Irresistible Stranger

How you were working for somebody in secret-”

“Sheesh,” he said disgustedly. He popped a cold shrimp in her mouth, handed her a sweating-cold chardonnay, and slipped into the water himself. The lukewarm water hit his battered, knotted muscles like a balm. Still, he turned a scowl her way.

“It’s all right, Griff. Don’t worry. I’m just a lowly teacher. I didn’t understand anything, really.”

“You managed to add two and two and come up with different answers than almost anyone knows around here.”

“Why is it a secret?”

Another reassurance, he thought. She wasn’t just smart. And nosy. She could be downright relentless-so relentless that he couldn’t think of a single way to avoid answering her. “If someone was working on, say, a hopeful new medicine-a drug that could cure a serious type of disease-then that medicine could conceivably be worth a lot of money. So it might make the most sense, security-wise, for the computations and analyses, and all the trick problems associated with mathematically testing the possibilities, to be done off-site. It’s mostly computer work. Calculations, probabilities, that kind of thing. There’s no reason it has to be done in an office or inside company walls. In fact, it’s probably better done in a private facility, where there are no distractions in sight, no one tempted to steal it.” He looked at her. “Particularly if no one has a clue where such work is being done.”

She took a bite of the cracker mounded with caviar, grimaced, gulped down some wine, and aimed for the tray of cheeses. “It’s just hard to grasp,” she admitted. “That your ice-cream parlor is such a front.”

“It’s not a front.” She’d offended him again. Not just because his ice-cream deal was real, but because a “front” implied gangster-type behavior. Like he had something to hide that was wrong.

“Okay, okay, bad choice of words,” she said gently. “It’s still difficult to grasp. You’re so adorable, it’s just really hard to think of you as being geeky. Major geeky.”

Okay. He’d had enough of her playing with him. He’d stuffed down enough food, had quenched his thirst, was de-stressed from the frustrating day. He had more than enough energy to tackle her now. “You said you’d had quite a morning, that something happened…”

“It did.” There, that wicked grin of hers faded out. She leaned her head back, sank in water to her neck. “I talked to Mr. Renbarcker-the man who owned the mill back when?”

He listened-to how she’d managed to discover Webster Renbarcker was in town, how she’d located him, what he’d had to say. He watched her face, watching her expression lift on hearing what a good man her father was, what good care he’d taken of the sick mill owner.

“And that’s just the thing, Griff. Mr. Renbarcker was positive my father would never have set a fire. My dad loved the mill, loved him, loved us. Mr. Renbarcker talked about how my dad was prepared to stay to the end, that he’d socked away a financial safety net… So it doesn’t make sense that my dad felt such despair when the mill closed. He knew it was going to close. He knew how sick Mr. Renbarcker was. There was nothing to throw him into a depression. If anything, he no longer had to feel responsible, but was finally free to go on and do something else.”

By sheer strength of will, Griff refrained from adjusting the shoulder strap of her suit that had accidentally sneaked off her shoulder. On the serious subject at hand though, he felt he had to caution her. “Your dad still could have accidentally set that fire, sugar.”

“Well, the first thing that mattered to me was clearing his name, getting that cloud off his reputation, that he’d be a man who’d set a fire for money. But the second issue, about whether he could have accidentally set it-that’s just a plain no. My dad was a total perfectionist around his wood shop. We girls were never allowed near the varnishes or chemicals. He didn’t have a careless bone in his whole body. There could be no accidental fire, not with my dad.” She sighed, leaned her head back. “But I realize that I can’t prove that.”

“But that’s all right, isn’t it? You didn’t come thinking you’d find information that would lead you to a court of law. I think you came to prove in your own mind what happened. That the fire wasn’t your father’s fault. And it sounds as if you’re doing exactly that.”

“I am. And it couldn’t feel better. I always believed my dad was a hero. That’s what he was, Griff. A terrific man. You’d have liked him, honestly.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

What a night it had turned into. The sucking heat of the day had finally eased. The sky was deepening, darkening. Even the birds had gone silent, and stars buttoned the sky with fancy silver studs. It was a night to romance her, not dwell on troubling subjects…but he liked it that she trusted him enough to talk about this. “Lily, I’m really surprised that you three sisters were separated.”

“There wasn’t a choice. No one could take all three of us.”

“I understand how suddenly adding three children could be a financial burden for a foster family. But I’ve lived here for several years now, long enough to know folks. Even if you had to be separated, fostered in different homes, I’d think an effort would have been made for you to stay in Pecan Valley. Your home. Instead of being shifted all over the country. I’d think normally, that a social service agency or court would think it best to keep you around people who knew you, where you didn’t have to be uprooted from schools and friends and all.”

She considered. “I don’t know. As a little girl, I didn’t think of it as a question. It’s just the way it was. But Sophie and Cate and I all felt the same. Because of that fire, we not only lost our mom and dad, but each other. It was…traumatically lonely. I’m not kidding.”

“I don’t doubt it-and that’s just the point. This is a community that comes together. Yeah, there are weird folks, just like anywhere else. Plenty of problems. But it’s hard for me to believe that the authorities didn’t try and keep you three together.”

“Maybe they did, and I just didn’t know. Anyway, that’s water over the dam. And there’s something else I want to bring up with you.”

“Okay. Shoot.”

“It’s a little…awkward.”

“That’s okay.” He didn’t know what she was going to say, but he was increasingly troubled. Nothing was adding up. There seemed no explanation-or source-for the buzz of gossip blaming Lily for the current fires, for her being “like her dad.” There seemed more and more unanswered questions about the fire from her childhood-and no explanations at all for why there’d been two arson fires since she came back to town.

The more that happened, the more Griff felt he was missing something. That Lily was missing something. And that, if this situation escalated any further, someone could be hurt-or killed, just like in that long-ago fire.

They had to figure out what was going on.

He leaned forward, thinking to turn off the jets of water. They’d both been in the tub long enough to be waterlogged. He was thinking about fires and problems, thinking about what awkward thing she was going to spring on him-when suddenly, in a swoop of water and slick, warm arms, she slid against him. Bared her neck to press her wet, soft lips against his.

An explosion couldn’t have startled him more.

Slinky as a mermaid, she folded herself against him, water lapping the tops of her breasts when she slip-slid onto his lap. Her left hand slowly stroked up his arm, feeling the slope of his shoulders, then sliding around his neck. Her next kiss was a naked offer. An invitation.

His brain was sucked under so fast he couldn’t remember how to breathe. “Hey,” he managed. “What started this?”

“You were frowning,” she said. “And I decided you’d had enough to frown about today.”

“I can’t argue with that.”

“I’m sick of trouble and worrying. I’ve been knee deep since I got here. I’m tired of it.” Her voice didn’t sound remotely tired. She nibbled down his neck as she continued to…discuss.

“Me, too.”

“So I think it would be a good idea to do something that erases all that trouble and stress from our minds.”

He did, too. He’d even had seducing her in mind, if not tonight, then imminently soon. He just didn’t expect… well. His wholesome, fresh-faced teacher was skidding strokes down his chest, through wet hair, over appendix scar, past navel, down, right into his trunks. Her slim hand found him, painted agony down the length of him with her fingertip, then closed around him. Tight. Snug. Owning him.

“Why,” he murmured, “am I worried right now?”