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“I’m not one hundred percent satisfied.”
Her smile slipped fractionally. “Excuse me?”
“My customer satisfaction is dependent on…” he paused and glanced at his bulky, utilitarian watch “…five minutes of your time.”
“Um…okay.” She studied him guardedly as she slipped behind her desk and slowly took her seat. Propping her fingertips together, she met and held his gaze. “What do you need five minutes for?”
Rubbing his palms against his jean-clad thighs, Luke thought rapidly. He had one shot and couldn’t blow it. “Well, we can start with Vegas.”
Her head shook slightly, just enough for that distracting curl to fall forward and catch in her lashes. “Not necessary, Luke, really, I—”
He unintentionally silenced her when he reached out and brushed the lock of hair from her face. “Necessary for me,” he countered, letting his hand fall away even though he wanted very much to trace his finger from her high cheekbone down the length of her throat. “My satisfaction level is slipping. Remember, I am the customer.”
“Technically, Carmen and her fiancé are the customers.”
“And Carmen loves me,” he said with a satisfied sigh. “She’d be really upset if I—”
Julia held up her hand. “I get the point. So, do you really want to rehash the whole Vegas mess?”
“I want to apologize. Wanted to for years. I really didn’t know about Esterhaus’s sideline. I never would have done business with him, let alone put you in a position where you could have been hurt.”
She nodded, her expression bland and guarded. “I believe you.”
“Then why’d you disappear?”
She shrugged and looked away. “Seeing those DEA agents rush inside that chapel, well, I guess it just reminded me that we didn’t really know anything about one another.” When she glanced back in his direction, her features seemed more relaxed. “C’mon, Luke, you’ve got to admit that getting married back then would have been a huge disaster.”
“I do admit that,” he agreed easily. “Upon reflection.” He paused when one dark brow arched at his word choice. “What, you don’t think a guy can reflect between beers?” he joked. “Anyway, after some thought, I knew that the DEA crashing our wedding was a blessing. We didn’t know enough about each other to make a marriage last.” But we could have learned, he thought.
“All’s well that ends well.”
“Great fortune cookie sentiment,” he teased, determined to go easy. “I’m just curious as to why you refused to take my calls. I felt like an ass, and wanted to apologize to you in person. I’m sorry it ended the way it did.”
“Esterhaus going to prison?”
“Forget Esterhaus. I’m talking about us. Why didn’t you return my calls, Julia?”
“What was I supposed to say?”
“Oh, ‘I accept your apology, Luke’ would have been a great start. At least then I wouldn’t have felt so guilty about dragging you into that mess.”
“You didn’t need to feel guilty,” she assured him.
“Of course I did. You were a sweet, naive young woman working her tail off at that Vegas restaurant. You deserved better than getting drawn into some big thing with a major drug trafficker.”
“You’re falling on your sword pretty hard, there,” Julia ribbed good-naturedly. “Your version of history makes me sound like I fell from a turnip truck onto the Vegas strip. I was young. I like to think I can be sweet. But I don’t ever remember being naive.”
“You were,” Luke insisted. “You were what? All of twenty-four?”
“You aren’t exactly ready for a retirement home,” she remarked. “It was Vegas, Luke. We had a week of fun and it just got out of hand. No need for long-term therapy as a result.”
“Good, then we can start over.”
He watched as she froze in mid-exhale. To her credit, Julia recovered quickly. “Start what over?”
Luke wagged his finger in the air between them. “Us. You and me. We can date.”
“No, I…I don’t think—”
“You said you didn’t hold me responsible for Esterhaus.”
“I don’t.”
“You seemed like you were having fun when we were together, so what’s the problem?”
She blinked. “We almost got married.” God, how often had she thought of that day? Wondered what it would have been like? If he was half the man she remembered and admired in her dreams.
“Almost being the operative word there. I like you, Julia.”
“You don’t know me.”
He smiled, hoping to put her at ease. “Hence the need for dating. See, we date, get to know one another. See what happens.” Discover if the heat between us will fizzle or sizzle.
“Nothing’s going to happen,” she insisted as she got to her feet. “Your five minutes will be up by the time we stop by Vicki’s desk to make your follow-up appointment.” Grabbing his shirtsleeve, she practically dragged him from the room. “Besides, I can’t date a client.”
“Technically, I’m not the client, remember?” he asked with a satisfied smile. He practically whistled as they walked down the marble steps to the desk, where a pretty redhead adeptly manned multiple telephone lines.
Julia hurriedly penciled him in for the following week, two days shy of the wedding. He liked seeing her flustered. It was the only peek he got into her closely guarded thoughts. “I’ll see you next week.”
