Bedroom Secrets

“If he was in the army, can’t you find him through old military records?”

“The army isn’t exactly free with the information. You would have thought I was a Russian spy or something. But after two years of research, I narrowed it down to three possibilities. The first two weren’t him. The third looked promising, but the address I had is an old one. Someone different lives there now and they said the Lopezes didn’t leave a forwarding address, but they were pretty sure they live nearby. I looked in the phone book, but he’s not listed. That’s as far as I’ve gotten.”

Ty leaned against the edge of the counter, one foot crossed over the other, looking like a blond god. His jeans were relaxed fit, his flannel shirt on the loose side, but she knew first-hand the sculpted physique all that fabric hid. She’d thought about it a lot last night after she’d settled in. She’d lain in bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about Ty. She felt godawful for using the pepper spray on him, but she remembered the way his arms had felt wrapped around her in the shower. Solid and sure, but not intimidating. The memory of his hand cupping her breast had caused little tingles in the pit of her stomach.

But he was older and so much more sophisticated than her. To him, she was just a kid. Experience-wise, she was light years behind him.

“I’m going to make some phone calls today, see what I can find,” Ty said.

She shook her head. “I don’t want you calling your detective.”

He dumped the last of his coffee and set his cup in the sink. “I won’t need to. Real estate is my business. If your father owns a house, there has to be a deed. It shouldn’t be that hard to find him.”

“How long would that take?”

“A day. Two tops.” He said it casually, like it was no big deal.

To her it meant everything.

In a day or two he might bring to an end a search that had spanned over two years and brought her hundreds of miles from her home. He might find the one person left in the world who could possibly care about her. Be her family.

It was official, Tyler Douglas was her hero.

It was nearly four o’clock when Ty parked his truck in front of his rental house. He walked up to the porch, a spring in his step. He was about to make Tina one very happy woman.

Girl he reminded himself. He was definitely better off thinking of her as a girl—too young and naive. And he was old enough to know better.

He unlocked the door and stepped inside, rubbing warmth into his chilled hands. “Tina!” he called, to alert her to his presence. No way he wanted another run-in with her pepper spray.

“Back here,” she answered. “Cleaning the tub.”

He followed her voice through the house, noting her progress. The kitchen was spotless, and when he popped his head in the fridge it no longer smelled as if he’d been storing a corpse in it. The carpet had been vacuumed, the blinds and windows polished, and when he stepped in the bathroom, the tile was so gleaming white it nearly had him reaching for his Ray-Bans.

Kneeling next to the tub was Tina, bent over, jeans snug against her swaying backside, vigorously scrubbing the drain.

A sudden tug of arousal was answered by a stab of apprehension. If he didn’t get a grip he’d be breaking out in a cold sweat any minute now.

He was caught off guard, that’s all. He could control this.

“Everything looks great,” he said, looking anywhere but her curvy behind.

Tina looked up at him over her shoulder and smiled. “Thanks. I’m almost finished.”

Her cheeks were rosy, her eyes bright. Damn, she was pretty.

She turned the faucet on and rinsed the scouring powder down the drain. Her sweatshirt sleeves were pushed up to her elbows and yellow rubber gloves covered her to her forearms. When she was finished, she stood, wiping her forehead with her sleeve. Several spirals of hair fell across her forehead and she blew them out of her eyes. “All done.”

He pulled a wad of cash out of his pocket, peeled three twenties off and handed them to her. “I figured you’d prefer cash to a check.”

She stripped the gloves off and dropped them in the bucket at her feet. “I thought you said minimum wage.”

Yeah, that was when he was trying to get her not to want the job. “I said almost minimum wage. I paid my last cleaning woman seven dollars an hour.”