“Why were you following me?”
“I don’t know.”
His brows lifted.
“Okay. Frankly, I was curious. Beyond that, I don’t have a clue. Honestly. I saw you pull out, and I just…followed. And now I’m lost because you were trying to lose me, and I was focused on staying with you instead of on where I was.”
“If I’d wanted to lose you, I would have,” he said blandly.
Of course. She should’ve known that. “You were playing a game with me?”
“I was seeing if you were following me. You were.” He leaned an arm against the top of her car. “The invitation holds, Mysterious.”
She glanced at the bar as another bike pulled up. A beefy man helped a woman climb off it. Both of them had tattoos down their arms and around their necks.
“Not here,” he said with a quick, contagious grin.
“I’ll bet that smile works, most of the time,” she said, relaxing. He hadn’t done anything to intimidate her, even if she’d felt intimidated at times. But that was her problem, not his.
“You intrigue me,” he said.
She did? She was so straightforward, usually, and so…unintriguing. Was it because she was keeping herself mysterious, and therefore, hard to get? Instead of telling him he was ridiculous, that she was the least intriguing person on earth, she smiled. “Then I should keep doing what I’m doing,” she said leisurely.
“Ah. It’s the chase that excites you.”
She started to flirt back, then realized she had no right to. What was she thinking? She gathered up her long-denied, flattered libido and adjusted her body language and tone of voice. “How do I get back to Market?”
He barely skipped a beat before giving her directions, then he took a step back. His smile disappeared.
“I’ll see you in a couple of days,” she said.
He nodded.
She felt awful as she pulled away, like a big tease, like a teenager without any life skills. She’d responded to him without thinking it through. She was sinking deeper into a situation she should be avoiding at all costs.
And she was afraid she wasn’t going to be able to stop.
Four
James’s usual way of doing business was to put together a binder containing copies of his research and phone log to give to the client as the investigation progressed. For purely selfish reasons, he did none of it for Kevin, deciding that the boy might just take the materials and run. Instead he would have to come in and stay awhile to hear the results of James’s initial inquiry. If nothing else, it would give them some time together. Maybe it wouldn’t only be about business.
It was Tuesday afternoon, three days since Kevin had appeared in his life. James had lived in a kind of fog, focusing enough to work, but easily distracted, not only because of Kevin but also Mysterious.
He wasn’t sure what to think of her. She’d followed him, flirted with him, then shut him down. Not a woman who knew her own mind at all. Unpredictable…
Which is what Kevin had called his mother, too. Apparently it was the watchword for the modern woman. But he preferred unpredictable to the expected, anyway.
James had called Kevin’s cell phone a while ago, had caught him leaving his last class of the day. He was on his way.
Deciding that the way to a teenage boy’s heart was through his stomach, James set bowls of salsa and chips on the kitchen counter, deciding the kitchen would be a less intimidating place to talk than in the living room.
He wandered to the front window to watch for Kevin’s arrival. Anxiety ate away at him. Nothing in his experience had prepared him for this. No matter what he did or said, Kevin could perceive him as trying too hard or not hard enough, or whatever else was within the realm of possibility in a teenager’s mind.
He wondered why Kevin didn’t want his mother to know they’d met, but he was grateful she’d considered Paul’s promise sacred. Realistically, however, how long did Kevin think he could keep it from his mother?
Kevin came into sight, hands shoved in his pockets, sunglasses in place, a Dodgers cap on his head. Where had he parked? There were empty spots in front of the house, but he was on foot. The bigger question, though—should James open the door before Kevin reached it or wait for him to knock? He hated that he didn’t know how to behave with Kevin. Would Kevin want to know how anxious James was to see him—or would he think James’s expectations were too high?
He decided to let the boy ring the bell, then opened the door almost instantly. “How’s it going?” James asked, heading toward the kitchen, letting Kevin follow.
“Okay.”
“I figured you might be hungry.” He pointed toward the snacks. “What do you drink?”
“Orange juice.”
Hiding a smile, James opened the refrigerator and grabbed the juice, shutting the door on six different brands of soda he’d bought, hoping that one was Kevin’s favorite. He poured a tall glass, was pleased that Kevin was already eating the chips and salsa, which seemed an odd combination with orange juice.
“You going to college full-time?” James asked.
“Eighteen units.”
“What’s your major?”
“Criminal justice.” His gaze strayed to the folder James had left on the counter. “You find out anything?”
Criminal justice. Same as Paul and me. James didn’t sit in the chair next to Kevin, but left an empty seat between them. “I found out a lot, but I doubt it’s anything you don’t already know.”
The doorbell rang. James excused himself. “I’m expecting a package,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”
It was a package, all right, but not the one he expected. This one was about five feet seven, reed slender and dressed in her waitress garb of white blouse and black skirt. “Mysterious,” he said as coolly as he could. She’d irritated him the other night with her flirtation game, or whatever it was, but he couldn’t seem to convince his tap-dancing hormones that he should stay detached.
“Hi. I happened to be in the neighborhood.” She smiled nervously.
“I’ve got company. Could you come back in a while?”
Impatience flickered in her eyes. “How much time do you need to give me an answer? Yes, I owe you more money, and how much—or, no, I don’t.”
He could give her an answer. He didn’t want to. Not yet. Obviously there was something between them. He needed to know why she was resisting exploring their attraction. “I—”
“You
