Christmas Cover-up

“It’s fine.” She’d slipped on her black suede jacket over her shirt and slacks. “Nice wheels.”

“Six years old and still running like a charm. One of my brothers is a mechanic.”

“One of them?” And he’d already mentioned a sister. “How many kids in your family?”

“Five. Three boys and two girls. And I’ve already got six, no, seven nephews and nieces. I’m the oldest.”

“Figures. You act like a big brother.”

“How’s that?”

“Bossy.”

“My brothers and sisters would probably agree with you,” he said. “How many siblings do you have?”

She’d need a calculator to figure out the complexities of her many blended families. There were stepbrothers and stepsisters and other children—like Danny’s new stepchildren. Did they count as relations? “Genetically, I’m my mother’s only child.”

“Lucky.”

Though his grin probably wasn’t meant to be sexy, the curve of his mouth elevated her core temperature. God help her, she wanted to kiss him.

To keep herself from grabbing his shoulders and planting a big wet one on his sexy mouth, she laced her fingers in her lap. “Just in case Danny is right and there’s a professional hit man after me, how’s this Mercedes in a high-speed chase?”

“Might be fun to find out.”

“You probably won’t get a chance tonight.” She glanced over her shoulder through the back window. A police cruiser was following them to her duplex in the heart of Denver. “We’ve got a cop escort.”

“When are they bringing your van?”

“Tomorrow.” Not having transportation was inconvenient but manageable. “It’s only five blocks from my house to the shop. I can walk.”

“Not alone.” His clipped tone indicated his disapproval. “That’s a real bad idea.”

“Oh, please. I’m not really in danger.”

“You don’t want to believe anything bad is going to happen,” he said. “Always hoping for the best. The eternal optimist.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being positive. What’s the alternative?”

“Thinking clearly.” At a stoplight, he turned toward her. “Seriously, Rue. Look at the facts.”

“Fine,” she said. “Even if that alleged professional hit man intends to come after me, how would he know where to find me? How would he know who I am?”

“You were wearing an apron with Ruth Ann’s Cakes written across the front. Kind of a big clue.”

“True, but—”

“You chased after him,” he pointed out. “You fired a gun at his car.”

“Okay, he might be ticked off, but—”

“We’re talking about a stone-cold killer. Somebody who placed a direct shot in the victim’s heart. Somebody you don’t take risks with.”

Unfortunately, everything he said made sense. He concluded with, “Therefore, you shouldn’t be alone tonight.”

“Maybe not.” But she couldn’t bring herself to stay at Danny’s house where she’d be an unwanted intruder with his new family. And her mother lived forty minutes away from her shop—time that Rue didn’t want to spend commuting back and forth.

She directed him the last few blocks through the older part of Denver near St. Luke’s Hospital. In this up-and-coming neighborhood, several of the old mansions had been refurbished as offices, apartments or condos. There was a pride in ownership. Many houses were already decorated with Christmas lights. The four-story condo building on the corner had a neon sleigh and reindeer above the entrance. She pointed out her home, and he parked.

The streetlight reflected off her front window. Two crab apple trees marked the property line between her one-story, blond-brick duplex and the house next door.

As soon as she stepped onto the curb, the two uniformed officers from the cruiser that had followed them came toward her. Their hands rested on the holsters clipped to their belts. “We’ll accompany you.”

“Thank you,” she said. “But you don’t have to kick the door down or anything. I have a key.”

Surrounded by two of Denver’s finest and tall, broad-shouldered Cody Berringer, Rue should have felt safe. But she sensed danger. Could almost smell it. It was like something left too long on the burner.

The exterior of her house looked the same as when she’d left this morning at dawn to work on the cakes for Danny’s party. She’d cranked open the miniblinds on the front window so her houseplants would get some sun, and they were still open. No lights shone from the inside.

On the porch, she realized she wouldn’t need her key. The red-painted door was ajar. Her home had been broken into. Her premonition of danger became reality.

A jolt of fear hyped up her senses. Behind the trunk of the crab apple tree, she saw a hiding place for a man with a gun. The wind through the shrubs whispered a warning. The rush of traffic from Eighteenth Street sounded like an approaching army.

The two officers reacted immediately. One on each side, they rushed her to their patrol cruiser and shoved her into the backseat. Cody was beside her.

“What’s happening?” Her voice trembled.

“They’re making sure you’re safe,” Cody said as he wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders. “Calling for backup before they enter the house.”

She clung to the unraveling threads of her self-control. Already today, she’d fallen apart in this man’s arms. Not again. Damn it, not again. She wanted to touch him, but not like this. Not in fear. “This isn’t fair. Why is this happening to me?”

“You said it yourself, Rue. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Police sirens converged on her neighborhood. Her home! Two more patrol cars pulled up at the curb. The officers poured out, guns drawn. It was like watching an action-adventure movie from inside the screen.

She swallowed her fear. “I guess this settles it. I won’t be staying at my house tonight.”

“Where will you go?”

No idea. There were friends she could call. And people who worked at her shop. But the break-in meant somebody really was after her, and she didn’t want to put a friend in danger. “I could get a motel room.”

Very gently, he touched her chin and turned her face toward him. “Come home with me.”

Her first instinct was to throw herself into his arms and shower him with grateful kisses. But the sane part of her mind objected. She barely knew Cody. “I couldn’t.”

“I live in a high-rise with a twenty-four-hour-a-day doorman and surveillance cameras. And I have an extra bedroom. And it’s not far from here.”

She didn’t understand his motivations. He’d already gone well beyond polite support. He was acting as if he really cared about her. “Why are you being so nice?”