Careless Rapture Read online

  “Since I know what you don’t like, let me tell you what I don’t like—women who think they can use me. I don’t mind being used on occasion. Especially if I’m in an indulgent mood. It’s rare. I work in a business where people lie to me more often than not and try to use me for their own purposes. I choose when that is.” He began to smile, knowing what an effort it was for her to keep quiet. “I admire your intent, not your approach. But I’m still saying no for all the reasons I’ve stated. If you wish to insult me further, my partner should be back in an hour. Are you going to wait?”

  She nodded, too angry to speak.

  He stood. “I’m going to the vending machine. Do you want anything?”

  Jackie shook her head.

  “Fine.” He left the room.

  He went farther than the vending machine by a few blocks, trying to walk until his temper cooled. Damn that woman! She could always make him lose his temper. He didn’t know why he let her. He had trained himself to let few things bother him. A quick temper was a definite handicap in his trade. He’d learned to be analytical and calm; he wasn’t very calm right now.

  He shouldn’t have told her about Rennie, his sister. He never talked about her to anyone. Especially not to some brat used to getting her own way. Jackie didn’t interact with men, she studied them and used their weakness against them, and he’d just given her one of his. He clenched and unclenched his jaw. He wouldn’t be one of those men who fell under her spell. He refused to be enchanted by those bright eyes and charming smile. Then again, she’d never really smiled at him. He shook his head, frustrated. He didn’t care. He wasn’t going to work with her. She could work with Mack or go elsewhere since she didn’t have the sense to leave it alone. But she’d do well to stay away from him.

  Nearly a half hour later he returned to the office, hoping she was gone. She wasn’t. She still sat in her chair as though he’d hit the pause button when he’d left. He masked his surprise and dropped his coat over the chair. He sat behind his computer.

  “I can’t afford to fail,” she said in a tight, little voice.

  Clay glanced up. “I’m sorry?”

  “I can’t afford to fail. My job is all that I have to prove myself.” She stood and walked to the window. “I’ve been bouncing from here to there all my life and HOPE is the only place where I am in charge. I have real responsibilities. I’m in charge of people’s lives and I take that seriously.” She turned to him with a rueful grin. “I know you think I’m spoiled, perhaps you’re right. Older brothers don’t give you a chance to prove yourself and nobody has ever had to depend on me.” She walked over to his desk. “At HOPE people do and I will do anything in my power to make sure they are safe. Just for a while, their suffering will ease. I want to be an

  inspiration to them and let them see that since I have made it, so can they.” She leaned on the desk and met his eyes. “I will not sit around while a nameless bastard tells my clients to give up on life, that nobody loves them except him, and to trust no one outside of his community.” She took a deep, steadying breath. “I need an investigator. It doesn’t have to be you or your partner. You could give me the name of another agency.” She gripped her hands into fists. “Or if you don’t want to do that then just tell me what to do. Show me the way. Give me the tools and put me on the right path so that I won’t waste anybody’s time but my own.”

  Clay sat back and silently swore. He hadn’t expected that. A tantrum perhaps, maybe some tears or even a well-executed pout. Not such a solid, quiet conviction. Conviction was something he understood very well. It would be easier to send her away, probably smarter, too. However, no one had ever accused him of that. He looked at her earnest face, trying to convince himself that she wasn’t weaving her magic on him, that he had come to the decision on his own based on a quick reassessment of the situation. “All right.”

  Her eyes brightened. “You’ll help me?”

  “Yes.”

  She came around the table and hugged him. “I knew it.” She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “You scared me for a minute. But I knew you couldn’t have been as heartless as you seemed.” She pushed some papers aside and sat on the desk. “We’re going to work well together.”

  He cleared his throat, trying to recover from her enthusiastic response. “Yes, well, don’t get too hopeful.”

  “Oh, I know. You don’t have to warn me twice.” Jackie jumped down. “I am just so happy. I know you’ll be able to find him for me.”

  His partner, Mack O’Donnel, came in, saving him from any reply. Mack stood five-eleven with a body made of mostly muscle and a grin that could be both beguiling and threatening. Forty-five his next birthday, he sported no gray in his thinning blond hair that kept his youthful gray eyes and smooth skin from looking too boyish. A thick, ugly pair of reading glasses stuck out of his shirt pocket. “Hello,” he said in a tone he specifically used when in the presence of a pretty woman.

  Clay made introductions. “This is Jackie Henson. Jackie, this is Mack O’Donnel.”

  They shook hands, then Mack looked at Clay, a series of questions in his eyes. Clay only answered one. “She’s our new client.”

  ***

  After Jackie left, Mack clasped his hands behind his head and grinned. “So I finally got to meet Jackie, your aggravating sister-in-law.” He glanced up at the ceiling. “Man, what a pair of eyes. No wonder you never described her. You can’t. She’s the kind of woman who could strip you naked, cuff you to the bedpost, and steal all your money and you’d thank her for the experience.” His hands fell. “Too bad her case is a piece of crap, but she’s willing to pay and we’re willing to serve.”

