The Ranger Page 4

  Much as she loathed admitting it, those bouts of longing for a deeper connection to another person were growing more frequent of late. She wasn’t exactly sure what was bringing on the desire and, while a big proponent of EI—which was, in part, learning to identify and deal with your emotions properly—Rhiannon found herself a little reluctant to tap too fully into that part of herself.

  Will Forrester exited the bank, and his step faltered when he saw her car. His gaze tangled with hers and the strangest sensation fluttered through her middle—expectation, maybe? Desire, definitely. But something more. Something she couldn’t readily identify, which was almost more disconcerting than the feeling itself.

  “You’re sure you don’t mind keeping my dog for a few days?” Rhiannon asked Elizabeth distractedly, though she knew the answer.

  “Not at all,” she said. “I’ll pick her up this afternoon when I leave the studio.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

  “So…if he won’t let you come with him, then what exactly are you going to do?”

  Rhiannon smiled as she watched him make his way to his car. She could feel his irritation rolling at her in annoyed waves of displeasure. “I’m following him. It’s driving him nuts,” she said cheerfully.

  Elizabeth laughed. “What? How do you know?”

  “Because he keeps glaring at me.” She got the impression that Will Forrester was used to calling the shots and hated having his plans thwarted. She pegged him as a methodical list maker who balked at the idea of spontaneity. He was too regimented, too controlled, and she had the irrational urge to shake him up.

  Liz chuckled again. “Intimidated?”

  “Not in the least.”

  “I didn’t think so. So tell me about this guy. I’m picturing Columbo. Short, stocky, bad suit, needs a shave.”

  Rhiannon’s gaze lingered on Will’s mouthwatering ass, and another grin slid over her lips. “Er…not exactly. Go look up tall, dark and handsome,” she said. “His picture will be there.”

  “Oh, really?” Elizabeth replied, an ooo-la-la in her voice.

  “Pure eye candy, Liz. Utterly gorgeous.” And that was putting it mildly. He was magnificently handsome, sinfully sexy. While she’d never been strictly in love, she’d been in lust a few times.

  The tingly heat that had flooded her body the instant she’d laid eyes on Will Forrester was completely out of the realm of her experience. Even the bottoms of her feet had buzzed.

  “Deets,” Elizabeth demanded. “I need details. Hair?”

  “Brown. Short. Classic military high and tight.” Aha, Rhiannon thought. The hair, the demeanor, the attention to detail. He was probably former military. That sure as hell made sense. She could certainly see that in his character. “Eyes?”

  How to describe them? she wondered. “Pale gray, but not flat. More silver I would say.”

  “Ooh, those sound nice.”

  They were. And when he looked at her… Man, her insides turned to mush.

  “Body?”

  Rhiannon grinned. “Amazing.”

  Elizabeth chuckled. “Ass?”

  “Mouthwatering.”

  “Poor you,” her friend remarked with faux sympathy. “Having to follow that guy around.”

  Rhiannon sighed dramatically. “It’s a tough job, but somebody’s got to do it.”

  She cranked her car and slid out into traffic behind Will. Her cell suddenly beeped, indicating a call waiting. She frowned. “Hey, Liz, I’m getting another call.”

  “Keep me posted,” her friend said.

  Rhiannon hit the flash button. “Hello.”

  “How long are you going to keep this up?” he asked, glaring at her from his rearview mirror.

  She smiled brightly. “How did you get my number?”

  “Same way I got your address. From the agency’s file. How long?” he growled. Strangely, that was a turn-on. She wondered if he made the same noise in bed.

  “For as long as it takes. Indefinitely. Forever. Whichever comes first. Why? Am I starting to get on your nerves?”

  “No.”

  “Liar.” She laughed. “I can see you scowling from here.”

  “Shit,” he muttered, but she saw him smile. And oh, that smile…

  “All of this could be avoided if you would simply let me help you.”

  “What part of no don’t you understand?”

  “I understand the word,” she said, relieved when he pulled up in front of the diner. “It’s the reasoning I’m having trouble with.”

  He sighed. “You’re going to drive me crazy, aren’t you?”

  She fluffed her hair in the rearview mirror. “Only until you see sense.”

  4

  RHIANNON PALMER SLID into the booth across from him and blithely snagged a menu from behind the napkin holder. “I’m so glad you finally stopped for lunch. I was starving.”

  Will chewed the inside of his cheek, reluctantly admiring her tenacity while simultaneously annoyed beyond reason. “Glad I could accommodate you.”

  She perused the menu. “I’m used to eating on a schedule, you know. I get cranky when I get hungry.”

