Final Mend (5 page)

He heard scrambling behind the door after he knocked, a muttered curse, and a “Just a minute.” His heart fluttered as he wondered what all the commotion was about. Had she just gotten out of the shower and was getting dressed? He should have called, but he wanted to surprise her.

Winona opened the door with green on her face and her hair wrapped in goo. She wore a pink, slinky robe tied tight around her, but it didn't completely conceal her cleavage. His body responded, but he urged his lust to go away. Now was not the time.

She eyed his grocery sacks. “What's this?”

“Dinner.” He pushed her aside and set the sacks on the bar. Removing the wine, he stored it in the fridge to chill. “What is that on your face?”

“An avocado mask.”

“What's in it?”

“Avocado.”

He swiped his finger across her cheek and licked his finger. “Mmm. Pretty. I brought dinner. I hope you're hungry.”

“Excuse me? I thought we were meeting at your place later.”

“I'll go crazy if I don't cook and my room doesn't have a kitchen.” Jake unloaded the vegetables and set them out on the counter, hoping to entice her with the pretty colors and fresh smells. He stored the chicken in the refrigerator and washed his hands. “Do you mind if I use yours?”

“You could have called first.”

“And miss that green gunk on your face?” Jake stopped what he was doing and looked at her, grinning.

God, she was beautiful, even with a green face and goo in her hair. His eyes trailed the length of her robe and he caught a glimpse of her leg as the robe sliced open. She was barefoot, save for a glimmer of silvery pink on her toenails.

She set her hands on her hips and wrinkled her nose. “Fine. I'm going to take a shower. Help yourself to the kitchen and anything you need. And pour me a glass of wine.”

“Yes, Ms. Boss.” He felt better already as he watched her sashay her hips down the hall to her bedroom.

She paused at the door. “Wait a second.”

“What?”

“What are you doing with wine?”

He hesitated. She'd called him a recovering alcoholic last night, her scornful voice still trolling through him. “It's for you.” He held up the sparkling juice. “I'm not drinking.”

“I'm not either.”

He shrugged. “Your loss.”

She tossed her head and stuck her tongue out at him, then disappeared into the room.

Chuckling, he preheated the oven and set about preparing the marinade for the chicken. As it set, he cut up the veggies and prepared the sauce. While the chicken baked and the vegetables simmered, he prepared the cherry cheesecake and stewed over Winona.

He'd never tried to hide his problem. It was all over the Internet. And she'd been right that it wouldn't take long for the paparazzi to proclaim news of a relapse if someone saw him, recognized him, and called. His reputation would be ruined, possibly his career, especially because he was already in the spotlight with Brandon's death.

Winona emerged from her room while he was in the middle of mixing the cream cheese. He stopped what he was doing to look at her. She smelled of jasmine and roses. She'd dried her hair and it flowed down her back in soft waves. A natural beauty. He barely noticed her eye makeup. She wore a flirty summer dress that flared at her knees. Her eyes flickered when she met his gaze.

“Is this a date?” he asked as he topped the cheesecake with cherries.

“No,” she barked. “It's a business meeting.”

“Do you attend all your business meetings looking like a sex goddess?”

She blushed, and fire shot straight to his loins. Frowning, she rolled her eyes and glared at him. Probably doing everything she could not to look like a sex goddess. It didn't work.

“Sorry,” he said. “You look really beautiful.”

“Should I go change? Put that green gunk back on my face?”

“I liked the green gunk,” he admitted.

“Whatever you're cooking, it smells good.” Winona eyed the table, which he hadn't had a chance to set up yet. He finished adding the fresh cherries on top of the cheesecake and placed it in the fridge.

“Can I help with anything?” she asked.

He checked his veggies and the temperature on the chicken. He'd bought a meat thermometer at the store because he didn't know if she'd have one. The secret to good chicken was the right temperature.

“I just finished setting the table. Do you want to pick out music?”

