Connecting Strangers (Discovering Emily) Page 2

  His eyebrows rose, thick and luscious over those hazel eyes that melt into me. “You always make it a habit of lying to the police?”

  “It was a deserted road, and I wouldn’t be the first woman to not place her trust fully in the police department.”

  He relaxed against the booth, a smile curving the corners of his full lips. Perfect lips. “Usually when someone doesn’t trust the police, they have a reason not to. Do you have a reason not to, Emily Murdoch?”

  I white-knuckle my coffee mug. “Isn’t there somewhere you need to be? Some patrol you need to be on?” There’s enough snap in my voice to warn him I wasn’t answering any more questions. I’d be rude if it meant getting him off my scent.

  “Actually, I just went off duty.” He jerks his chin toward my half-finished plate of eggs. “And that’s beginning to look good. I’ll join you if you don’t mind.”

  “You already have.” My jaw hurts because I’m gritting my teeth so tightly. The last thing I want, need, is to get close to someone working for Mark. And I don’t doubt for a moment this sheriff is on Mark’s father’s payroll.

  Ike Metzger thinks his son can do no wrong, even if he spends most of his paycheck on booze. And the man is rolling in the dough left over from his own father’s estate. Ike had suggested Mark move back home, but Mark isn’t about to show his father what kind of ass the alcohol turns him into.

  “Refill on your coffee, hon?” Francine appears out of nowhere, holding a carafe aloft. I didn’t even see her take it with her when she left. Guess she wanted a reason to return to the table. “Emily?” The liquid is poised over my coffee cup.

  My heart is slamming so fast against my ribcage I can barely hear her. I only know I have to get out of the diner. Fast. “No. Thank you.” I slide out of the booth and move very calmly to the checkout counter. Francine knows I can’t pay for the meal. I see it in her eyes, but she’d said it was on the house. I take her at her word and offer her the change for the coffee.

  Francine closes her hand around mine. “Don’t worry about it. You just come on back tomorrow morning for breakfast if you’d like.” She tilts her head to one side. “It looks to me like you could use a friend.” Her voice remains low so that the words reach my ears only.

  My eyes sting, and I find myself wanting to open up to her, tell her everything. Which is a very dangerous idea with the sheriff right behind me. Instead, I nod and head toward the door. . A hand reaches out in front of me to push it open. I don’t need to look to know who the gentleman is.

  “I’ll walk you out.” Not a suggestion. A statement I can’t say no to.

  I’d parked my car close to the door. Knowing how very little gas I have left in the tank, I head to the driver’s door anyway as though I have every intention of driving away.

  “So where are you actually from, Emily?”

  I sigh as the deep voice washes over me like a warm hand down my spine. I shouldn’t be thinking anything except how very far I can get away from him. Instead, my mind is conjuring images of those sinful lips hovering close to mine. That tells me how very far I need to run.

  “Does it matter?” I open the car door, but the sheriff closes it. I look up, and his face is close to mine again.

  “Yeah. It does.” He’s near enough for me to smell him now. It’s a warm, vibrant scent and jolts my system like a shot of whiskey I haven’t had in a long time.

  “Why?” My breath whispers out, fogging in the cold night air. He’s too close, and I start to fidget, needing to keep my hands busy so they won’t grab hold of his shirt. Because that’s what they want to do. Draw him closer. So I can inhale his scent. Taste his skin.

  My mouth goes dry, and I fumble with the door handle behind me. Desperation makes my hands useless. I can’t be feeling this way, thinking these things.

  “I’m not sure yet.” He takes a step back. The slight wind blows his sandy-blond hair as he stands there looking at me. “My name’s Adam, by the way. Adam Madison.”

  “You already know my name.”

  “Do I?” He’s looking at my lips which makes me nervous. So I lick them. And when I see his eyes again, they’re full of heat. And promise.

  Now leaving is imperative. I can’t hang around this town with him in it. “I’m not staying so you know all you need to know.”

