Dangerous Disguise Page 6

  “Sometimes. When I’m alone.” Because she felt a little foolish, she redirected the emphasis on the conversation. “I’m doing the inventory.”

  He nodded toward the list in her hand. “You know, they have computer software that probably does that in half the time.”

  “I know, but there are times I like the feel of a pen and paper in my hand.” The smile on her lips was just a little disparaging. “I guess I just like the hands-on approach.”

  So did he, Jared thought, but right now, the phrase was taking on a whole different meaning for him.

  Chapter 5

  It took him a moment to get his thoughts under control. “So, do you want any help?”

  She didn’t exactly welcome his offer with open arms. She wasn’t cold, but the natural warmth he’d seen was in abeyance.

  “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” The suggestion to get lost was barely veiled.

  Jared shook his head slowly, as if giving the matter some thought. This was the only place he was supposed to be, until the case either broke or was disproved.

  “Can’t think of any place.” But he knew better than to push. “I’ll go if I make you feel uncomfortable.” He began to leave, then turned to look at her. “Although I don’t think you should be here alone.”

  She didn’t want him thinking that she reacted to him one way or another, even though having him around made her feel restless. As if she was waiting for something to happen.

  “You don’t make me feel uncomfortable.” She raised her chin. “And I can take care of myself.” Liar. You certainly made a mess of your life by hooking up with Kirk. That’s not taking care of yourself.

  He pointed out the obvious. “I caught you by surprise.”

  “All right, you want to help? Help,” she ordered, opening up the gate that led into the storeroom. He walked in. Swaggered in was more like it, Maren thought. The man moved as if he owned the place, not like he was anyone’s assistant.

  Maren scanned the list she was holding to see what was next. “All right, tell me how many cans of pears we have.”

  Clicking his heels together, he gave her a two-finger salute, then turned toward the shelves to get an answer for her. All around them, there were rows upon rows of shelves, all stocked with different items.

  At first glance, he felt overwhelmed. “Um, Maren?”

  She stiffened at the familiarity. “I’d rather you called me Ms. Minnesota.”

  Standing in front of shelves teemed with umpteen cans, he glanced at her over his shoulder. “It’s a mouthful,” he told her smoothly. “By the time I get it out, whatever I’m talking about might be over.” He turned to face her, his right hand up, its fingers ready to be counted off. “Ms.-Min-ne-so-ta. That’s five whole syllables. Mar-en has only two.”

  She wasn’t amused. “I know how many syllables my name has—”

  She was irritated, so he diverted her. “What kind of name is Minnesota anyway?”

  “A long one, as you’ve pointed out.”

  He was doing his best to come across genially. Trying to get on her good side. “Besides that.”

  Unwilling to get personal, she hedged her answer. “It’s Native American.”

  Jared cocked his head, studying her. The light in the storeroom was typical of a basement area. Dim. Silhouetted against it, she looked even more sensual that usual. Maren Minnesota had the high cheekbones, but nothing else about her suggested that her heritage might have derived from the original inhabitants of the country.

  “Are you—”

  She stopped him before he could get started again. “No.”

  Jared raised his eyebrows, waiting to be filled in. “Then…?”

  She blew out a breath. Definitely a mistake to let him stay. But if she was busy being annoyed at the intrusive questions, she couldn’t think about the other, so in a way, it hadn’t been a mistake. Her head ached. Her heart felt ten times worse. “Papa Joe gave it to me because that’s where he found me. In Minnesota. Satisfied?”

  No, he thought, but he was getting there. Slowly. He made the logical assumption her words dictated. “Then he’s not your father?”

  “Yes, he is.” Her voice was quiet, firm. Immovable. Before he could ask another question, she said simply, “It takes more than biology to make a father.” She suppressed an impatient frown. “You know, for someone who just offered to help me with the inventory, you’re asking a lot of questions.”

  He knew when to retreat and when to move forward. He didn’t want to scare her away or to make her suspicious. But he was definitely making her uneasy. Was it because she didn’t like to open herself up to strangers, or was it because she had something to hide?

  For now, he took a step back. Raising his hand like a student, he looked down into her eyes, then decided maybe that was a mistake. She had eyes that entire galleons could get lost in.

  “Could I ask just one more?”

  Her eyes narrowed. She thought about the old adage about giving an inch and losing a mile. “Such as?”

  He turned back toward the shelves, his voice the soul of innocence. “Where do you keep the pears?”

  For a moment there was nothing but silence. And then the stillness was broken by the sound of her laughter. She dropped the list on top of the boxes of sugar. “Maybe I should give you a tour first. Didn’t Max go over this with you?”

  The main chef concerned himself with making sure his domain remained unchanged. That and putting moves on Kelly, one of the two hostesses. “He just came to the edge of the stairs, pointed down and said, ‘The main storeroom’s downstairs.’”

  She sighed. “That sounds like Max. Okay, this is where we keep the cans of fruit.” She pointed out the huge stacks on the shelves, arranged not by size but rather alphabetically. “Here are the vegetables, the additives…”

  She continued until she’d shown him everything. The storeroom stretched out for more than half the length of the actual restaurant. He’d had no idea it was that huge.

