MAD DOG AND ANNIE (20 page)

Did she want him? Or was this her way of saying thank you?

"Okay." He forced his arms to loosen, forced his body to calm. "What was that for?"

Chapter 14

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A
nn closed her eyes, looking defeated. "That was a kiss." Her mouth twisted as she looked back up at him. "Do women only kiss you when they want something?"

Anger licked through him. "Darlin', if you want what most of them want, I'm willing and able." He nudged against her to prove his point, meanly satisfied when her eyes widened. "But a woman as upset as you were generally isn't looking for love two minutes later."

Hot color stormed her face.
Way to be a pig, Palmer.

"What is it?" he asked more gently. "What happened?"

She started to pull away from him, but he wasn't having it. Whatever had made her fall apart in his arms must be big enough that she felt she couldn't handle it alone. And his Annie could handle almost anything.

"Rob?" he guessed.

Her shrug admitted it.

Maddox swore. "Did he call you? Threaten you?"

"He stopped by. It's all right," she said quickly when he stiffened. "It's Mitchell's basketball night, I was expecting him. And I didn't call you because he didn't make a—what did the judge call it?—a specific threat."

Rage roared through him. His hands fisted. He forced them open. Annie had seen enough fists.

"I'll give him a specific threat," he muttered. "What did he want?"

She slipped out of his arms and sat on the couch, folding her own hands in her lap like a good girl. "He said that if I went to court, then he would, too.
That if I kept seeing you, he would seek custody of Mitchell."

"He can't do that."

She looked up, devastation in her eyes. "His lawyer says he can."

"He wouldn't win."

"He might. Concerned father, local football hero, wants to rescue his son from white trash Annie Barclay." She didn't sound bitter, only resigned. "Enough people in Cutler will support him. The judge could be one of them."

Despite his anger, he was afraid she was right. He'd been a cop too long to believe the good guys always won in court. But she didn't need to hear that.

"You might be surprised," he said instead. "No judge is going to buy that the angels presided at his birth. He's a convicted felon now."

She met his eyes straight on. "So am I," she said. "And he'll argue that he can give Mitchell advantages I can't. The judge will believe him. For heaven's sake, I believed him. That's why I married him."

"Yeah, and you divorced him. The guy's an abusive jerk."

Her hands twisted in her lap. "He's still Mitchell's father."

He wanted to shout a denial.
Like she needed him yelling at her on top of everything else.
"And you're his mother," he said as calmly as he could.
"His primary caregiver.
Judges pay attention to stuff like that. Rob is just jerking your chain."

"I can't take that chance."

His jaw hurt. He was clenching it too hard. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Her gaze slid away from his. "I think you investigating Val's case
makes
Rob nervous."

"Are you asking me to stop?"

"No. But—did you find a connection today between Rob and the motel?"

She wasn't going to like what he had to tell her. Hell, he didn't like it himself.

"Not yet." Frustration burned his gut. He wasn't in the habit of sharing with civilians. But this was Annie. It was her lead.
Her friend.
And at this point he couldn't let her hang false hopes on his police work. "Nobody could give me a positive ID. Maybe when I get a photo, it will jog somebody's memory. The manager doesn't remember if Rob was there last summer or not, the desk clerk wouldn't know him if he saw him, and the cleaning woman is new."

"What about records? You said there might be receipts—"

Maddox shook his head. "I got a subpoena for the motel's charge records from a year ago, but they'll take a while to wade through. My guess is he paid with cash he stole from the restaurant, anyway."

"I'm sorry you've had a wasted day."

He didn't want her sympathy. He didn't deserve it. Not when he had nothing to offer her in return.

"I wouldn't say wasted," he drawled. "So far I've pushed the lab for enough evidence to incriminate Con MacNeill and pressured your ex-husband into threatening you. Not bad for a day's work."

"You'll turn up something," she said with quiet faith. "There has to be something."

He didn't deserve her trust, either. He'd done nothing to earn the warm feeling that caught his chest when she looked at him with those big green eyes like he was damn Dick Tracy. This investigation was a disaster.
But telling her that wouldn't do a lot to help her peace of mind.

He rubbed the back of his neck.
"Yeah.
Something."

"You should get some sleep."

Tenderhearted Annie.
He didn't want sleep. He wanted her. He wanted to tail her to her room and see if she made up her bed with flowered sheets. He bet she did. He wanted to tuck her in and hold her close until the tension leaked from her shoulders. He wanted the stuff that came after that, too, wanted to feel her warm and wet and welcoming over him, around him, while he moved and she moved and her soft hair touched his face.

But he wasn't going to get what he wanted.
Nothing new there.
Not the sex and not the chance to come home at the end of the day and find himself in her smile. Though maybe… If he stayed in Cutler, did he have a shot at making it with her?

He frowned. Never mind that. Annie was exhausted. Her mouth drooped. Her eyes were shadowed. And there was no way in hell he could picture her inviting him up for an invigorating bounce on her bed while her boy slept down the hall.

So, it was the couch again.

Maddox sighed and looked around for the blankets he'd folded and stashed last night.

She pressed her lips together.
Trouble?

"What?" he demanded.

"I told you," she said with difficulty. "People are talking. I can't risk talk. I can't risk anything that Rob can use against me, and he doesn't like it that we're … close."

Not the couch, after all.
The car.

"So, how far away do you figure will satisfy him?" Maddox asked.
"The driveway?
The curb?
Across the street?"