“Not good enough,” he responded. Even though he’d kept his voice low, his remark perked the receptionist right up. She practically crawled up on the desk in order to listen in on the conversation.
Julia’s eyes darted around the room. Her jaw clenched behind a stiff smile. “It will have to be good enough, Luke. The matter is closed.” She turned, spine regally straight, and took two steps toward the stairs.
“Julia, I can’t let you walk away.”
She turned, her eyes blazing smoky fire. “Excuse me?”
“You’re blocking me.”
“What?”
He pointed in the direction of the stone courtyard and the driveway beyond. “Your Jeep, right?”
She nodded.
“You’re blocking my SUV.”
She looked pretty pissed as she marched over, grabbed her keys from her soggy purse and went out the door. “I should have known you were the inconsiderate person who parked in front of the garage,” she muttered as she stomped along the stones.
“I didn’t make it rain on you, Julia,” he said as he fell into step beside her. “It isn’t like there’s a No Parking sign, either.”
“It’s a driveway,” she grumbled. “Luke, you need to st— Get down!”
He wasn’t sure what surprised him the most, her strength or what precipitated it.
Julia lunged at him, her shoulder catching him just beneath the rib cage, forcing the breath from his lungs as she toppled him onto the hard ground. His head bounced once against the pavement, sending strobes of bright white specks into his field of vision.
At first he thought the crack he’d heard was the sound of his skull fracturing. Then he pieced the sound together with the acrid smell of gunpowder and realized what had happened. What was still happening.
He rolled, covering Julia’s body with his own as three more shots ricocheted off the stucco, showering them with a stinging spray of cement.
Chapter Three
Using a knowledge of basic physics coupled with years of martial arts training, Julia used her legs for leverage and managed to switch places with Luke. With her heart in her throat, and wishing she wasn’t lying here protecting a civilian when she should be up and at them, weapon drawn, she cradled his face tightly to her chest. The squeal of tires faded as a vehicle sped away.
Rearing back, she gently ran her hands along his head and scalp. Her fingers came away bloody. “You’re hit,” she choked out, anger overlaying the guilt that had started diluting her instincts. “Stay still and—”
“Not shot, hit.” Luke replaced her probing fingers with his own. “I hit my head.” He winced, gingerly feeling for the wound. “What about you?” He scanned her face and body for injury.
Other than coworkers and the Boteros—assuming she could think of some way to rationalize a gunshot— Julia had never had anyone give a damn one way or the other if she was plugged full of holes or not. But she’d think about it and analyze the warm fuzzy feeling later. Right now she was responsible for Luke’s injury.
Head wounds bled. A lot. She knew that. Didn’t mean she liked knowing the blood belonged to Luke. She was trained for this. He wasn’t. “I’m fine,” she told him absently, glancing down the street the way the vehicle had peeled rubber. Gone, of course.
“And fast,” he remarked, bringing Julia’s attention back to him. His gaze wandered over every inch of her until his jaw relaxed and his frown of concern eased from between his brows. “You flattened me. Then you flipped me like a pancake. You’re a lady of many talents. How’d you do that?”
“Self-defense classes,” she muttered, then ripped a strip of fabric from her skirt and pressed it against his injury. There was a good amount of blood, but that was pretty standard with a head wound. Shallow but showy. By the time she and Luke untangled themselves from each other, Rafe Montoya and Jeff Walsh were racing from Weddings Your Way, guns poised.
It was going to be hard to lie her way out of this one. And not just for the obvious reasons. This was getting really complicated, really fast.
“Everyone okay?” Montoya asked as he held out a large hand to help her up.
Luke ignored Walsh’s offered hand as he rose to his feet. “Let’s go back inside. I’d like to make sure that you’re really not hurt. That was a damn hard fall you took.”
Julia gave him a small smile. “I’m fine. I have a hard head.”
Who’d been in the car? Who was the shooter? Obviously someone who wanted her dead. Did it have anything to do with her trip to Sonya’s? Geez. She needed to make a list of her enemies. That would take awhile.
“Not as hard as the sidewalk,” Luke said firmly, holding her arm as if he thought she’d faint at any second. Faint or run, Julia mused, feeling another spurt of guilt.
She’d been stunned speechless when Luke had apologized for the wedding fiasco six years ago. Stunned but not about to tell him the real reason she’d run, nor why she’d refused to answer his calls. She would absolve him of his guilt, and keep her own guilt close to her chest. Better for both of them. Especially since things weren’t going to change.
