a call.”
A sudden rush of jealousy clicked in, and Lindsay walked to him, took the carafe from his hand, then stepped into his bathroom to fill it from the sink. Their past rose up to greet her again as she turned on the tap.
She hadn’t been around Brandy often, but during their flash-fire courtship and six-month marriage, she’d had several opportunities to see Brandy in action around Ike. The woman wanted him, and she wanted him badly. But there’d been no jealousy in Lindsay then because she’d known Ike loved her. She’d also known that Ike never saw Brandy as anything but the head of Maitlin Bail Bonds. At least, not then, she thought, feeling a pinch again. But eighteen months was a long time for a man like Ike to be without a woman…and beautiful Brandy with the dark, flashing eyes had teased that she “needed her gorgeous hunter.” Take away the playful tone and the words still worked.
Suddenly Lindsay was remembering the two months of arguments and accusations that had preceded their divorce…and wondering if Brandy had been there to soothe Ike’s anger and frustration.
Lindsay yanked herself back to the present as the water in the glass pot gushed over the sides and into the sink. Quickly, she turned off the spigot and poured out some of the water, then grabbed a clean hand towel from the rack to dry the carafe.
When she turned around, Ike was standing in the doorway.
Feeling a flush creep into her cheeks, she walked forward, forcing him to get out of her way. She dumped the packet of coffee he’d set aside into the coffeemaker, added water to the reservoir, then clicked on the unit and faced him.
“What did Brandy want?” Surprisingly, she didn’t feel a bit uncomfortable asking the question.
“She needed someone to go after a skip. I told her to call someone else—that I need time for another project.”
“Did you tell her what the project is?”
“Not yet.”
“But you will?”
“Probably. There are no secrets between us.”
“Are you sleeping with her?”
That brought the conversational volley to an abrupt halt. Beneath her calm tone and delivery, Lindsay’s stomach shook. As for Ike, she couldn’t read what was going on inside his head.
“And if I am?” he asked after a moment.
“If you are,” she said lifting her chin, “more power to you. She’s beautiful, and you’re both in the same business. I’m sure you never run out of fascinating things to talk about.”
A flash of annoyance tumbled through his gaze and his voice hardened. “Know what? Maybe we should have our coffee next door at the café. Millie’s open until eleven tonight. Summer hours.”
Lindsay shook her head. She didn’t need coffee. The images her mind was supplying were already burning a hole in her stomach. Images of Ike and his needy lady boss engaged in less-than-businesslike activities.
“No thanks,” she answered crisply, moving toward the door. “I’ve said what I came to say.”
“Some things never change, do they?” he challenged. “Whenever things get a little sticky between us, you run the other way. God forbid you should hang around and talk things out. Somewhere, your mother’s applauding.”
She turned around swiftly. “You know, I wondered how long it would be before you started in on her again.” She grabbed the doorknob. “I’m leaving.”
“Go ahead, you’re good at it.”
That stopped her dead. Eyes filling with tears, Lindsay faced him again. He’d gone too far. His troubled expression told her that he knew it, too.
“Look…” he said through a sigh. “Let’s just go over to the café and talk—get a piece of Millie’s coconut cream pie to go with the coffee.”
But coffee and dessert wouldn’t change anything. There was too much baggage and too many harsh words between them. They’d only end up arguing there, too, and Millie’s customers didn’t need a floor show. Halfway through their pie, Ike would remind her that she’d initiated divorce proceedings, she’d remind him that he’d said the D word first, and they would end up not speaking. That couldn’t happen. They had to work together now, for all of their sakes. “I can’t, Ike.”
“Why not?”
For some perverse reason, she wanted him to know that another man valued her. Maybe because he’d hinted that he and Brandy had a relationship, then left her twisting in the wind without confirming or denying it. But again, she couldn’t imagine him staying celibate for long, even though she had. When they were together, they’d been wild in bed. Wild and wonderful and happy and loving and…
“Because tongues wag at the slightest hint of impropriety in this town,” she replied before the memories could get to her again. “And I’m seeing someone now.”