  He places one hand on the driver’s door, a move that brings him further into my personal space. Heat radiates off his body. I clench my hands together. “I’ve been a cop a long time, Emily, long enough to recognize a woman’s who’s running from something…or someone.” His other hand settles on the opposite side of me. “If you tell me who it is, I can help you.”

  I want to believe him. He sounds so genuine, but I can’t trust myself let alone someone else. He shifts his stance, brushing his hard thighs against my legs. Raw sexual energy exudes from his skin. It’s tangible, and I want to touch it. Get lost in it.

  “Emily?” He whispers my name, and I feel his breath on mine.

  “I-I-I’m sorry. I have to leave.” Stammering and fumbling, I squirm out from underneath his arms. My body instantly reacts to the loss of heat, the t-shirt I’m wearing doing nothing to protect me.

  Adam’s gaze drops at once to my breasts before he slides it back up to my face. “Something tells me you don’t want to leave.”

  “It’s not about what I want.” The words are out before I can stop them, and I curse myself silently. “Now, please. I need to go.”

  He opens the car door. “Whoever you’re running from can’t get you here, but I can only protect you if you stay. You drive safely.” Once I’m inside my car and buckled up, he touches two fingers to his forehead like an old-fashioned tip of his hat and walks away.

  I stare at his retreating back and breathe a little easier as I slide behind the wheel. Believing him would be so easy, but I’m not the same woman I was seven years ago. Now I’m clinging to the mantra of trust but verify. And there’s no way for me to know if this man is on Ike’s payroll. Even if he isn’t, I’m not stupid enough to think Mark won’t come looking for me. And no one would be safe from him and his father…not even a sheriff. .

  Chapter Two

  A firm tapping on my car window drags me out of a restless sleep. I’d parked the car behind the diner, far enough away from the building that no one could see me if they looked out the windows. But in the light of the early morning dawn, my Volvo sticks out like an apple in a bowl of oranges.

  I pull myself up and right my seat. The tapping continues until I look up and see Francine standing there, a frown on her face and a mug of coffee in her hand. A blue scarf is wrapped around her head, and she’s wearing a puffy coat that makes her look like the Michelin Man. I open the door because I don’t want to waste any gas starting the car.

  “Did you sleep here all night?” The disapproval in her voice rings out too sharply in the morning, and the smell of coffee is making me salivate.

  “I guess I did fall asleep.” I shove my hair out of my eyes. “Is that coffee for me?”

  She hands it over, but her brows are still beetled with displeasure. “And I suppose it’s just a coincidence that you parked here before falling asleep.”

  I sigh and take a sip of the fragrant brew. It singes my tongue, but I still want to gulp it. The night had been long. I think I managed two hours of sleep at a maximum. It’s going to be an even longer day.

  “I was tired.” I summon a smile Francine doesn’t buy for a second. “I knew better than to get back on the road so I thought I’d just take a nap. Guess that turned into an all-nighter.”

  Without my permission, Francine pokes her head in the open doorway, her gaze fixed on the instrument panel. “You’re on empty.”

  “It’s always on empty when the engine is off.”

  She withdraws and folds her arms. “So start it up.”

  I grit my teeth. I don’t need a mother, and Francine certainly isn’t old enough to fit that bill anyway. Once I finish off the rest of the coffee,
I pass the mug back to her. “Thanks for the wake-up call. I’d better get going. And thanks again for dinner last night. I’ll be fine once I get to a bank.” As the idea hit me, I realize it has merit. I don’t have my ID or ATM card, but I know our account number. It could work as long as I don’t have the bad luck to draw a by-the-book teller.

  “Well, until you can get to that bank, you’re coming back inside with me. There’s a bathroom at the back where you can take a hot shower. You got clothes with you?” Before I can answer, she plows on, “Never mind. I’ve got a few things you might be able to wear even though we ain’t exactly the same size.” She yanks open my door a bit further. “Now, are you going in with me, or am I going to have to call Sheriff Madison and report you for trespassing?”

