Rescue Me (5 page)

I loved romance shows like
The Bachelor
and
The Newlywed Game
, but my favorite was reruns of the old-fashioned
Dating Game.
Such anticipation waiting for the verdict: “I pick bachelor number . . .”

—FEMALE BOXER, FOUR YEARS OLD, SHELTER #S75230

O
H. GOD.

Was AJ about to kiss her?

Mary Hannah stared into his intense blue eyes, wondering if the heated intent was real or an illusion from the dash lights. She should just open the door, get the hell out of his messy all-terrain vehicle where these even messier emotions were jumbling up inside her. She would hop the gate to the Second Chance Ranch and run all the way to her studio apartment.

But she couldn't seem to make her hands let go of the edge of the seat.

Her senses had gone on overload, from the feel of the rough upholstery against her palms to breathing in the lemony scent of the air freshener with every gasping breath.

This whole Christmas Eve had been so upside down. She clenched the seat harder to resist the impulse to pull his beard-stubbled face toward her and make that kiss happen all the sooner.

“AJ, the security code is five-seven-three-two.” She angled away to lean against the door. “We should hurry. Lacey will need my help getting ready for Sierra and Mike's visit. They're due in anytime now, if they aren't here already.”

God, she was babbling like an idiot. Of course AJ would know that Lacey's daughter and son-in-law were due in tonight. And he likely knew why she was babbling.

He stared back at her silently for so long she thought he might ignore her words and kiss her anyway. She didn't even question for a second that the kiss would be explosive, powerful. Satisfying. She knew from experience.

She also knew she wouldn't be able to resist, and if she crossed that line with him as Mary Hannah—rather than Francesca—everything would get so damn complicated. She needed simple. Her sanity depended on it. Order helped her conquer the daily battle against addiction.

She couldn't afford even a kiss from this man.

Before she could have second thoughts, she leaned across him and lowered the window. The heat of his whipcord strength against her was tempting, melting through her like cotton candy on the tongue. She punched the security code in with extra force and sank back into her seat.

God, her heart was drumming in her ears.

She ground her teeth and willed the gate to open faster so she could . . . what? Hurry to her lonely studio apartment with her sad little tabletop tree and perfectly lined up nativity figures? A minute ago the place sounded like a haven. Now, not so much. How strange to suddenly feel so alone when she lived in a place full of people and animals.

The old Harvester Scout jostled along the dirt road leading to the white farmhouse where Lacey lived. A spotlight shone on a sign that read
Second Chance Ranch Rescue
. Garlands were draped along the top of that new sign, a part of the rescue's expansion over the past year and a half. Lacey had bought an extra acre when some cranky neighbors moved. She'd expanded fences to take in horses as well but rented out that cabin next door to AJ for extra cash to fund her rescue.

How different her life would be right now if she'd realized the guy she picked up at a truck-stop bar was the new tenant Lacey had been talking about.

Last summer when he'd moved in, the leaves on the trees had blocked her view of his home an acre away. But recently, through the icy skeletal branches, sometimes late at night she could see the lights glowing in his place, reminding her she wasn't the only one who had trouble sleeping. Avoiding each other was tough enough in a small town. Damn near impossible when they lived next door and shared a landlord.

Silently, AJ drove past Lacey's house to the red barn that housed many of the rescue's animals. Lights lined the edges of the roof thanks to Lacey's teenage son. Earlier this week a preschool class had come by and built snow cats and snow pups around the fenced play yard before feeding the animals treats.

Mary Hannah grabbed the door handle as the vehicle stopped near the outdoor stairway leading to her apartment. Best to pretend the almost kiss hadn't happened. “Thank you again for the ride.”

Her feet hit the hard-packed ice, and she held on to the open door for balance. She refused to be disappointed AJ didn't say a word to stop her.

Then he was there in front of her, having moved from his side of the vehicle in a smooth flash. He held the puppy-paw blanket rolled up in his fist. “You'll probably go by the shelter before I will and can return this.”