He didn’t say a word, and she went on. “John’s the new owner of the bookstore—and whether it’s ten in the morning or ten at night, the rumor mills grind away. I don’t see any reason to make him uneasy.”
“Whatever.”
It wasn’t what she expected, and his cavalier reply hit hard.
Then he poured himself a cup of coffee, replaced the carafe and met her eyes again. “So do you want a cup here in Hernando’s Hideaway where no one can see you, or are you really taking off?”
She swallowed. “No, I need to go home and get some sleep. I work the early shift tomorrow.”
“Fine. Let me know what your mother says.”
“I will.”
Lindsay stepped into the cool night, relieved to get out of there, glad for the air on her face. Several doors down, a chattering family carried bags and suitcases into a room where the porch light was shining. A brand-new bunch of moths had homed in on it and were now fluttering helplessly, lured by the pretty glow, and powerless to move away.
She knew exactly how they felt.
“Good night, Ike.”
“’Night. Be careful walking home.”
“This is Spindrift,” she replied soberly. “Nothing bad ever happens around here.”
Lindsay heard the door close behind her. Then she crossed the parking lot and headed for the steep, shadowy walk leading toward the road, Ike’s casual “Whatever” hurting all over again.
So much for letting him know that she was moving on with her life. He hadn’t given a damn that she was seeing John Fielding.
He’d wanted to touch her, Ike thought twenty minutes later, grinding his molars as he let himself back inside his motel room. There, he’d admitted it. He dropped his cell phone and take-out bag on the dresser, along with a metal room key that pinged across the wooden surface.
He couldn’t have cared less if a few moths flew inside. He just wanted to touch her, link with her for a second to see if the old feeling was still there—that knock-the-breath-out-of-you feeling of getting whacked in the chest with a bowling ball.
It was. But he was through shoving his heart through a Cuisinart for her.
Carrying his food to the nearest bed, he kicked off his boots, plumped the pillows against the headboard, then settled back to fish out the first of three cheeseburgers that Millie Kraft had grilled for him. He knew it had killed her not to ask if his reappearance in town had anything to do with Lindsay. But he hadn’t volunteered any information and being the sweet old gal that she was, Millie had simply let the hope in her eyes show and kept mum.
Taking a bite, Ike snagged the remote control on the nightstand and flicked through the channels until he came to a movie he’d seen a few times—one that wouldn’t require much concentration. Lindsay had just about all the attention he was capable of focusing right now.
She was seeing someone. And he hadn’t even looked at another woman that way since they’d yelled their last goodbyes. Hadn’t even wanted to.
He took another bite, chewed awhile, decided it tasted like sand, and dropped the burger back in the bag. Nothing—not food, not coffee, not the movie on the tube—could wipe away the disturbing pictures cluttering his mind.
Getting up, he jammed his food into the tiny wastebasket, then grabbed his cell phone and punched in the number for Tank Exton’s fancy gym and spa outside of Portland. He needed to focus on the job—grill Tank about anything else the dead skip had said when he was taking him in. He needed to focus on Ricky Hollis’s hidden killer.
Not the beautiful woman who’d fallen in step behind his father and walked out of his life again.
The next morning at six-thirty, Lindsay squared her shoulders, drew a breath, then walked inside Krafty Millie’s Café. She knew Ike’s habits, and as she’d expected, he was having coffee at the counter, along with a few other early birds. He’d always liked diners and little eateries that served up home cooking and freshly baked pies. Five-star restaurants and French cuisine were way at the bottom of his priority list.
Smiling brightly, Millie Kraft waved from behind the cash register where she was handing change to a customer. “’Morning, Lindsay!” she called over the sporadic conversation and piped-in Sinatra. “What brings you in at the crack of dawn?”
