“Sadie's . . . ahh . . . talented. None of us ask how she does it. I'd appreciate it if you didn't either.”
Meg nodded. She didn't know how the woman could manage something like that and she didn't want to.
A couple of guys had come into the office while they were upstairs. She recognized Nick Brodieâhard to miss with his amazingly handsome dark features and brilliant blue eyes. Like Ethan and Val, Nick and his wife Samantha were also good friends.
Nick walked over and slapped Dirk on the back. “Hey, bro,” he said to Dirk. He leaned over and kissed Meg's cheek. “Good to see you, Meg. How's Charlie doing?”
“He's had a few bad moments, but I think he's going to be okay. How're Samantha and your little Travis?”
Nick grinned. “They're both doing great. Travis said his first word.”
“Da Da, right?” she said.
“Yeah, how'd you know?”
Meg just laughed. Nick was the proudest papa she'd ever seen. She envied Samantha that. Meg couldn't help wondering whether Dirk would be the generous, loving father she imagined him to be.
“I'm on my way out,” Nick said. “Samantha's cooking coq au vin for supper. Coq au vin, man. Some fancy French dish. Can you believe that? I don't want to miss it.”
“I don't blame you,” Meg said. Samantha was a fabulous cook. Val wasn't half bad either. Meg could barely bake a frozen pizza.
“Tell Sam to send Meg the recipe.” Dirk winked at Meg as Nick headed out the door.
“Very funny.” Meg didn't think she would ever be any kind of cook, but maybe after she got her boutique up and running, she'd take some lessons, surprise him with a decent meal once in a while.
She'd do it for Dirk if things worked out between them. If he could handle being a father.
If Dirk decided to stay.
A lot of ifs. Meg shoved the unwanted thoughts aside as she followed him out the back door.
Across the parking lot, Nick waved as he climbed into a big black SUV with the words BOSS, Inc. on the side.
“I use one of the company cars when I need to transport people,” Dirk said. “I've got an old Buick parked in my storage unit I use for undercover work.”
“I wondered,” Meg said. “The Viper isn't exactly inconspicuous.”
He grinned unrepentantly. “Not exactly.” With a hand on her waist, he guided her across the lot. They had almost reached the car when a sleek red Corvette Stingray drove in and pulled into one of the nearby spaces.
The powerful engine went silent. The door cracked open and a gorgeous, long-legged blonde stepped out, all heavy golden curls, short, tight skirt, and a body that would match any of the models who worked for La Belle
.
Next to her, Dirk's wide shoulders went tense.
“Hey, Dirk!” the blonde called out, striding toward him on a pair of platform heels that pushed her well over six feet. “I was hoping I'd catch you here.” She glanced at Meg as if she had only just noticed her standing there. “I'm Stella,” the blonde said with a smile.
Meg felt a surge of jealousy so strong it made her ears ring.
“Stella, this is . . . ahh . . . Meg.”
Stella kept smiling. “Nice to meet you, Meg.”
“You too,” Meg choked out, surprised she could form the words. She was still trying to grasp the notion there really was a Stella, a woman Dirk had loved enough to tattoo a broken heart on his chest when he lost her.
Stella's big brown eyes swung back to his face. “So . . . umm . . . I guess you've been busy. I kind of thought I'd hear from you by now.”
“I meant to call ... I. . . . Look, Stella, I'm on a case. And you're right. I'm really busy. I'll give you a call when I get a chance.”
“Oh. Okay.” She looked over at Meg. “You must be the client. Nice meeting you.” Turning, she took a couple of long, leggy strides, the round, toned cheeks of her ass moving with perfect precision, and slid back into the Stingray.
Meg had been a model. She still stayed in shape and she knew she was more than pretty. But so was Stella. She was gorgeous.
Tossing a wave out the window at Dirk, Stella shoved the Stingray into gear, gunned the engine, and drove out of the parking lot.
Meg couldn't look at Dirk. “I need to get back. It's time for Rose to go home.”
“Look, Meg, I told you there were other women. I didn't lie to you.”
“I know. I just . . .” She blinked, fighting to hold back tears. It was crazy. She had no claim on Dirk. Not since the day she had sent him away. “You're right, I'm sorry. I just ... I really need to get going.” She hurried to the Viper, tried to open the passenger door, but it was locked.
