Distinguished Service & Every Move You Make (Uniformly Hot!) Read online

  Only neither Newsome nor his contractors had anticipated he’d shoot the wrong gun at the wrong time.

  Even if it had been at the right person.

  The familiar phone number Mace had found at the motel had been the private contact number to Norman’s head of security.

  Meaning Newsome had been directly hired to perform a job. And if Mace was right, and he fully believed he was, Norman’s men had arranged for the attempts against Norman. Why? Most likely to boost his national ratings and perhaps put him on the short list of presidential candidates for the next election.

  Hell, for all he knew, Norman himself was behind the ruse.

  Unfortunately for them, they’d done it under Mace’s watch and two men were injured; he wasn’t about to let this one slide. While he didn’t expect to pin anything on Norman himself, Newsome’s capture and the gossip that was sure to leak—he’d see to it—would be enough of a damaging bruise to give him a permanent limp when it came to any future political plans.

  And Newsome himself would be out of commission. If not literally, figuratively, because he was now solidly on the radar, no longer operating in the shadows. And Mace intended to keep him that way.

  He found himself checking his cell phone. Still nothing from Geneva.

  He rubbed his face and nodded at where the police detective who’d allowed him access to the suspect held up three fingers, indicating his time was almost up. He hadn’t fooled himself into believing for a second that he’d get Newsome to talk. Men like him were born without tongues. But it was enough for him to know he’d cracked the case, even if he hadn’t been under any obligation to do so.

  He was nobody’s fool.

  His cell phone vibrated. He took it out and checked it. He knew a spark of hope when he read he had a text from Geneva.

  Take care of yourself…

  A part of him stung at the obvious goodbye.

  But a bigger part of him knew any contact at all was a good thing.

  Even if she believed he was on that transport and couldn’t follow up on it.

  Especially because she believed he was on that transport.

  Without another word, he passed Newsome and rapped on the security door.

  He was done here.

  * * *

  THE ART OF MASS DISTRACTION.

  Geneva hadn’t mastered it. But it was proving to be helpful in at last getting her off the couch and at least appearing to be normal, although she felt anything but.

  She’d considered calling in sick for the brunch crowd, but decided engaging in some sort of activity that didn’t include a great deal of thinking would help.

  Of course, she’d completely forgotten the smiling part.

  That combined with her paleness, due to lack of sleep and eating, had garnered her more than a few unwelcome inquiries regarding her health and that of the baby.

  But each had been easily avoided…or maybe it was her uncommunicativeness that had kept people at bay, no matter how well-meaning.

  Now, nearly twelve hours later after a long, busy day, she felt sufficiently tired enough to sleep. And she’d forced herself to eat at least a little on two occasions.

  The best thing was she hadn’t cried.

  Well, except for that one time when Trudy had shown her the photo of Mace accepting his Navy Cross that was featured in the local news section of the newspaper.

  She’d rushed to the bathroom and stayed in a stall for fifteen minutes. After ten, Tiffany had surprised her by sticking a box of tissues under the door and asking if there was anything she could do. The demonstration of human kindness from someone who seemed to operate on a deficit of it had been enough to help her rebalance herself and get back to the diner floor.

  Now, however, it was after ten and the last customer had finally departed, leaving her and Trudy and Mel. She bussed the final table then went back into the kitchen, saying something to Mel as she went. Only he wasn’t there. And he appeared to have left entirely—his grill jacket hanging neatly on its wall hook—without saying goodbye.

  That was odd.

  She peered out the window looking for Trudy. “Everything okay with Mel?” she asked.

  No answer.

  She frowned, not finding Trudy either.

  Doubly odd.

  She leaned her hands against the counter and closed her eyes. They had probably said goodnight, but she was so out of it, she hadn’t registered it.

  She reached behind her to untie her apron when she heard the strains of a familiar song: B17.

  She left her apron untied and rushed into the other room.

  “Please, no, don’t play that.”

  Her words trailed off as she found herself staring at the last person in the world she expected to see.

  Mace…

  * * *

  “SHOULDN’T THAT BE ‘Please, mister, please’?”

  Mace’s throat was so tight, his mouth so dry at the sight of Geneva looking pale but beautiful, being close enough to touch her again, he was surprised he could think the words much less say them.

  She looked like she was caught between fight or flight, a delay likely brought on by her obvious tiredness, which Trudy had mentioned when he’d asked her to empty the place so he could talk to Geneva privately, promising to close up.

  “Don’t keep her too long. Girl needs some good, solid rest…and not just for herself,” Trudy had said.

  There had been more in her stern stare, but she’d kept any other advice to herself and agreed to do as he asked. He took that as a further good sign he was doing the right thing.

  His gaze went to Geneva’s still-flat belly and the way the open apron hung from her, giving the illusion of fullness that hinted at what she might look like in the next few months…which was stunning. In the best possible way.