Wonderful, Lindsay thought smiling back at the graying, curly-haired elf in the black-and-white uniform. Let him know right away that it’s unusual for her to be here at this hour. “Just getting an early start on the day,” she replied, intercepting a curious look from Ike.
Millie glanced at Ike, back at her, then grinned in delight. “Tea with lemon this morning, honey?”
“Yes, thanks.” She watched Ike’s gaze slip briefly over her navy slacks, white shirt and navy Windbreaker before meeting her eyes again. Then, nodding for him to join her, she took a seat in the red vinyl booth closest to the door.
Slowly, Ike dragged himself away from the counter, sidestepped a few tables and ambled across the black-and-white tile floor, his coffee cup in his hand. He was wearing jeans and boots again today, as well as the hunter-green shirt he’d donned after his shower last night. It was open at the throat, and his long sleeves were rolled back over his tanned, muscular forearms.
He folded his length into the seat across from her, but waited to speak until Millie had delivered her tea, sent the two of them a positively beaming look, then left. Lindsay had to smile inside. Millie was a hopeless romantic, and was probably counting the hours until she could ask her if a reconciliation was in the works. She’d be disappointed in Lindsay’s answer.
“Apparently, you’re no longer concerned about wagging tongues,” he drawled finally.
“Don’t be smug. I just need to know how to reach you in case my mother agrees.”
“You could’ve called my room at the motel for that information.”
“And you could have phoned me yesterday with your request instead of driving forty-five minutes out of your way.”
His face turned to stone. “That was a courtesy. I didn’t think you needed to hear lousy news on the telephone.”
Ike drank some coffee as he appraised her hairstyle over the rim of his cup. Then he set his mug on the table and dug his wallet from his hip pocket.
Lindsay waited for a comment. She’d twirled her hair into a soft bun and pulled a few tendrils loose around her face this morning—an easy style on a workday. But Ike had always preferred it down.
He didn’t mention her hair. Instead, he removed a business card from his wallet and handed it over. “Still working with Sam Cooper?” he asked.
“Five days a week.” She scanned the card. His home phone wasn’t listed for obvious reasons, but his business and cellular numbers were, and he was listed as an “associate” of Maitlin Bail Bonds, even though he free-lanced much of the time. She knew he’d never been a fan of business cards—felt they were unnecessary in his line of work. But Brandy had insisted that all of her hunters carry them—free advertising in case they ran into someone who needed a bail bondsman.
“Sam and Jennie still together?” Ike asked casually. She and Ike had had dinner and babysat for the Coopers on several occasions before the divorce. He’d liked them and their kids a lot.
Lindsay tucked his card into the pocket of her Windbreaker and nodded. “Some marriages work out.”
Ike met her eyes. “And some don’t.”
Like a happy little moth to a porch light, Millie came fluttering by with a coffeepot, still grinning and obviously hoping for a piece of good news. They’d camped out in her back booth in those short weeks before they’d decided to elope, talking, laughing, feeling the pull to touch, and trying to keep their hands to themselves. And Millie had taken it all in with grandmotherly glee.
“You folks want your drinks warmed up?”
Lindsay smiled up at her. “Thanks, Millie, but I have to leave soon.” Actually, she hadn’t even touched her tea. “Sam’ll think I deserted him.”
“Ike?” the proprietress asked hopefully.
“None for me, either. I have a full day ahead, too.”
Her smile turned to concern. “Chasing another bad guy?”
“The worst.”
“Then if you ask me, you need to get into another line of work,” she scolded. “You be careful.”
“I will, Millie. Thanks.”
When she’d gone again, Ike pulled a five from his wallet and laid it on the table.
Lindsay sent him a raised eyebrow. “Big tip.”
“No, two drinks and a tip.”
She shook her head. “Uh-uh.” Pushing to her feet, she took two singles from the pocket of her Windbreaker and dropped them on the table as Ike stood, too. “I pay my own way.
“Not when you’re with me.”
