another place to crash for the night. I should’ve turned off the porch light earlier.”
“No problem,” she said shakily. Her hand tingled from his touch, disturbing little sparks zipping up her arm. That tingling quickly moved to other places when she focused on his face and realized he’d just showered. His hair was wet, and the fresh hunter-green shirt he’d pulled on hung open, showing a tapering mat of chest hair. For a second her gaze followed that soft hairy trail downward where it disappeared behind the brass button on his jeans, then she jerked her attention back up to his face.
A heady awareness flowed between them, and in that moment of silent appraisal, Lindsay knew she shouldn’t have come. The earthy chemistry they’d never been able to ignore was revving up again, bumping her nerve endings. Giving her tightening stomach ideas. And the close, heavy humidity from his shower wasn’t helping.
She glanced away as he buttoned his shirt, taking in the generic decor, flickering television screen and the nautical prints on the walls.
“I hope you’re here to say you’ve changed your mind,” Ike said. There was a white towel slung over his shoulder. Taking it off, he tossed it on the back of the only chair in the room. The seat held his duffel bag, a bulging file folder and the black valise containing his laptop, one of the tools of the trade that was always at his fingertips.
On the rare occasions that he wasn’t chasing a bail jumper or doing legwork for a Portland private investigator, he was tracing skips online. He’d once joked that he could work naked from their bed. All he needed was a phone and an Internet connection.
“I’m not happy about it,” Lindsay replied, “but yes, I’ve changed my mind. You were right. If someone arranged for Ricky’s death, that person has to pay.”
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