Dirk walked up behind her. She could feel his warm, hard body an instant before he turned her into his arms. When she tried to look away, he caught her chin, forcing her eyes to his face.
“Dammit, I lied about the heart, okay? It wasn't Stella. I don't give a fuck about Stella. It was you. It was always you.” And then he kissed her.
And kissed her and kissed her. And even when it started to rain, he kept right on kissing her. Her arms slid around his neck and she was kissing him back and she didn't want to ever let him go.
She was drenched and laughing by the time Dirk released her.
He trailed a finger along her jaw. “So, are we okay?”
She nodded, pretended the tears on her cheeks were raindrops as she dashed them away. “We're okay.”
“All right, then. Now I'll take you home.”
She went up on her toes and kissed him one last time, then waited for the click of the locks and slid inside the car, her skinny jeans squishing water onto the expensive leather seats.
He'd tattooed the broken heart on his chest because of her. For a moment she smiled. Then she remembered it was there to remind him never to love a woman again.
Meg's smile slipped away.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
As Dirk drove toward Meg's house, the rain beat down hard, making the roads slick, forming puddles on the asphalt that reflected the taillights of the cars in front of him. The rhythmic slap of the wipers warred with “Burnin' It Down,” the song that began to play on his cell phone.
He hit the Hands Free and heard the husky voice of M-Jazz, the rapper, scrape over the line.
“Dirk, it's M. I need you, man. I got trouble and I don't know what to do about it. Can you come over?”
“What's the problem?” Dirk asked.
“It's that crazy dude I told you 'bout, man. He tried to break into my freakin' house. He was armed, dude. I saw the gun when he ran away. I need you to find this guy, get him off my back.”
“You call the cops?”
“Yeah, I did. They're putting an extra car in the neighborhood, but that don't cut it, man.”
“You're right. You're at the point you need personal protection. You need a bodyguard, M. I wish I could do it, butâ”
“I know. I'm gonna hire somebody, but I got a gig tonight. I really need your help.”
Dirk glanced over at Meg. After the hot kiss in the parking lot, he had plans for her this evening. But even great sex wasn't worth letting one of his clients get killed.
“I can be at your place in an hour,” he said. “I'll take a look around, see if the guy left any prints, anything we can use to find him. I'll go with you tonight and set up some kind of ongoing protection starting tomorrow.”
“That's great. I'll see you in an hour.” M signed off and Dirk turned to Meg.
“Looks like the evening I was hoping for is going to be postponed.”
“That's all right. You can come over when you're finished.”
“M's got a gig. I'll have someone covering his house, but I still won't get done till late.”
The smile she gave him was so full of promise his blood pumped faster and his groin tightened.
“I don't mind,” she said softly.
Dirk thought of what would happen when he joined her in bed and stifled a groan. “Okay, then. I'll come over when I'm finished.”
“You have a key to the front door and you know the security code on the new alarm system, right?”
“I know it.” He pulled the Viper up in front of the house a few minutes later and walked Meg into the entry. Mrs. Wills was just getting ready to leave.
“Charlie's had supper,” the heavyset woman said as she shrugged on her long, beige coat and pulled her umbrella out of the brass can beside the front door. “He loved the Sloppy Joes.” She glanced at Dirk and smiled. “There's enough left on the stove for both of you.”
“Thanks, Rose,” Meg said. “I'll see you in the morning.”
The housekeeper left and Meg turned to Dirk. “Are you hungry? I could fix you a sandwich to take with you.”
His stomach growled. He was starving. “That sounds great.”
Meg made him a Sloppy Joe she wrapped in foil, put the sandwich and a can of Coke in a plastic grocery bag, and walked him to the door.
“Don't wait up,” he said as he leaned down and brushed a kiss over her lips.
“I won't. You can wake me when you come to bed.”
Oh, man, yeah.
He kissed her again. “I'll see you later. Lock the door and set the alarm.”
She just nodded. Dirk headed for the car, unwrapping the sandwich and digging in along the way. Messy but delicious. He climbed inside the Viper and fired up the engine. He tried to keep his mind on the business of keeping M safe, not the lust for Meg running hot in his blood.
* * *
Meg slept fitfully. Charlie had kept her company for a while, the two of them watching TV together in her big king-size bed. He'd finally gotten drowsy and she'd carried him to bed. He was used to sleeping in his own room. Until the kidnapping, he had preferred it.