She took the cotton throw, the warmth of his hand clinging to the fabric.

“Thanks.” She wrapped the blanket around her shoulders again. “And, uh, Merry Christmas.”

“It's been a memorable one for sure.” He took her elbow without asking and steadied her past those lopsided snow kitties and snow pups, toward the steps leading to her place. A sled was propped up against a post at the base, caked in ice as if encouraging her to relax, to play.

His boots crunched with evenly paced strides. “Now that we've declared this truce, how do we get Lacey and Wyatt to back off with the matchmaking?”

“I wish I knew the answer to that. Lacey has done so much to help me, I'm not really sure how to make her understand without telling her everything and I just can't.” She shook her head.

“Wyatt and Lacey seem to think everyone should be as giddy as they are—”

“Giddy? That's just not a word I would expect you to use.” Her nervousness over that almost kiss made her latch on to the small thought. There was so much about him that confused her.

“When have we talked enough for you to form an opinion of my word choices?”

“That's my point. You haven't struck me as the chatty sort.” Yet he'd spoken to her quite a lot today, mixing up that irritability with surprising concern and humor. “You seem like more of the grunt-and-point kind of guy.”

“I thought counselors were supposed to be nonjudgmental.” He stopped at the foot of the outdoor staircase, blocking the path upward.

“I thought cops were supposed to . . .”

“What?”

The one word puffed into the cold air between them, launching goose bumps along her flesh that had nothing to do with the freezing temperatures.

She sagged back against the barn wall. “Hell, I don't have a witty comeback.”

“Seriously.” A smile tucked one dimple into his cheek. “That's it?”

She nodded, hugging the blanket closer, her hair turning chilly from the last bits of dampness. “Blame it on the aftereffects of meth fumes and the adrenaline surge from the danger.”

“Thank you again for coming to my rescue earlier. The way you handled that dog and the whole operation was impressive. I imagine that will be all the talk around the station, how you saved my bacon,” he said without the least hint of concern or ego she would have expected from her ex-husband.

That quick the thought of Ted blindsided her too close to that almost kiss with AJ earlier by the gate. She needed to retreat upstairs, into her home. Alone. Because right now being by herself didn't sound sad and scary anymore. It sounded like a sanctuary from the mixed feelings that being with AJ inspired.

“Thank
you
for the ride home. We can call it even.” She thrust out her hand to shake his. “Merry Christmas, AJ.”

He clasped her fingers and tugged ever so slightly. “Merry Christmas, Mary Hannah.”

He leaned in and for a heart-stopping instant she thought he was going to kiss her after all. At the last second, he veered up and pressed his mouth to her forehead. Such a simple kiss, but the warm press of his lips on her skin felt damn good. Her eyes slid closed and she swayed, willing him to put his arms around her so she wouldn't have to ask.

Except he didn't. He angled back and the cold night air swept over her. She scrambled for something—anything—to say to fill that awkward space between them.

“Did I miss out spotting the mistletoe?” she asked breathlessly.

“That had nothing to do with the holiday.” His hands fell to rest on her shoulders.

His behavior was giving her whiplash. Frustrated desire made her edgy—hell, downright cranky. “I thought we agreed to ignore the matchmakers.”

“Believe me, I'm not thinking about Wyatt or Lacey right now.”

Then what was he doing? What kind of game was he playing?

She rested her hands on his chest, needing distance between them. “You're seeing me as Francesca, and I'm not. This is me, paisley and buttoned-up, an OCD girl. Let it go, AJ. I'm not interested.”

He backed away from her, his eyes staying locked on her the whole time with that dark intensity as he whispered, “One of the benefits of being a cop for so long? I can tell when people are lying.”

His wink sent a shiver up her spine. Then he walked back to his car, tucked behind the wheel and drove back up the long driveway, red taillights glowing. She blinked and the lights were gone.

Grabbing the stair railing, she hauled herself up the steps faster than was wise. She would be keeping her eyes off that window tonight.