“Music? I've never had a business meeting with music.”

“It doesn't have to all be business,” he said. He already felt better after cooking, and Winona would be enjoyable company.

“If you think this fancy dinner and charming table set up with soft music and candlelight is going to make me sleep with you, think again.”

“If I wanted you to sleep with me, I wouldn't go for dinner.” Jake carried plates and utensils to the table. Arranging a small arrangement of flowers he'd picked up at the market, he lit the array of candles beside it. “I do this for Amy all the time. She loves it. Cooking is my … I don't know. It's how I relax. I love it.”

“So you've never done it to impress a woman?”

“I never said that.”

“What would you do?”

“About what?”

“If you wanted me to go to bed with you. What would you do? How would you play it?”

The fire in Jake's loins made camp, blasting his entire lower extremities with heat. He burned with the need to watch her squirm. Sweeping his gaze over her body, he grinned and shrugged. “I don't know. I'd start by kissing you. I'd slowly come in with my mouth.” Heart pounding, he swaggered slowly towards her, his smile wide and confidence at its peak.

She impeded that confidence with a palm to his chest as he closed in.

“Won't work.”

“Maybe not right now,” he drawled.

“Maybe not ever. Don't think I can be swayed with fancy food and feel-good kisses. I still don't think I'm the girl to find your Amy.”

His back stiffened. He remembered exactly what brought him here, and there was no escape. Turning, he checked the chicken and shut off the oven.

“Jake.”

“Dinner's ready.”

“I'm sorry.”

“No worries,” he said lightly, brushing her off. She was right, and for a moment, he'd lost himself. He nodded to the table. “Sit down. I'll bring you your food.”

She sat while he arranged her food on the plate. Appearances were everything, after all. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed her fuss with her fork and shift her empty wine glass. He figured she probably wished it were full about right now.

He opened the bottle of wine and brought it to her, pouring it into her glass.

“I can't drink this,” she said.

He finished pouring and popped the lid back in, sitting in on the table near her. “Why not?”

“Well,” she began. “Because you can't.”

“And I won't. But to give the true taste of the meal, you should enjoy it with a glass of wine.”

“What about you?”

“Sparkling apple juice will suffice.”

Winona was pretty sure she'd never had a meal this fantastic before. The tastes melded together as if designed to suit each other. Definitely an erotic meal that would have most women screaming for more—no matter what Jake said. Except for the fact they'd be too full to do anything but waddle to another chair.

“This may be the best meal I've ever had.” Winona dabbed her lips with the napkin after taking a sip of the wine. He was right. The wine complemented the food and made the spices of the chicken burst in her mouth. She was sorry he couldn't experience it.

“Thanks. It's one of my favorites.”

“I'm still not convinced you're not trying to seduce me,” she teased.

He grinned and waggled his eyebrows for effect.

An unexplained silence followed. Not awkward, but not comfortable or familiar or non-awkward. It didn't feel like the right moment to ask about his family, considering all she knew was that his cousin had been murdered. But she had to broach the subject of why they were here together, eating.

“Tell me about Amy,” she said.

His eyes lit up a moment, a storm churning behind his electric blues, drawing her into an abyss. Fire shot through her and settled in her belly.

“Amy is seven, going on twenty. She's beautiful, smart, funny, and thinks she knows everything. I always feared her curiosity would get her in trouble.”

“How do you think her father's death and her disappearance are related?”

“I think whoever killed Brandon took her.”

“Is there anyone who would want Brandon dead? Anyone who would kill him for his little girl?”

“I already told you that. Lillian, her mother.” He said it like her name was poison.

“Do you want me to investigate Lillian, or Amy's disappearance?”

“Amy. But what happened to her has everything to do with Lillian. And Dillon Weaver.”

“Dillon?”

“Lillian's boyfriend. I think he was involved. I'd like to believe he did it to get Brandon and Amy out of the way so he could have Lillian to himself, but honestly I don't think that's the case.”