Tonight he'd snuggled down in his youth bed, hugged his pillow, and fallen deeply asleep.
Meg was the one having trouble sleeping. She kept an ear cocked for the sound of Dirk's footsteps coming up the stairs. The hours crept past and he still wasn't there. He had said he'd be late, but maybe he had run into trouble. Or maybe he had just changed his mind.
Dirk still hadn't made any real commitmentânot that she expected him to, at least not yet. Finally she heard his boots pounding up the stairs and relaxed enough to fall asleep, curled on her side.
She woke up when he slid into bed beside her, fit himself spoon fashion behind her. She glanced at the clock. It was almost three in the morning.
“Sorry, I'm so late. Go back to sleep, baby.” He kissed the back of her neck and a little curl of heat slid into her belly.
She didn't want to sleep. Not with Dirk Reynolds in her bed. When he draped an arm over her middle, she moved his hand so it covered her breast over the short lavender silk nightie she was wearing. When she fit her bottom snugly against his groin, she felt his erection stir.
“So I guess you aren't that tired,” he whispered against her ear.
“Are you?” she whispered back.
He slid up the silk nightie, leaving her bare to the waist. “No,” he said softly. He slipped the straps of the nightgown off her shoulders, baring her breasts, too, then ran his thumb over her nipple.
Her stomach clenched as he caressed her, bent and kissed the side of her neck. She started to roll onto her back, but his firm grip held her in place. His talented hands found her sex, toyed with her, stroked her. She was way more than ready when he drew her up on her knees and came up behind her.
God, he felt good as he slid himself inside and slowly began to move.
Oh, she liked this. Liked the way it made her feel so feminine, liked the way he took charge, liked that he was so powerful, so male.
He caught her hips to hold her steady and began to move faster, deeper, harder. Need swept through her, pulsed out through her limbs. Her stomach muscles contracted and ripples of heat rolled through her. She started coming. Arched her back to take him deeper, felt a fresh rush of pleasure, moaned his name, and came again.
Dirk followed her to release, his muscles going rigid, his head thrown back, a growl locked low in his throat.
For several long moments they remained where they were, their bodies still joined as they spiraled back to earth. Then Dirk tumbled her down on the bed, the two of them still locked together.
“Sleepy now?” he asked, nuzzling the nape of her neck.
She gave him a drowsy smile, nodded, and yawned. “'Night.”
Dirk chuckled and rolled out of bed to take care of the condom she'd barely realized he'd put on. Meg hadn't told him yet, but while she was in the hospital, she had gotten a birth control shot. Since she knew he wasn't the kind of man to take chances with his body, she figured in a few more days they wouldn't need any more condoms.
It was her last, very pleasant thought as she drifted off to sleep.
* * *
Two days passed. Meg had found a location for her boutique and it was perfect. The interior would have to be gutted and remodeled to fit her particular needs, but that was part of the lease agreement that was being prepared.
Dirk had been helping her with the store design in the evenings and was surprisingly good at it, but then, he had a lot of experience remodeling the houses he sold.
He spent most of his days at the office, trying to dig up information that might help them solve the kidnapping. She knew he had been looking into Jonathan's activities, but he had admitted that so far he'd come up with nothing.
The rest of the time he was working to help his rapper friend line up security for an upcoming concert tour.
He had stayed with her every night and it had been heaven. Last night they had all gone out for pizza at Chuck E. Cheese's. Dirk and Charlie had played the arcade games until past Charlie's bedtime. As she watched the two of them together, it seemed Dirk was having as much fun as her little boy.
Meg grinned. Every woman knew men were all little boys underneath.
This morning, after a night of amazing sex, she had slept a little late. Dirk had kissed her, gone down to fix Charlie a bowl of cereal, then left when Rose arrived, heading off to work.
Now, sitting at the dining table in front of her laptop, Meg poured over Web sites filled with women's sportswear. Upscale brands like Stella McCartney, Kelly Dooley, Lucas Hugh, Bogner, and Gorsuch. She planned to carry expensive sporting apparel that was beautifully designed, as well as some more affordable brands like Adidas and Juicy Couture.