  Clay frowned at his computer. “She’s going to hate to discover there’s nothing she can do.”

  “She’s a big girl. She’ll just have to accept it.”

  “Jackie doesn’t ‘just accept’ things.”

  “In this case she’ll have to.”

  Clay stood to get a drink. He saw something red on the ground, picked it up, and frowned. She’d left her scarf. It held her scent. Not the light and fruity scent one would associate with sprites—it was a tangy, spicy aroma like jasmine and orange blossoms, implying a mischief much more carnal than any fairy tale. He crumbled it up and sighed. “She won’t.”

  ***

  Jackie glanced at her watch and swore. She was running late. Brian wouldn’t like that. Brian Croft revered punctuality in all things—when his mail was delivered, when his food was served, when his date arrived. If she hadn’t been thinking about Melanie and her talk with Clay, she would have paid closer attention to the time. She sat on the Metro, urging it to move faster than its regular sleep-inducing lull. She could have taken her car, but parking was dreadful in D.C., especially on a Saturday night. It was only recently she’d been able to fully indulge in D.C.’s reputable nightlife. Before, she had been too busy trying to establish herself, and her most creative date was dinner and a movie.

  Fortunately, Brian had broken that pattern. He’d taken her to events at the Kennedy Center and dinner on the Potomac. He’d taught her about the finer things in life. She glanced down at her stockings and groaned when she noticed a run. Too bad she couldn’t always imitate the finely dressed, coiffured women he was used to. But she would continue to try.

  When she finally reached the restaurant, she was surprised to see Brian with a look of preoccupation instead of his usual harried expression. She walked toward the leather-cushioned booth, curious as to what was on his mind. The pensive gaze gave some personality to his boringly handsome, neat features and trim mustache. At times she still couldn’t believe he’d been dating her for four months.

  She kissed him on the cheek, then sat. “Sorry I’m late. Have you ordered yet?”

  He didn’t meet her eyes. “No.”

  “Good, then we can order together.” She picked up the menu. “What are you going to choose?”

  “I’m getting married.”

  Jackie turned the page
and ran her finger down the selection of pasta. “That sounds good.” She tapped her chin. “Let’s see what I’ll get.”

  He lowered the menu, forcing her to look at him. “Jackie.”

  “Yes?”

  “I said I’m getting married.”

  She stared blankly. “That had better be a euphemism for something else.”

  “It’s not.”

  Her gaze fell back to the menu. “I see.”

  “I know you’re upset.”

  “Upset isn’t the word,” she muttered.

  “But this is for the best. I’m sorry. You’re a great woman, but Darlene and I—”

  “Did you say Darlene?” she cut in, her eyes turning to stone.

  He nodded.

  She snapped the menu shut. “You’re marrying your ex-wife?”

  He glanced around to make sure no one overheard, conscious of his image. “Yes, we both realized that our divorce had been hasty. We are well suited in all the important areas. That’s what counts in a relationship. You and I had fun, but—”

  “I understand.” She grinned bitterly. “Tom drunk, but Tom nuh fool.”

  He scowled. “I hate when you talk that lingo. It’s common and makes no sense. What does that mean?”

  “It means things are not what they seem. I know I’m not as well suited to a man hoping to establish a career in politics. I have no real connections. I’m just a Jamaican immigrant of unknown parentage.” She nodded. “Yes, I understand more than you know.” She took a sip of her water and glanced around the elegant atmosphere. “I also understand why you brought me here.” She placed a finger on the back of his hand and drew little circles. To an outside observer, it looked like a loving gesture; Brian knew it was not. He swallowed, nervous. “It’s to deter me from causing a scene. Such as throwing water on you, smashing a plate of food in your face, or even stabbing you with a fork.” She patted his hand and withdrew. “You’re right. I won’t cause a scene.”

  He visibly relaxed. “I knew you wouldn’t.”

  “No, you didn’t. You just hoped so. I can be so unpredictable.” She lowered her lashes. “I will be expecting an invitation in the mail.”

  “I’m not sure Darlene—”

  Her eyes glittered. “I will be expecting an invitation in the mail for myself and a guest.”

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t cause a scene there either. I only want to be there for this joyous occasion.” She jerked her glass toward him. He jumped. “Good, you’re nervous. That means you have a conscience.”

  “I don’t think you should be too upset. We only dated casually and never even . . .” He let his words trail off, recognizing it wasn’t the proper topic for a dinner conservation.

  “Well, you certainly made me glad of that.”

  “Now, Jackie—”

  “I suggest you stop talking.” She opened her menu and selected an item.

  “Why?”

  “Because you only encourage my desire to cut out your tongue. I believe they serve tongue here. I would love to chop it into little pieces.”

  Brian adjusted his collar.

  The waiter approached the table. “Are you ready to order?”

  Jackie smiled at Brian with freezing disdain. “I hope you brought your gold card. This dinner is going to cost you.”