“What do you think?”

“I think he's Lillian's puppet.”

“Puppet for what?”

“For anything she asks. If she wants her husband out of the way, Dillon would take care of it for her. That way she doesn't have to get her hands dirty.”

“Have you told this to the police?”

Jake nodded. “He has an alibi. And if they suspect anything or anyone else, they're not saying.”

Winona stored that information for later. She wasn't sure how to feel about this yet. How to feel about Jake's blatant animosity. “Tell me about Lillian. What do I need to know about her? For what reason would she take her daughter after killing her ex—”

“They weren't divorced. At least, not yet. They were separated.”

“So they had a rocky marriage.”

“You could say that.”

“But what's her motive?”

“Money. Money is always her motive.”

“Did she have an insurance policy on him? And maybe her daughter, too?”

“I don't know. I was hoping you'd find that out for me. The cops weren't too helpful. I'm family but only a cousin. They didn't think that was good enough, apparently.”

“And Lillian has custody of this child?”

“Temporary. They were fighting for custody when Brandon was killed.”

“And Lillian has full custody now that Brandon is dead. So why would she kidnap her own child?”

“That's a good question. If she does have an insurance policy out on Amy, then she probably means to harm her. If she doesn't, she probably still means to harm her. Lillian isn't a motherly mother.”

“Or she wants to make it look like someone killed Brandon and kidnapped Amy. After all, it couldn't be her, right? Why kidnap her own daughter?”

“I thought of that, too.”

“Where's Lillian now?” Winona asked, curious to know more about this woman.

Jake shrugged. “Her home, I suppose.”

“Has she been questioned?”

“The cops questioned everyone. Including me. I told them what I knew, what I suspected of Lillian. It's obvious she captivated them. They probably think I'm the crazy one.”

“Are you crazy?”

Jake's expression was stoic. She tempered her reaction and continued. “Why are you so convinced this woman had anything to do with her missing child?”

“Because I know her. I know her type. And I know she doesn't want anything to do with being a mother.”

Winona pushed her plate aside and drained the rest of her wine. She almost reached for the bottle but remembered it wouldn't be fair to Jake. Eyebrows tapering, he grabbed the bottle and reached over to pour her a glass.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?”

His eyes twinkled, lips curling. “I can't seduce you if you're sober, now can I?”

“How do you do it?”

“Do what? Seduce women?”

Wine shot out of her nose as she burst out laughing. Setting the glass down, she grabbed a napkin. “How do you ignore this bottle of wine?”

“It doesn't hold any appeal to me any longer. It'd be like you holding a glass of piss. You wouldn't want to drink it, would you?”

“Well, of course not.” She fumbled with her napkin and set it in her lap. She crossed her legs, then uncrossed them. Finally, she parked her elbows on the table and eased her chin in her hands in an effort to stay still. “But that doesn't taste like piss.”

“To me it does. Okay, no, that's a lie. I've convinced myself it does. In reality, I'll never stop craving it. But it's not the taste I crave.”

Winona straightened her spine and nodded, growing somber again.

“You started drinking after your parents died?”

Jake frowned at the table, his brows narrowing.

“I'm sorry.” She reached across the table in an effort to reach his hands, but he was too far away.

“It's okay. I drank before their death. Typical teenage stuff, you know? But afterward, yeah, I feel into a pretty damn deep pit.”

She sat back upright and nodded. “Tell me about Brandon's parents. Have the cops shared anything with them?”

“His mother is in a nursing home. He lost his father years ago.”

“Did Brandon have any siblings?”

“No. I was as close to a brother to him as you could get.”

“And the cops aren't sharing anything with you?”

Jake shook his head. “All they say is it's still under investigation. We've had everyone in town get together and search for Amy for days on end, but nothing. Then the cops shut down, like they didn't want to talk to me anymore.”

“It's not unusual for cops to be silent during an investigation.”