Her cell rang as she clicked up another Web site and began to scan photos of snow-skiing outfits. It made her want to get out on the slopes again. She wondered if Dirk preferred skiing or snowboarding; but then, he was probably good at both.
She picked up her cell phone, checked the caller ID, but didn't recognize the number. “Hello?”
“Megan. How are you? It's Jonathan.”
He rarely called. She wondered what he wanted. “I'm doing very well.” She glanced at the computer screen and couldn't hold back a smile. “I've decided to open that boutique we talked about when we first got married.”
“Well, good for you.”
Surprise trickled through her. He had wanted her to stay home, spend her time entertaining his clients. He had only tolerated her modeling because the pay was so good and her dad had given the job his stamp of approval. Jonathan never went against her father.
“I'm really excited about it,” she told him.
“So you've found a location?”
“A tenant vacated a space in Rainier Square. It's the perfect spot for the high-end merchandise I'll be selling, and it's less than four miles from the house.”
“Good choice. The Fairmont is just across the street, lots of people with money. How's Charlie? You mentioned taking him to a therapist when I saw you at the hospital.”
It was amazing they were still talking. Since the divorce, their conversations had been brief to say the least, and only when absolutely necessary.
“I took him to see a doctor named Sharon Murphy. She specializes in child psychology.”
“That's good. Charlie is the reason I called, Meg. I'd really like to talk to you about him. I know I haven't been a good father, but after what happened at the lake ... well, it opened my eyes. Charlie is my son. He could have been killed and I would never really have known him. I want us to get reacquainted.”
Meg couldn't believe what she was hearing. Jonathan had never shown any interest in their child. Maybe almost losing his son had changed him in some way.
“I'm listening.”
“I was hoping we could get together, talk things over. I have some time later this morning.”
Dirk had been digging into Jonathan's activities for days and come up with nothing. He was still waiting for Sadie to get back, but Meg didn't believe her ex-husband would purposely do anything to hurt his son.
“Why don't you come over here?” she asked. Where Rose was cleaning upstairs and Dirk could join them.
“Mrs. Wills is there and so is Charlie. It wouldn't really be private. We could meet at Starbucks, have a cup of coffee and talk things over. Surely with all that's happened, it's not too much to ask.”
Meg took a deep breath. That they were divorced didn't change the fact that Jonathan was Charlie's father. Meg knew how much her little boy yearned for a dad who loved him and wanted to be with him. If Jonathan was serious, maybe they could come up with some kind of plan.
Still, she didn't want to do anything foolish. “Starbucks sounds good.” Plenty of people at Starbucks and she wouldn't have to stay long.
“I have some appointments later,” Jonathan said. “We could meet in an hour, if that works for you.”
She was planning to go downtown anyway. She had an appointment with the leasing agent for another look at the boutique space; then she was signing the papers her attorney had already approved. The timing would work just right. “An hour's fine.”
“How about the Starbucks on East Madison? It isn't far from your house, and there's a parking lot right there, so parking shouldn't be a problem.”
“That'd be great.”
“I'll have a nonfat cappuccino waiting. Still your favorite, right?”
She smiled. This sounded more like the Jonathan she had known before she married him. “Yes, it is.”
“I'll see you there in an hour.” The line went dead. Meg set the phone back down next to her computer. She had time to get a little more work done before she left the house.
* * *
Jonathan's hand shook as he handed the disposable phone back to Thomas Moore, or whatever he was calling himself today. His eyes had changed from blue to dark brownâcontacts, undoubtedlyâand instead of a blond buzz cut, he had black hair, obviously a wig, but it must have been expensive because it was nearly impossible to tell.
Next to him stood the brawny man who looked like a boxer. A few feet away, the craggy-faced man he'd dubbed the smoker pulled out a cigarette and set it between his fleshy lips but didn't light up.
“Megan's agreed to meet me at Starbucks in an hour,” Jonathan said, the words a little raspy, forced between his dry lips. They were standing in the middle of an empty warehouse on Harbor Island.
Jonathan was familiar with the location. He had first met Otto Gertsman when the big German had traveled from Buenos Aires to Seattle to expand his container shipping operation.
Through a friend of Jonathan's father's in the steel industry, one of Gertsman's many endeavors, the German had come to Jonathan with his banking needs. Jonathan had been more than happy to help. Bringing in a megaclient like Otto Gertsman was a real feather in his cap.