would you? Compare your life to mine, I mean?” He watched her with those striking eyes, leaning toward her, his body language, his posture saying he was really listening. That he really wanted to hear what she had to say.
Which was, of course, part of the courting game and meant absolutely nothing.
Courting?
As if.
Men like Tristan Sinclair did not notice women like Marti, let alone court them.
“I’m not comparing. I’m just saying that my life is pretty mundane and yours…well, yours isn’t.”
“I’ve got news for you, Marti. Your life is anything but mundane right now. And, by the time this is all over, you’re going to be wishing for boring.” The words were a grim reminder that Gordon Johnson was free, and Marti’s hands tightened into fists around the steering wheel.
“You really think Johnson is coming after me?”
“I don’t think it. I know it. Johnson is a lot of things, but stupid isn’t one of them. He knows you’re bound to be the state’s key witness against Buddy and him. He’s going to make it his goal to keep you from testifying.”
“That’s not very comforting.”
“Good. The less comfortable you are, the happier I’ll be.”
“Gee, thanks.” She shoved the keys in the ignition, but he put a hand over hers before she could start the car.
“Johnson is a cold-blooded killer, Marti. If making you uncomfortable keeps you safe from him, that’s exactly what I want to do.”
“Look, Tristan, I know you’re trying to help, but—”
“I’m not trying to do anything. I’m doing it.” He squeezed her hand, the gesture easy and warm. “Now, let’s go. We don’t want to be late.”
She should keep arguing, tell him to get out, remind him that she was a grown woman capable of taking care of herself, but something told her that Tristan Sinclair was not going to be dissuaded and that short of getting out and walking to church, Marti had no choice but to accept her unwanted passenger.
Or maybe not so unwanted.
The fact was, having Tristan around didn’t seem like such a bad thing. As she pulled up her long driveway, she imagined a million eyes watching from the woods that lined the street, a million dangers lurking just out of sight. Silly, she knew, but as real as the air she was breathing. Anyone could be hiding in the thick fall foliage, ready to jump in front of the car, shoot out a tire, force her to a stop. And if that anyone happened to be Gordon Johnson, Marti figured that having Tristan in her car might not be such a bad idea after all.
SIX
Chocolate. Cinnamon. The warmth of family mixed with the cool, crisp fall breeze.
Tristan had smelled more exotic perfumes, but none had tugged at his awareness the way Martha’s scent did. It hovered around her as he escorted her through the church parking lot and made him want to inhale, to hold the fragrance deep in his lungs, let it fill the part of him that had been emptied during the months he’d worked undercover.
A time of renewal.
He needed that as much as he needed to get the cast off his arm and get himself back into working shape.
“I’ll be fine from here.” Marti spoke quietly as they approached the church’s open front door. It seemed she actually thought he was going to leave her there.
“I know, but I think I’ll join you anyway.”
“You might want to rethink that. I’m planning to volunteer in the toddler nursery.” They might not need her there, but at least closed in the nursery, Martha knew she could avoid the questions her women’s Sunday School class was bound to ask.
“And you think that will scare me away?”
“I’ve seen lesser men felled by the prospect.”
Tristan laughed, the sound dry and a little harsh. It had been a while since he’d found anything to be truly amused about. Life as Sky Davis hadn’t been something to laugh at. “Good thing I’m not lesser men.”
She leaned back, giving him a slow appraising look that was more joke than flirtation. “Yes, it is.”
He laughed again, hooking his good arm around her waist and tugging her the last few feet to the church door. “Thanks for the laugh, Sunshine.”
“Thanks for playing bodyguard. Of course you know that as soon as church is over, I’m sending you on your way.”
“I know you’ll try.”
“Martha!” The strident male voice greeted them as they stepped into the building. The speaker, a lean blonde with hard eyes and a weak jaw, hurried toward them, his gaze on Martha. “I’ve been trying to call you all weekend.”
Marti stiffened as he approached, but her smile was pleasant. Unless Tristan missed his guess, this was the fiancé. The ex-fiancé.
“Yes. I know.”
“And you didn’t think it necessary to answer the phone, or to return the calls?”
“A lot of people were calling me, Brian. I couldn’t get to everyone.”
Brian. Yep, the ex-fiancé.
“If you organized your time better that wouldn’t be a problem. What you should have done was make a list and—”
“Prioritize. Yes, Brian. I know. Fortunately, that’s not something you need to concern yourself about anymore.” Marti smiled again, her teeth gritted in an obvious effort to keep from saying something she’d regret.
Tristan had no such compunction. “I’m sure you did prioritize, Sunshine. There’s no doubt in my mind you managed to contact the people who warranted it.”
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