*   *   *

AJ GUNNED THE
engine, his Scout threatening to spin out on the ice as he left those lumpy snow kitties and snow pups behind.

He'd meant that forehead kiss to set a new tone of friendship. A symbol of their truce. Instead, what should have been a platonic peck had knocked him on his ass. He could still smell the hint of peppermint that would always remind him of her.

Damn. Just damn it. He accelerated away from the barn and sprawling fat oak trees, naked branches glinting with ice. He sped back up the drive until the lights along the front porch dimmed with distance.

With each mile away, he knew the distance and time wouldn't help. He still wanted her. Didn't have a clue how to stop. He just needed to figure out what the hell he intended to do about it. Preferably before he saw her again.

Which, given the fact that they were neighbors, would undoubtedly be soon.

The town lights grew brighter and closer. His day was far from done. He still needed to check in at the station. Theirs was a small police department. As much as he wanted to leave the memories of his undercover work behind, he couldn't avoid responsibilities. His experience in the world of illegal narcotics trafficking would be valuable.

He owed it to that little kid under the bed in Atlanta holding a pink sippy cup full of drain cleaner from a meth lab. The child he'd thought might one day be his daughter—Aubrey. He'd foolishly believed Sheila meant it when she'd said she wanted out of the gang and that she wanted to build a better life for her daughter. With him.

Like a total sap, he'd been so certain she was legit since Sheila hadn't known she was speaking to a cop. He'd been undercover, and while he'd hated lying to her, he'd known maintaining his cover was the best way to keep her safe. He'd fallen for her, never once suspecting that she was telling the worst lie of all.

The lie of an addict. Lying to herself.

Sheila had gone to jail for possession and child endangerment. Aubrey had gone into foster care. He'd used every contact he had to keep track of the toddler until a distant relative petitioned to adopt her. That should have eased the roaring in his head.

No such luck. Until one night he'd almost gotten his partner shot by hesitating because a woman with a gun looked like Sheila.

That made the decision to accept Wyatt's offer a no-brainer.

It wasn't like Mary Hannah reminded him of Sheila. They couldn't be any more different. Other than the fact they both interfered with his ability to think straight.

He needed to wrap up this case, lock away those responsible for the meth lab and send the animals on their way to homes. No more wounded eyes haunting him.

And after that?

It was time to accept he wanted to sleep with Mary Hannah even more than he wanted Francesca.

*   *   *

MARY HANNAH KNELT
beside the Santa statue by her door and scooped up her house key. Her hand still trembled, goose bumps as real as the memory of a simple sorta kiss. Her very fertile imagination filled with images of them tangled up in stark white motel sheets and a polyester spread, of him sinking inside her. Of
her
sinking her teeth into his shoulder.

She rested her forehead against the slick door.

“Mary Hannah?”

She turned so quickly she almost slipped on the ice before she grabbed the handrail. Holding tight, she looked down at Lacey McDaniel stepping out of the mudroom door of the main house.

“Lacey? You startled me.”

“Sorry about that.” Lacey stepped the rest of the way outside, crystal wineglass in hand and a three-legged Lab loping after her. “I just wanted to see how everything went finishing up at the shelter.”

“They're all settled.” She started down the stairs. “All we can do is wait on the temperament tests and the police legalese.”

Lacey picked her way through the snow wearing fuzzy bedroom slippers and a cardigan that kept slipping off her shoulder. Her caramel curls were gathered up in a loose bundle that always looked ready to explode but somehow never slipped free. She was quirky, no question, but she was a strong woman. She'd not only survived the loss of her husband, but she took care of her aging father-in-law and a teenage son and oversaw this operation that saved so many lives.

Mary Hannah admired her on more levels than she could count.

Lacey hugged her cardigan tighter and met Mary Hannah at the foot of the steps. “Sorry I wasn't of more help today.”

“You have family responsibilities. Everyone understands.” She rubbed the corner of the blanket between two fingers and thought of AJ draping it around her shoulders. “It's a lot to take on with the Valentine competition coming up. I'm here to help. So no more apologies.”