  He was amazed he’d allowed fear to rule his actions, however briefly. But having a child in his life, well, it wasn’t a contingency for which he’d ever prepared.

  He only wished he could have muddled through it with Geneva rather than let it chase him away from her, cause her the pain he even now viewed as smudges under her unusually bright eyes.

  He knew he only had a few more seconds before she fled. But the words he wanted to say to her scrambled like mice into the corner now that he was standing before her.

  “I deserve to be taken to the woodshed and given a few good whacks,” he said quietly even as the song played.

  She remained silent.

  The song ended and she looked toward the jukebox. He still had two additional selections to make.

  “No,” she said quietly. “Both of us are to blame.”

  Blame?

  His stomach pitched five feet below floor level. Was there no hope of her forgiving him? Of grabbing what they were feeling and seeing where it took them?

  Was she determined that they were over?

  God, he hoped not.

  “I prefer to think we’re both to credit.”

  That brought her gaze back to him and he glimpsed a spark of hope in her eyes that nearly knocked him to his knees.

  He couldn’t resist going to her, enveloping her in his arms, a place he had feared he’d never have her again, a place he wanted to keep her forever.

  “I’ve been so very, very stupid, Geneva,” he whispered into her ear, breathing in the scent of her, absorbing her warmth and sweetness and wanting her so completely he ached with it. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m sorry for ever having hurt you.”

  He made out her unwitting, soggy reply and drew back, holding her head still in his hands.

  “Please, do you think you can ever find a way to forgive me?”

  Thankfully she gazed back into his eyes rather than trying to avoid them.


  “You…” he began, searching for words. No, he didn’t have to search. They were all right there. It was choosing the right ones when there were really no wrong ones.

  Damn. Why did this have to be so hard?

  “You, Geneva, are incredible.” She was that squared. “You’re the most amazing woman, no, person I’ve ever met.” He’d never uttered anything truer. “You’re smart and funny, beautiful and thoughtful…” He swallowed hard. “And sexier than hell. Not a moment goes by that I don’t want to make love with you, bury myself deep inside you…”

  She cleared her throat. “That’s sex. It’ll pass…”

  He slowly shook his head. “No, that’s not sex. Sex we can get anywhere. This…” He rubbed his thumbs against her soft skin. “This is about so much more. And you know it.”

  “Do I? I’m not so sure…”

  “If it was just about sex, you would have let me into your apartment last night so we could have some.”

  He glimpsed a shadow of a smile. “Maybe I was tired.”

  “Maybe you were hurting because of something stupid I said or did, which further demonstrates this is…”

  “Shh…” She put her hand over his mouth, effectively hushing him.

  When he remained silent, she moved her fingers to trail along his cheek.

  “It appears I’m not the only one who got hurt…” she said.

  He smiled sadly at that. “Yeah. Call me a coward, but I’d take a full-on assault from an entire enemy battalion over how I’ve felt the past two days. Any time.”

  Her eyes softened.

  “Tell me, Geneva. Is that just sex?”

  She didn’t respond immediately. Finally, she shook her head.

  He drew her close again and she sighed against him. He couldn’t help feeling like the luckiest guy ever born. Not only because she was in his arms, but because she was giving him another chance. And he was determined not to blow it this time.

  “Shouldn’t you be somewhere in the Middle East right now?” she whispered, her hands trailing up and down his back, her cheek resting on his shoulder.

  He took a deep breath. “Probably. But I figured if I had to accept that medal, well, I’d be damned if I didn’t cash it in for something important.”

  She drew back to look at him. “What do you mean?”

  He smoothed his hands over her hair then held her still as he leaned in for a kiss. She kissed him back.

  “It means I’m not going anywhere. Not today…” He kissed her. “Not tomorrow.” He kissed her again. “Not the day after that.” He kissed her again. “I’m going to serve out my remaining six months here. Then I’m going to sign on with Darius at Lazarus…”

  She looked confused. “I don’t understand…”

  Holding her gaze, he leaned in again for another kiss. “You will, Geneva. You will.” He backed her up toward the jukebox and made his selection while maintaining his hold on her. Elvis’s rendition of “Fools Rush In” began playing.

  “Now,” he whispered into her ear. “Tell me you love me.”

  He trapped her gasp in her mouth by kissing her.

  “Tell me…”

  He kissed her again until he felt her shiver and sigh against him.

  “I love you…”

  Her words were barely audible, but they were enough to make him feel like he’d been propelled into the stratosphere.

  He smiled at her and her answering smile caused something monumental to shift within him.

  “May I have this dance, Geneva Davis?”

  “Yes, Mace Harrison, you may.”

  As he gently swayed with her close to him, his mind filling with doing much more, he hoped the dance lasted for a long, long time, indeed….

  * * * * *

  Every Move You Make

  This one’s for all our Texan friends!

