Forbidden Fantasies Bundle(44)

“It just makes sense.” He shrugged. “You get to a certain age and you want to settle into a life with someone.”

“I guess. Any luck, if I may ask?”

“Not so far. I’ve dated a couple of women, but…”

“It didn’t work out?” Her curiosity made him uncomfortable, but he somehow found himself wanting to explain.

“We didn’t click. Couple of dates, but we ran out of things to say. I’m not much of a talker.”

“You talk to me.”

“Probably too much.” The more she knew about him, the harder it was to keep the lies straight in his head, to keep the case clear and his goals front and center.

“I don’t think so. And, frankly, if you want to get serious with someone, you’ll have to do a lot better than that.”

“The less I say, the fewer mistakes I can make.” That was full-out true in the moment. It was a relief not to be lying into her earnest face.

“You think a woman who loves you expects you to be perfect? If she loves you, she’ll forgive your flaws and mistakes.”

She was a romantic, all right. “I think you earn love and guard it with everything in you.” Sure, some people were high-minded and long-suffering, but he’d seen enough, especially on the job, to know that was mostly not the case.

“You don’t give people much credit. Love is sturdier than you think, Rick.” She fiddled with her locket. Her showing him the secret picture seemed almost more intimate than his making love to her. She wore it to remind herself never to settle. She’d had an asshole for a boyfriend and still believed in romance.

She deserved to be appreciated for all her depth and sweetness by a man who cared for her alone.

Rick didn’t want to think of her hunting around, sleeping with a bunch of guys. She thought she just wanted sex, but Samantha put her heart into everything she did. She could get hurt so easily.

He started to warn her to be careful, but he couldn’t, not when she looked so earnest and so sure. So all he said was, “Maybe you’re just braver than I am.”

Then he heard the buzz of saws out back. Darien was due to check in with the workers and he’d been standing here like a lovesick fool. “I need to head out back. Talk to the workers about fixing this.” He jiggled the counter.

“Sure,” she said. “Good idea.” But she was pondering his words, worrying about him. Sweet, really. As if she hoped he’d find some forgiving woman with a sturdy love. She just reached into his chest and squeezed his beating heart like Bianca had suggested that first day.

On the other hand, he knew for a fact she could never forgive him for what he was hiding from her.

The crew boss told him that he’d just missed Darien, but he managed to get the gist of the conversation. Darien wanted the workers to quit work on the second floor so they could finish the cupboards in the beauty shop before a shipment came in that night. A shipment. The hairs on the back of Rick’s neck rose.

Furthermore, he’d instructed them to buy locks for the cupboards.

Locks. No hair product was worth a padlock. Had to be guns, drugs or money. Adrenaline pumped through him. Something big was afoot. He’d need to be on site for that delivery, which meant a few overnights at the center.

He headed off to call Mark with the news, then scout out the best place for a stakeout. Somewhere in there he realized he’d forgotten to ask about fixing Samantha’s counter.



RICK BOLTED UP from the futon in Mona’s shop and grabbed his gun. He never wore it at work, not wanting to alarm Samantha, but a stakeout could be dangerous.

He hadn’t meant to fall asleep—he’d chosen Mona’s studio for its proximity to the service door and salon and because there was little chance he’d fall asleep on the incredibly uncomfortable couch.

This was his second night, though, and exhaustion had overcome the thin cushion and cramped length of it. He rubbed his eyes, then glanced at his watch. Twelve-fifteen.

The rumble of a long-haul truck’s engine out back came to him. The delivery. Thank God the noise had woken him up.

He moved soundlessly to the back of the shop and cracked the door. Street sounds told him the service door was open. He listened hard, his own breathing harsh in his ears, and picked up small talk from the parking lot. He twisted his neck slowly to ease the kink. He’d need another Mona massage soon.

He’d saved himself a trip home this morning by stowing travel-size toiletries in the cargo pockets of his pants and cleaning up in the center’s bathroom, zipping out before Samantha had arrived, then returning in the T-shirt he’d worn under the previous day’s denim shirt.