Her silence reproached him.

Damn.

He tried to make a joke of it. "Maybe I'll knock on your neighbor's door, ask to use the bathroom. That should convince them I'm not sleeping over."

Her mouth was set. Her eyes were miserable. This was getting them nowhere.

He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "Kiss me," he said.

That woke a flash of spirit. Her chin came back up.
"What for?"

He made himself grin at her wickedly. "Do you only kiss me when you want something?"

Her answering smile started in her eyes. "I guess I want what all those other women want. But I'm not going to get it tonight."

Her frank regret stirred him more than the most practiced come-on.

"Kiss me good-night, then," he said hoarsely.

She did, wrapping her arms around him, pressing up tight against him, giving him a taste of her tears and her warmth and her sweetness. And he kissed her and hungered for her and cursed Rob Cross.

"Sleep well," she whispered.

"Sweet dreams," he replied.

He didn't sleep well. He hardly slept at all, and his dreams, when they came, were wild and heated. He woke up sweaty and stiff, and his condition had nothing to do with spending the night in his car and everything to do with Annie.

* * *

He'd parked across the street again.

The sight of his battered blue sedan keeping silent, stubborn vigil lured Ann to her window again and again. Peeking through the ruffled curtains the next morning, she felt like some boy-crazy sixth grader spying on a crush.

She bit her lip. Really, she ought to march out there and tell Maddox
that
fifteen feet of asphalt was not likely to discourage the gossips.

But she didn't. Instead she stood and
watched,
her pulse loud in her ears, as he got slowly out of the car. He must be stiff. He rolled his shoulders beneath his wrinkled uniform shirt, and her breath jammed in a helpless confusion of lust and concern. He leaned against the hood of his car. Even from a distance she could see how his dark slacks pulled across his powerful thighs.

She thought of touching him there and everywhere and blushed alone in her bedroom. She would like that, she realized. Even he would like it. And she smiled with a delicious and unfamiliar confidence, hugging her arms as if to hold in a precious secret. Who would have guessed that plain, thin, awkward Annie Barclay would be dreaming of sex with Mad Dog Palmer?

It was as if by giving himself to her—his big square hands and hot solid body, his patience and whispered praise—he'd restored a part of
herself
. For that alone she was grateful to him.

Ann leaned against the cool wood of the window frame, watching as he ran a hand through his thick, short hair and resettled his hat on his head. Well, all right, more than grateful. Gratitude was too lukewarm to describe her feelings for Maddox. She admired his staunch acceptance of responsibility, his stubborn determination to protect and serve. She appreciated his strict control and dry humor. She liked the woman she saw reflected in his eyes, a strong woman,
a
competent woman … a woman who was dangerously close to falling in love with the man.

Panic formed a lump in her throat. She knew better. Really she did. She wasn't turning control of her heart, her future and her son over to another man ever again.
Even a man like Maddox.

She swallowed hard, and the panic retreated halfway down her chest.

It was okay, she told herself. Maddox hadn't asked for control. He wasn't asking for more than her body. He wasn't asking for more than two weeks.

And she wanted those two weeks, wanted to be with him more than she wanted anything except to keep her son safe. For as long as she could have him, she wanted Maddox.

And to get him, she needed to do something to thwart Rob's threats.

* * *

She carried his coffee out to him in both hands like an offering. Which, Ann supposed, it was.

As she started down the short concrete walk, she saw Dorothy Hicks pause outside her one-story bungalow, her robe clutched closed and her mouth hanging open.

Maddox scooped up the woman's morning newspaper and handed it to her, saying something that sent the older lady scuttling back inside.

Ann crossed the street. "What was that all about?" Maddox scowled, looking disgruntled and dear. "I told the old snoop I wasn't watching your house. I was staking out hers."

Ann fought a smile and lost. "Oh, that should stop the neighbors talking."

"Damn fools."

"It's this town," she said, handing him the mug. "If you parked twenty miles away and I wore a chastity belt, somebody would still swear I was stuck on you." She waited a beat before adding deliberately, "And they'd be right."

He gulped hot coffee.
Grimaced.
"You picked a hell of a time to mention it."

She sighed. "I picked a hell of a time to let it happen."

"Because of Mitchell," he said tightly.

"Because of the custody issue.
Yes."

He nodded once. His eyes were bleak. She touched his arm.

"It's all right," she said softly. "I know you're doing everything you can."

"Yeah."
His jaw worked. Whatever he did, she knew he wouldn't consider it enough. But he didn't say that, because he didn't want to worry her. His determined honesty, his dogged consideration, pressed on her tender heart like fingers on a bruise.

She propped next to him against the hood of the car, very conscious of the cold metal beneath her, and his hip warm beside her.

"Will you talk to Con today?" she asked.

He nodded. "I need to establish his alibi, so Rob's defense can't claim the police didn't do our job."

"I want to help," she said.

He gave her one of his dark, hooded looks. "Then take care of yourself. Stay at the restaurant with Val today."

She angled her chin. She was flattered, touched, seduced by his concern.
But not to the point of putting herself under police surveillance.
"It's my half day.
Ten to two.
But I'll be all right. Rob will be at his office."

"It could be dangerous."

"I don't think so. He's threatening me with a custody hearing now. He's not going to risk me calling the police."

"I don't like it," Maddox said flatly. "Why don't you put in a couple extra hours at the restaurant until I can bring you and Mitchell home?"