  Maren turned to him once she was finished. “Okay, got that?”

  “Got it.” There was a sense of order here. If he’d been in charge, everything would have been piled up haphazardly. “Nice system. Your idea?”

  She inclined her head, brushing away the compliment. “It’s simple.” She raised her eyes to his. “I like to keep things simple.”

  She was putting him on notice, he thought. Jared took a step back from her, silently letting her know that he was giving her space. The air felt rather thick down here, as if it had sunk down. Outside, winter was crisply stirring the surroundings. Down here, each breath felt as if it was just a shade heavy. Right now, he was aware that inhaling and exhaling was harder than it should have been.

  “Understood,” he told her. He opened a couple of buttons on his shirt, noting that she looked a little wilted herself. “Maybe you should install a fan down here. It’s rather hot.”

  That wasn’t always the case. But it did feel hotter now than it should. “The cooling system keeps malfunctioning. You’d think with all the money we’re pulling in, Warren could spare some for repairs.”

  “Warren?” Was she on a first-name basis with the owner because of the time she’d put in, or was there another, far more personal reason? He pulled his thoughts back. That only made a difference if it affected his investigation, he told himself.

  Just the tiniest bit flustered, Maren corrected herself. “Mr. Shepherd.”

  “Maybe you should ask him the next time you see him.”

  “I already have.”

  The frown was small, but it was there. If she were involved with the man, wouldn’t there have been more loyalty evident on her part? He decided that there would have been. The thought buoyed him. Jared tried not to analyze why.

  “It’s like pulling teeth,” she finally told him.

  “Takes money to make money.”

  “Well, that’s a new one,” she quipped sarcastically.

  He shrugged innocently. “You
said you liked things simple, remember?” And right now, the things he kept feeling were far from being classified as simple. “That’s something my grandfather used to say.”

  “Oh, really?” He watched in fascination as a smile quirked at the corners of her mouth.

  One of the reasons he did so well under cover was that he could think on his feet and be creative if the moment called for it.

  “He liked to think of himself as an entrepreneur-in-waiting.” His maternal grandfather had died before he’d been born. His father’s father had been a patrolman with thirty years on the force.

  For a moment the sadness he’d seen in her eyes abated. “What was he waiting for?” she asked.

  “Money.”

  The laugh was short, terse, but it was there. “You made that up.”

  “Maybe,” he allowed, then got to the heart of his triumph. “Got you to smile.”

  Yes, he did, she thought, but smiling was not part of what she was supposed to be doing. “I’m not down here to smile, Stevens. I’m down here to do the inventory.”

  Using the last name he’d given her just made him that much more aware of the deception he was perpetrating. “Think you can call me by my first name instead?”

  “So that you can call me Maren?”

  “No, because I like the sound of it better, coming from you, but a trade-off might be nice.”

  It was time they got back to work. Maren picked up the inventory list again and looked at the last thing she’d checked off. “Pears, Stevens. How many?”

  With a nod of his head, he turned toward the stacks and began to count.

  Because she read and he counted, it went more quickly. Just as he’d predicted. They even did a quick inventory of things that were in the large walk-in refrigerator. He noted that the lock looked defective. She’d responded that she had it on the list of things to fix that she’d given to Shepherd for his okay. It was evident to Jared that she didn’t like being placed in the position of having to wait for approval.

  Forty minutes later, the entire inventory for the month was done, along with the automatic list of things she needed to restock.

  “Thanks for helping.” Maren flipped off the light after locking the door to the room. She turned on her heel and walked toward the stairs.

  “Don’t mention it,” he murmured as he followed her up.

  With nowhere else to look in the narrow area, Jared was almost forced to watch every step she took. Forced to watch the way her hips swayed just the smallest fraction of an inch either way as she took each step.

  The rhythm reeled him in, warming his blood. Triggering things inside him that had nothing to do with investigations or money laundering allegations. He caught himself really wishing that she wasn’t one of the people in the case he was working.

  Had they met on the outside, she was definitely the kind of woman who would make him look twice. And cause his mouth to water.

  Walking out into the kitchen, he waited for her to lock the door to the basement. The woman had put in a fifteen-hour-plus day and he could still catch a whiff of her perfume. His sister had complained that scents faded after an hour or so, no matter how expensive it was. Why couldn’t hers fade?

  He knew it was important to keep his personal distance. But at times, it was hard to separate the cop from the man.

  Grabbing his jacket, he followed her to her office. She put the inventory on her desk. He squashed the desire to take her into his arms and kiss her. Or thought he did. “You going home?”

  He was leaning indolently against the doorjamb. Looking too sexy for her own damn good. “It’s after eleven,” she snapped. “I have to be here by eight. Where else would I go?”

  He moved his shoulders in a half shrug. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe for a walk on the beach.”

  She frowned at the suggestion. Only because she found it so romantic. “It’s winter.”

  “The beach is still there.” He took a step into the office. His eyes coaxed her even as she tried to resist. “And we’d probably have it all to ourselves.”