  Damn it. Of all people, why did I have to run into a self-proclaimed guardian angel? But a hot shower did sound nice as did a fresh change of clothes. I drag myself out into the bite of the early morning air, and Francine shuts the door behind me.

  “Fell asleep my ass,” she mutters aloud.

  I traipse after her with as much eagerness as a dog on its way to the vet. “Francine.” I grab her arm before she can open the back door of the diner. “I appreciate your concern. I really do, but I’m fine. Really. I was just tired last night. That’s all.”

  She looks down at my hand holding her arm then back up at my face. “Shower first. Then we’ll talk. We’ve got another couple of hours before the diner opens. I always like to get here early. Good thing I stuck to my routine, huh?” She yanks open the door and waves me inside. “And there’s no more use protesting.”

  She’s made that very clear. I could continue to argue, but I’m bone tired and in need of some warmth. So I walk ahead of her. Inside, the diner is empty and chilly. As the lights start coming on behind me, I move into the back of the kitchen, watching Francine bustle around.

  “The bathroom is on the left, and there’s some towels in the armoire in there. I’ll be right back with something for you to wear. I’ll lock the door behind me.”

  Once I step inside the bathroom, all my complaints disappear. It doesn’t look anything like what I expected to find inside a diner. Instead of utilitarian, this bathroom, with its claw-footed tub, bamboo benches, and plush memory foam rugs, was designed with comfort and aesthetic pleasure in mind.

  I lean in and adjust the ceramic knobs on the tub until the water reaches the right temperature. Once I step into the shower and the hot water starts streaming down my back, I let out a sigh of relief. There’s a new bar of softly-scented soap as well as a bottle of shampoo on the bench next to the tub, and I reach for both. The scent of coconut fills the room when I lather my hair, and I feel like I’m in a luxury spa. As I wash away the dirt and tension, I relax for the first time in almost twenty-four hours. Mark isn’t here now. Not that he won’t come for me, but I can enjoy these moments…until the soap and water saturate the bandage on my thigh, and the instant pain yanks me back to the last night we spent together.

  Wincing, I turn my leg away from the water while wondering what I’m going to do about a new bandage. Hadn’t thought about that when I was in such a hurry to leave. Oh, I’d been packed and ready to go, but things just didn’t turn out the way I thought they would.

  The tiled floor chills my feet when I step out, and I quickly drag the memory foam mat closer. Shivering, I dry myself in record time, carefully patting the bandage in an effort to keep it in place for a little longer, before wrapping the towel around me like a sarong.

  Francine hasn’t returned yet, and I don’t relish the thought of putting my old clothes back on. My nose wrinkles, and I decide to just stay in the towel for now. Francine had said the diner didn’t open for another couple of hours so it’s probably safe to venture out. I can just stay in the back until she returns.

  I pluck my bra off the hook on the back of the door and gather the rest of my clothes in one hand. I could possibly find a bag to put them in until I could get them washed. My feet making damp footprints along the tile in the back of the kitchen, I wander in between the row of stoves and stainless steel countertops.

  A sense of unease slithers down my spine. My mind tells me I don’t have a reason to be afraid here, but I can’t shake the feeling. “Francine, where are you?” I whisper to the empty kitchen.

  Now’s the perfect time for me to leave, but I can’t. Not only did Francine lock me in, but I wouldn’t get very far on the fumes left in my gas tank. Still shivering, I edge closer to the window next to the back door and peer out. Not even a hint of movement in the early dawn hour. The glass fogs when I exhale, reminding me of the frigid air. Another reason to stay inside until I’m better prepared to leave.

  I walk away, putting some space in between me and the emptiness. The front of the diner doesn’t look so foreboding so I climb up on the stool in front of the cash register and wait. Impatiently. Losing track of time while I sit there drumming my fingers on the counter. It doesn’t take long for my mind to take me back to the argument that set my new path in motion…and the reason I knew I wouldn’t go back to Mark or to Broomtown, at least not willingly.