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Epilogue

  Excerpt

  Prologue

  WHAT WAS SHE THINKING?

  Jennifer Rodriquez Madison balanced the phone between her chin and shoulder while she wildly wrote notes with one hand and stuffed a cracker into her mouth with the other, trying like crazy to do the work of three people. She was afraid she was not only failing, but failing miserably. She eyed the agitated potential new client talking nonstop in front of her desk, then felt her heart squeeze as she glanced at her crying infant in the portable crib next to her.

  When both Ralph Budnick and Roy Morales of Budnick and Morales Private Investigations retired, Jennifer saw their departure as an opportunity of a lifetime. Of course she’d taken the fact that she was newly married and about to have a baby completely for granted.

  Now that the baby was three months old and Jen was back at the outside office, instead of working in the comfort of her home office, she was terrified that her decision to take on the company alone would be the death of her.

  The cowbell on the front door clanged. Jennifer spared the latest visitor enough of a glance to notice he was tall, gorgeous and about as welcome at that moment as a deadly virus. “If you’re here for an ongoing investigation, or looking to hire us for a new one,” she told him, “I’m going to have to ask you to come back at another time.”

  She blindly found Annie’s pacifier, where it was attached by a length of yarn to the front of her jumpsuit, and popped it into her mouth. Annie instantly spit it out and continued vying for the “most neglected baby of the year” award.

  “So are you going to take my case or not?” the woman in front of her desk asked, tapping red fingernails against an alligator-skin purse Jennifer suspected was real. “A friend of mine recommended your agency to me.” She looked around, disdain written on her well made-up face. “But seeing what I have so far, I can’t imagine why.”

  Jennifer bristled and moved the silent receiver to her other ear, hoping the client she had on hold wouldn’t hang up as she waited out someone else who had put her on hold. She absently realized that the tall stranger who had entered hadn’t left. “You’re right, Mrs. McCabe. Maybe we’re not equipped to handle cases like you’re describing. Have you ever thought of actually asking your husband if he’s being unfaithful?”

  “What kind of question is that?” Mrs. McCabe asked. Her carefully painted face had turned red.

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. A commonsense one? And definitely a step up from hiring an attractive, flirty woman to entrap him at a country club.”

  The woman scoffed.

  The stranger moved out of Jennifer’s eyeshot and almost instantly Annie quieted. Jennifer swiveled to find him hesitantly tickling the fussy infant. He gave Jennifer a sheepish grin that made her blink then began to pull his hand back. With a loud cry, Annie let her thoughts on the matter be known. Jennifer couldn’t blame her daughter. She’d much rather have a great-looking guy tickling her, too.

  “May I?” the stranger asked, indicating he’d like to pick Annie up.

  Let’s see, a choice between earsplitting screams and a happy baby? Jennifer gestured for him to go ahead. She watched as he awkwardly lifted her up and held her at arm’s length, staring at her as curiously as Annie stared back. Jen opened her mouth to tell him to support her head, then the stranger awkwardly but successfully held Annie to
his wide chest. He wore a coffee-colored suit that had Northerner written all over it, and he had the type of handsome good looks that would have turned her head before she had stumbled into Ryan’s life for a case she was working on and had her own life turned upside down.

  “Who are you and what do you want?” Jennifer asked him, thinking it a pretty good guess that he hadn’t popped up out of the blue to help her with her unhappy daughter.

  Maybe Ryan was right about what he had said that morning. He’d tried to convince her to keep working out of the house so that they could, um, pursue their personal interests as well as her business interests. He had also said she had bitten off a little more than she could chew. She sat up straighter, merely thinking the words making her feel combative. His overprotective tendencies both endeared him to her and irritated her. And those tendencies had quadrupled with the birth and his adoption of little Annie.

  Of course Ryan was easily sidetracked if need be. A scrap of sexy lingerie and he was putty in her hands.

  Jennifer’s mind began to drift to all things sexy and hot but she forced herself to concentrate on the matter at hand.

  “I’m Zach Letterman,” the visitor said with a midwestern accent, a smile softening his striking features as he looked into Annie’s face.

  “Is there another agency you could recommend?” Mrs. McCabe was saying insistently, making no secret that she found the intrusion insulting. “Someone who can handle the type of case I’m proposing?”

  Letterman, Letterman, Jennifer thought, trying to place the name.

  Another telephone line rang, only adding to the general state of chaos. She sighed and rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry, Mrs. McCabe, but as you can see, I’m very busy right now. If you’d like to leave your card, I’ll contact you later with any possibilities I come up with.”

  Jennifer’s gaze was again pulled to the stranger.

  He quietly cleared his throat. “Lily recommended me to you.”

  “Lily?”

  “The job opening?” He grinned at her and she widened her eyes at the megawatt smile. “Looks like you could certainly use a hand around here.”