  ***

  Jackie spent most of Sunday morning running errands. She didn’t want to be at home—she’d only end up thinking about Brian and getting angry. Four months she’d devoted to him and he’d dumped her for a woman he’d married before. It was insulting and humiliating. By late afternoon she was finally forced to return home, and halted when she saw Clay leaving her building. She called out his name. He stopped and turned.

  Jackie greeted him with a smile, oddly glad to see him. “Hi,” she said. “How are you? What are you doing here?”

  “I’m fine. I was just—”

  “I’m glad I caught you.” She raced inside the lobby, then pushed the elevator button. “I’ve been out all day. So do you have something about the case?” The elevator arrived. She stepped in.

  He hesitated, then stepped in also. “No, not yet. Listen, I—”

  Jackie shrugged. “Never mind. I know it will take time. We only met on Friday, right?” She didn’t give him a chance to answer. “Yes, I should remember because Saturday was dreadful. The day was fine, but that night went to hell—but I won’t bore you with the details.” The elevator stopped on her floor.

  Clay grabbed her arm before she got out. “I only came by to give you something.”

  “That’s fine, I’ll take it.” She slipped out of his grip and went to her apartment. “But since you came all this way, you might as well come in. I’m sure you can spare a few moments.” She inserted the key in the lock.

  He glanced at his watch. “Not really. I—”

  “Good. I could use the company.” She opened the door, and flipped on the lights.

  The apartment looked as though it had been ransacked.

  Chapter Two

  The couch cushions lay across the room, frames were shattered with glass scattered on the floor. CDs, videos, and books littered the ground, two side tables lay upside down with their legs in the air like dead cockroaches.

  Clay shoved Jackie behind him with such force that she crashed against the wall. “Stay here.”

  “Relax.” She stepped in front of him “I haven’t been robbed. I did this myself. Brian and I broke up.”

  He surveyed the damage, stunned. “What?”

  She walked over a book and picked up a cushion. “I was upset. He’s marrying his ex-wife.”

  “Upset?” he choked. “Looks like you went mad. Did you foam at the mouth as well?”

  She sent him a sly grin. “Now that you know what I’m capable of will you help me clean it up?”

  “No.”

  “You can stay and watch, then.”

  He headed for the door. “No.”

  Jackie jumped in front of him. “I just need the company, please. You won’t have to clear anything.”

  He sighed fiercely, then took off his jacket. “I’ll stay five minutes.”

  She replaced the cushion on the couch. “Fine.”

  He crossed the small living room, briefly skidding on broken glass, then glanced out the window. “Not a bad neighborhood.”

  “Worried about your car?”

  “Anyone who takes my car would be doing me a favor.” He turned and spotted her curio in the corner. It held an assortment of glass figurines from horses to unicorns, birds to castles to fairies. His mouth kicked up in a quick grin. The touch of whimsy was very fitting.

  She placed the last cushion on the couch. “The couch is back to normal. You can take a seat.”

  Clay did and picked up the remote. “I’m surprised you didn’t kick in the TV.”

  Jackie came out of the kitchen with a broom and duster. “It was tempting.” She swept up the glass. “Can you cook?”

  He sent her a suspicious glance. “Why?”

  “Because you could make lunch while I clean up.”

  “I only know how to cook dinner.”

  “What?”

  “Never mind.” He stood. He was a bit peckish. “I’ll see what’s in the kitchen.”

  “It’s still early, perhaps we could have brunch.”

  Clay raised a knowing brow. “I suppose you have a preference?”

  “I would love Swedish pancakes, but I’d settle for French toast.”

  “Wonderful,” he said sarcastically. “Two meals that take no effort. You like to make a man’s life easy.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with requesting what you like. You know I'll eat whatever you make. I’ll even pretend to like it if it’s horrible.”

  Clay grunted and opened the fridge, pulling out a carton of milk.

  “So why did you come over?” she asked after a few minutes.

  He turned on the stove. “Because I wanted to make one big mistake
this week and I thought I’d start with you.”

  She wagged her finger. “Be nice, little boy, or I'll tell my big brothers on you.”

  Clay knew it was an empty threat, but didn’t want to encourage her to say anything to Drake and Eric about his coming over. “You left your scarf at my office.”

  “Thanks.” She dumped the debris in the trash bin. “That’s odd, though. I don’t usually leave things. Why would I do that? I must have been more distracted than I thought.”

  “Or you like to make me suffer.”

  “It’s a possibility. I enjoy annoying you.”

  “You can congratulate yourself on succeeding.”

  Jackie grinned at his playful tone and watched as he placed a bowl in the sink and turned on the faucet. The simple movement stretched the fabric of his T-shirt, emphasizing his wide shoulders. She’d never looked at Clay as a man before, just as Cassie’s older brother. Now she did. She had to admit, it was a nice view. For a man past forty, he had no right to possess a body that stood over six feet with a tough, lean quality that could give a woman ideas. Not the obvious kind of ideas, something more pervasive, more deceptive, more enticing. He was interesting and that held its own kind of danger. She returned to cleaning, listening to him move about in the kitchen. After a few moments, she said with a note of surprise, “You’re a very comfortable man to be around. Even though your head nearly touches the ceiling. ”