  I’d fallen asleep on the sofa while watching television. It had been close to seven o’clock when Mark had stumbled in, an early night for him, but he’d been pissed to see me asleep. The insults began right away, the names both vile and relentless. I’d walked away from him, but that didn’t stop him.

  He’d followed me into our bedroom, and though I tried to slip into the bathroom, he was faster and shoved me down onto the bed. I’d fought him, but Mark had always been strong.

  I remember my tongue feeling thick in my mouth, and I tried to scream for help. But Mark silenced any sound I could make with his hand. I didn’t see what he took out of his pocket, but later I realized it had been a lighter. As he’d held me down, he’d used it to heat the metal initials on his keychain.

  When I’d realized his intention, I fought like a wild animal to break free, but Mark had only pressed me harder into the mattress, threatening to break my neck if I didn’t shut up. He’d spread my legs so my thigh was open to him, and he’d pressed the searing keychain against my skin, branding me like a cow he owned.

  I’d screamed so loudly I thought our next door neighbor would come running. Or I’d hoped. But that guy knew Mark’s temper. No way he’d interfere. I couldn’t blame him then, and I didn’t blame him now. Few people wanted to go up against Mark. Though years had passed since his football days, he still had the same stocky build and brawny muscles. Add those to his mean disposition, and few people wanted to cross him.

  “Freeze!”

  The shout behind me launches me to my feet, and the stool skids away with my memories. One hand covers my heart that’s now pounding like a fist against my ribcage.

  “I said don’t move!”

  I stick my hands in the air, and the towel slips several notches. “I’m not moving.”

  “Now turn around very slowly.”

  The voice sounds familiar. It couldn’t possibly be…but I turn, and it is. Sheriff Adam Madison, and he’s got his gun trained on me like I’m some sort of threatening criminal.

  “What are you doing?” I lower my hands without his permission because my only cover is about to slip low enough to expose my breasts.

  “Emily?” He lowers his gun. “I couldn’t tell it was you in the shadows. What in the hell are you doing here?”

  “Francine invited me. She knows I’m here, but I doubt she invited you.” I fold my arms in front of me to secure the towel, careful to not lift it too high. I’d rather show the top of my breasts than the wound on my thigh. One look at that would have Adam asking questions I’m not answering. “Do you always come barging into the diner with your gun drawn?”

  “You triggered the alarm.” He juts his chin toward the register. “Guess you got too close to it.”

  I look over my shoulder then back at him. “Well, I wasn’t trying to steal anything if that’s what you’re thi
nking. I was waiting for Francine to get back.” My heart has finally resumed its normal rhythm. “You scared the hell out of me.”

  “I was doing my job.” From the dim light coming in through the full-length windows, I see him scan me from head to toe. “You always sit out in full view of windows wearing nothing but a towel?”

  “Not always.” I clutch my protection and put the counter between us. He’d had all the free looks he was going to get. “How did you get in here?” And how can you possibly look so good this early in the morning?

  And he does. Mouth-watering good with his sandy-brown hair windblown, and his shirt tucked in tightly enough so I can see his well-defined abs. In the male perfection department, he scores a ten.

  Adam secures his gun. “I have a master key.”

  “Of course you do.” His response gives me time to regain my composure. Not that I would keep it very long with him being so close. Adam Madison makes my stomach flip-flop and other parts of my body go warm. Too warm. Like he turns a furnace on whenever he walks in a room.

  It’s been a long time since I’ve noticed a man the way I notice him. And it’s not good. I didn’t leave Broomtown to find another man to hook up with. After Mark, I need time and space, lots and lots of space…especially from the male gender.

  “Adam, for the love of Pete, what are you doing?” Francine rushes in to stand in front of me, and my head stops whirling. Her presence gives me the distraction my body needs to right itself.

  “She tripped the alarm by getting too close to the register.” Adam fixes his gaze on my face. “Seems an odd place for her to wait for you.”

  Even though his lip is lifted at the corner as though he’s joking, my temper spikes. I might be on the run, but I’m no thief. “Or maybe your job has made you too damn suspicious.”