  “Sorry, not in the market for a beach.” She looked at him pointedly.

  His easygoing smile managed to work its way under her skin even though she was trying to be vigilant. “I’m not thinking of buying it, just walking on it,” he countered.

  She took her purse out of the drawer and then locked it again, slipping the key into her pocket. “No one’s stopping you.”

  He took a step closer to her. Took away some of the oxygen around her. His eyes seemed to pin her down. “What are you afraid of, Ms. Minnesota?”

  She bristled at the implication. That she was afraid of him. He posed no threat. It was her own vulnerability, especially tonight, that was the threat. “I’m not afraid, I’m tired.”

  He coaxed, just the slightest bit. “More to life than just work. All those stars out, they might just invigorate you.”

  “I have to get to bed.” Realizing the opening she’d given him, she added firmly, “Alone.”

  Jared inclined his head, a well-meaning employee, playing along. “A short walk, then.”

  “Don’t you ever give up?”

  “Not easily,” he told her.

  She wanted to say no, but there were nights when she didn’t like being alone. Nights when she felt so lonely, she ached. Those were the nights she usually went to see Papa Joe. But it was late and she didn’t want to bother him. Didn’t want to see the concern in his eyes. She hated worrying him.

  But she didn’t want to go home and fall asleep with the television set on the way she did when things from the past haunted her. The way they did tonight. She felt something welling up in her throat and bit on her lower lip. She wasn’t going to think about it. Wasn’t going to cry. Especially not in front of Jared. Verbally sparring with him kept her from dwelling on the pain.

  Maren took her coat from the rack in the office and began to slip it on. Jared moved behind her and helped her put it on.

  Pulling her hair from out of the coat, she turned to face him.

  “All right,” she relented. “A short one.”

  “Five steps, ten, more, your choice.” He grinned as he held open the front door for her.

  Jared waited as she locked up and pressed in the security code. Her back was to him, as if to block out his view of her fingers. He wondered what she’d say if she knew that he already knew the code.

  When she turned from the door, he held out his hand for hers. “Ready?”

  Pulling the collar up around her, Maren ignored his hand and began to walk around to the rear of the building. Beyond the spacious parking lot in the back, an empty beach stood waiting, separated by only a knee-high distressed brick wall. Jared swung his legs over with ease, then helped her.

  The moon was out, bleaching the sands until they appeared almost white. Stars dusted the otherwise black sky. It was a night made for lovers. Too bad he was working, Jared thought.

  She grudgingly took his hand and stepped over the wall. He glanced down at her footwear. She wore heels that were at least three inches high, if not more.

  “You might want to take those off,” he said.

  Maren looked reluctant, then gave in. He stood still as she held on to his shoulder with one hand, slipping the shoes off with the other. When he reached to take them from her, she held the shoes to her. He laughed, dropping his hand. Jared began to walk. “I wasn’t going to steal them.”

  She fell into step beside him. The sand was cool against her feet rather than cold the way she’d expected. “I prefer handling my own things.”

  He slanted a look at her face, then went on looking out into the blurred distance. They were the only two people on the beach. “How long have you been this distrusting? Or is it just me you don’t trust?”

  “I’m not distrusting.” The defensive tone was back in her voice. “I just like carrying my own load.”

  “Shoes are hardly a load.” Moving one step ahead of her, he looked back to peer at her face
as they walked. “It is me, isn’t it?”

  She didn’t answer him directly. Instead she stared straight ahead, trying to keep other thoughts from invading her mind. “You remind me of someone.”

  He knew very little about her. Only the things that could be pulled from school records. Her personal life had managed to exist under any radar he’d had available to him. “And he was a bastard?”

  His directness made her laugh despite herself. “Not at first.” Memories pushed their way through the cracks. “At first he was wonderful.”

  “So far, I can see the similarity,” he said.

  Amusement rose and she was secretly grateful for it. “He wasn’t quite as cocky as you, but then, he was younger.”

  “How much younger?” Pressing his opportunity, he tried to take advantage of the situation and to coax any information he could out of her.

  A heaviness pressed itself against her chest as she remembered. “We were in college together.”

  “And he broke your heart.”

  “And he broke my heart,” she whispered more to herself than to him. Memories began to overpower her, the bad swallowing up the precious good.

  How could anyone hurt someone like her? “You’re right. He was a bastard.”

  She wasn’t going to cry, she wasn’t. Thoughts of Kirk had long since stopped hurting. But thinking of him ushered in thoughts of Melissa, the baby who died from SIDS. Those thoughts, she knew, would never stop hurting.

  She shrugged. “He was a man.”

  He didn’t want her thinking that way. Shutting him out. Then again, he was the one lying to her about his life, and when she found out the truth, he would be dead to her.

  Still, he heard himself defending his ilk. “The two are not necessarily equivalent.”

  “Right.” She nodded her head. “I should have said a good-looking man.”

  He knew that, because he looked the way he did, the amount of effort he had to put forth to get around women was a great deal less than the average man had to expend. He’d never had it work against him before. “That’s much too narrow-minded for someone like you.”