His fingers felt warm on her skin. She’d like nothing more right now than to have a moment to lean into him and absorb his solid warmth. His strength. But that wasn’t who she was.
Luke lifted her chin with his hand. “It’s either me checking you out or a trip to the ER. Your choice.”
Who knows what she would have done if at that very moment, Rachel hadn’t appeared. Calmly assuming control as only Rachel could. It was one of the many talents Julia admired in her boss. “Gentlemen, please help Mr. Young into the salon. I’ve already called the police and the paramedics. Julia, come with me. We’ll find something more suitable for you to wear.”
Julia glanced down and silently thanked the panty gods for not letting her put on a thong that morning. The shredded hunk of fabric she’d yanked off to tend Luke had created a rather indecent slit in the front of her skirt.
“Hang on,” Luke said gruffly, stubbornly refusing to be corralled by Rafe and Jeff. “What the hell happened back there?”
“Drive-by,” Rafe easily supplied. “Happens even in the good parts of town these days.”
“And dogs dance,” Luke responded, in no way mollified. “Wasn’t there a kidnapping here a couple of weeks ago?” His voice grew louder with each word. “What kind of place are you people running that you need bodyguards?”
“Remember,” Julia began on a rush of breath. “There was a kidnapping here. We have a pretty high-profile clientele, so we’re overly cautious.”
Julia watched as Rachel mouthed the instructions “Fix this” to Rafe before she hurried Julia into the building. The two women went upstairs, then through the expertly hidden doorway to the secret offices of Miami Confidential.
Clare, Nicole and Samantha were already seated at the long, oval conference table. Laptops whirled to life as Julia went to the closet, pulled out a pair of jeans and used the partially closed door as a privacy screen while she changed.
Rachel was already barking orders to burn copies of the exterior surveillance tapes on to disks before they turned the originals over to the local authorities. “We have to appear to be cooperating fully,” Rachel reiterated. “We’ll have a hard time making headway on the Botero kidnapping if this place is crawling with Miami PD.
“Now give me a damage assessment on the guy you were with,” she said, her cool blue eyes trained on Julia.
“In for a fitting for the Lopez-Mitchell wedding. He doesn’t have any connection to the kidnapping. Just a matter of wrong place, wrong time.”
“You’re forgetting wrong man,” Rachel added. “Time’s a-wasting, Julia. I want to know what you know before the police get here.”
“Luke Young, thirty-five,” Julia told her boss as she tucked in her shirt. Why was she feeling so protective of him? “Owns a commercial construction firm here in Miami. Carmen Lopez is his foster sister. Other than that, I don’t know much.”
One of Rachel’s dark brows arched impatiently. She obviously expected every atom of truth.
Julia couldn’t tell her everything. Hell, most of the time she could barely admit it to herself. “Well, except that I left him standing at the altar six years ago.”
“Kind of an important detail.” Rachel scowled.
Samantha, Nicole and Clare sat silently, content to be spectators. Eight small screens, stacked in two neat rows of four, lined one portion of the wall. From her vantage point, Julia could see every inch of Weddings Your Way. She also had views of the exterior. The pool and long wooden dock jutting out into Biscayne Bay were deserted.
The street, driveway and courtyard were another matter. An ambulance came to an abrupt halt just behind Julia’s Jeep. Four blue-and-white squad cars positioned themselves on either side of the ambulance. The wail of sirens cut through the stucco walls as red and blue lights spun a bright kaleidoscope of color.
“You’re hurt,” Rachel said.
Julia looked down at her own body, confused. “No, I’m—”
“Hurt. I want you in that ambulance with Mr. Young. I want to know every word he says and who he says it to. I want to know everything right down to the number of gauze pads they use to clean his wound.”
“Rachel, the cops are going to want a statement from me,” Julia countered.
“And you’ll give them one just as soon as you have your injuries assessed at the hospital. Samantha, I want to know everything there is to know about Mr. Young. I want proof positive that there is no connection between him and the Botero family or Juan DeLeon.” Rachel waved her hand, indicating that they should all return to the public side of the building. As she walked ahead, she continued to issue assignments. “As soon as the cops leave, I want our forensics run on any evidence. I’ll call my contact at the state crime lab.
“Okay, ladies, let’s make this quick and painless. Except for you, Julia. You need to be hurting.”
“Got it.”
A few minutes later, Julia was rubbing her side and commenting on a phantom pain in her ribs. She was careful not to ham it up too much, but she knew slipping in a small complaint about painful breathing was a guaranteed ticket into the ambulance.
Strenuous workouts made it pretty easy for her to keep her respirations shallow. The plan was sound except for Luke’s reaction to her “injuries.”
