Hot Spot (29 page)

But it could be a start.

"WHO WANTS TO do their math now?" Danny asked.

Stella's head snapped up, she met Danny's cheerful gaze, and she immediately began to believe in karma. Not with her usual lip service. But for real. "You like math?" she said.

"I won the national math quiz in ninth grade; it was my major in college, too."

"No way."

"Word of honor."

"Are you a Boy Scout?"

"No. Are you a Girl Scout?"

Okay, never mind. She wasn't a joiner, either. "I don't suppose you like math puzzles?"

"I suppose I might."

She grinned. "Where have you been all my life?"

"Ten miles away—at least the last few years."

Oops. Why did he have to remind her that she didn't know squat about him. She didn't know where he grew up or who his parents were or where he went to school. More importantly, she didn't know if he dealt drugs and consorted with felons.

"Danny said he had some detectives guarding his place last night."

"Hey." Danny shot Ryan a sharp look. "That's enough."

"Sorry. I forgot." Ryan looked distraught. "I'm really sorry."

"Never mind. It's no big deal."

"What detectives?" Chris exclaimed, all eyes.

"They're just friends of mine. They're staying with me for a few days."

Now that story was different from the word
guarding
that Ryan had used. Fucking A it was. Her chocolate cake euphoria melted away like sugar in a rain storm.

Back to the real world, where handsome, sexy men like Danny Rees weren't likely to be your knight in shining armor. Not that she was looking for a knight, but a fellow math wizard—now that was a real dream date. That was better than a fairy tale any day. And if you added hot sex into the equation, it pretty much went off the charts when it came to a perfect match.

"Come on. Who needs help with their math homework?" Danny pointed at the kids she was tutoring and jerked his thumb toward the back room. "We'll work for a half hour and then you can have a ride in the Ferrari, too."

She'd never seen two kids move so fast in her life.

"Give me a half hour," he said, glancing at Stella. "Another ten minutes for a ride and then we'll go someplace quiet. Amy's kindly agreed to take over for the afternoon."

Amy blushed.

He was able to perform a variety of miracles. Amy rarely even showed emotion, let alone a blush like what now colored her normally unearthly pale skin. And Ryan's rare smile and the boys actually running to do their homework—no wonder she'd fallen under his spell.

He was a damned Svengali.

Be strong.

Or be afraid.

She wasn't sure which.

But by God, he could charm the birds out of the trees.

WHEN THE HOMEWORK WAS DONE AND THE CAR ride over, Stella and Danny left. "Where to?" he said as they stood on her porch. "Someplace quiet preferably."

"The back room at Crystal's is quiet, and I could get a pork chop on a stick. What? I only had two pieces of chocolate cake. I need protein."

He did a two-second run through a list of other options. She was right about the quiet back room though. "What kind of tap beer?"

"Labatt's. What else?"

He grinned. "Do you think we were separated at birth?"

"I sure as hell hope not."

"Amen to that." And he waved her before him down the stairs.

She found the answer to his change of clothes tossed on the shelf behind the seats, a small overnight bag left open. "You travel prepared."

"They were left over from something or other."

Not wishing to ruin her really good mood, she had no intention of pressing for an explanation beyond his vague answer. It wasn't as though he'd been a monk before she met him.

Crystal's back room was empty at two on a Sunday afternoon in July; everyone was out on the bar's terrace overlooking the river.

The Labatt's was crisply cool, the glasses frosted, and the pork chops done to perfection on Crystal's wood grill. And a lazy lethargy, part physical, part emotional contentment, seeped into the senses of the only occupants of the room. They held hands on the table top, kissed with frosty cool lips, and smiled at each other between desultory attempts at conversation.

"My sister really is coming next weekend," he said.

"I'll see you after she leaves." She didn't even notice she was talking like a girlfriend.

He nodded and smiled. "Maybe she'll leave early." He didn't actually know what a boyfriend sounded like. That learning curve had never been explored.

"Had enough?" She offered him a bite of her third pork chop.

"Of that—yeah." He grinned. "Of other things—no. When does your store clear out?"

"Six today."

He glanced at his watch. "We might have to do it in the car."

"And where exactly would you find the necessary privacy to do that?" The town was mobbed on summer weekends.

He groaned softly.

"We could go to your place."

Obsession lent some credence to the idea. He wasn't about to fall asleep this afternoon; he could keep an eye on her. He could also call ahead and clear his house. "Why not?"

"I thought you'd never ask," she teased.

Not exactly a soothing response, but nothing he couldn't handle when he'd gone almost seven hours without screwing her. When in serious withdrawal, logic was tied up in the back room.

He paid the tab.

Stella ignored the wad of bills. She was in major denial of her own with her sexual motors revving up.

They'd almost reached the car when Danny's phone rang. After a glance at the screen, he said, "Excuse me," and walked a short distance away.

One of the guards at his house said, "We caught a man and a woman trying to get in through your gate. They say they know you. Kirsty and Brian."

"I'll be right there." Returning to Stella, he said, "Sorry, something came up. I'll take you home." And he watched for her reaction.

Jesus, he looked grim. "Is there a problem?"

"Maybe."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

He didn't answer for a three count. "I'll let you know," he said with a tight smile, taking her arm and hurrying her to the car.

She had to practically run to keep up with him. And all her reservations came flooding back. Every TV show on drugs she'd ever seen ran like video clips through her brain. Would she see his name in the papers tomorrow? Would the headlines proclaim,

MAJOR DRUG BUST IN ST. CROIX COUNTY WISCONSIN?

Shit. Why couldn't the good guys come with less baggage? Or worse, was he really not a good guy? Was he the absolute polar opposite?

Who the hell was she, he thought. Friend or foe? Was she supposed to keep him occupied while her colleagues made another pass at his office? Was hot sex her MO, and he was stupid enough to fall for it?

He didn't speak on the swift drive up the hill to her house. He was too tempted to say something rude. And if he was wrong— he'd be losing something he might not want to lose.

"Call me," she said as she got out. Although with that grim look on his face she wasn't sure he would.

"Right."

Not a smile, not so much as the slightest warmth in his voice.

She shut the car door.

He stepped on the gas—hard.

And five seconds later, her street was quiet enough even for Mrs. Blythe.