  He moved the salt and pepper shakers to the middle of the table and arranged his silverware. “You’re diabetic, too?”

  “No,” she said, popping the menu back into its place. “School. I’m the guidance counselor at Begonia Elementary.”

  Will snorted. “Guidance counselor?”

  She straightened and those violet eyes narrowed fractionally. “My profession amuses you?”

  “No, but imagining you as a guidance counselor does.”

  “Why?”

  “Because my guidance counselor was a soft-spoken, bun-wearing cat lover who gave out ‘Kindness Pays’ stickers and cherry suckers.” He purposely let his gaze drift over her. “You don’t exactly fit the stereotype.” Furthermore, weren’t guidance counselors supposed to be soothing?

  Rhiannon Palmer was anything but.

  She was a live wire. One touch and she would fry him senseless, render him unable to form complete sentences. She was a red-hot mess—and despite better sense and a relatively keen sense of self-preservation, he was utterly fascinated by her.

  He did not have time to be fascinated by her.

  New job—one she was seemingly determined to ruin for him—missing old man with diabetes; the list was endless.

  Honestly, when she’d made the “hard way” comment, he’d had no idea what to expect. He’d actually thought she meant that she was going to have to do things the hard way. Like, by herself. It had never occurred to him that the unpredictable beauty would follow him.

  But that was exactly what she’d been doing all afternoon. He’d come out of the Watson Plantation manor—gorgeous, but ultimately unhelpful—and there she’d been. Sitting in a little hybrid SUV sporting a bumper sticker that said, “Well-behaved women rarely make history.” And she’d actually waved at him, as though this were completely normal. As if they were old friends.

  Bizarre.

  “Afternoon, Rhi,” the tall, thin waitress said. “I was beginning to wonder if you were going to show up today.”

  Rhiannon sent Will a pointed glare. “Unexpected delay. Please tell me you put a plate back for me,” she wheedled shamelessly.

  The waitress smiled. “Of course.”

  Her face brightened. “You’re a peach, Wanda. Thanks.”

  “Tea?”

  She nodded once. “Yep.”

  Wanda’s attention swung to him. “And what can I get for you, sir?”

  “I’ll just have what she’s having.”

  Wanda made a moue of regret. “Sorry. We’re out.”

  Rhiannon smiled at him and offered up a small shrug. “Sorry. Have the open-faced roast beef,” she suggested. “It’s excellent.”

  “What are you having?”

  “Meat loaf.”

  Dammit, he loved meat loaf.

  “We should have gotten here earlier,” she said, see
mingly sensing his irrational displeasure.

  Feeling like a total idiot, Will purposely schooled his expression into one that didn’t make him look like a moron and simply nodded. “The roast beef, then,” he said.

  She widened her eyes in exaggerated wonder after Wanda walked away, and looked out the window toward the street. “Looks like I’m not the only one who gets cranky when he gets hungry,” she remarked in a significant voice.

  “I’m not cranky,” he said. “I’m annoyed. There’s a difference.”

  Another fatalistic shrug, as though this was all his fault. “You wanted to do it the hard way.”

  Though there was absolutely nothing dirty about what she’d said, his imagination nevertheless immediately leaped in that direction, which only served to irritate him further. Actually, he’d rather not do it at all, but he couldn’t say that to her without fear of innuendo.

  Will rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Please tell me that you aren’t going to do this—follow me—all the way to Philadelphia.”

  Her gaze sharpened. “So that’s where we’re headed?”

  He swore and leaned back.

  “Watch your language,” a little old lady in the booth directly behind him snapped. “I’ve got my grandson over here.”

  Rhiannon snickered as Will flushed beet-red and turned to offer an awkward apology.

  Bloody frickin’ hell.

  Wanda returned with their plates and he stared broodingly at her meat loaf. She speared a bite and popped it into her mouth, then sighed with pleasure. The way her lips closed around her fork was particularly sensual and it didn’t take much to imagine her mouth around another, increasingly hard part of his anatomy. Sweat suddenly dampened his upper lip.

  She was going to be the death of him.

  “You can’t keep following me,” he said, gallingly hear ing a note of desperation in his own voice.

  “You’re right. It would be better if we traveled together.” She sipped her tea. “We should take my car, though. It uses less of the world’s finite resources.”

  Will dredged his soul for another ounce of patience. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

  She took a deep breath and set her fork aside for the moment. “What is it about me going with you exactly that you object to?”

  He blinked. “What?”

  “Why exactly would it be so terrible for me to help you?”

  It was a good question, Will would admit, and he wished he had an equally good answer. In all fairness, if she were going to trail after him—and he knew she was—it did make more sense for them to travel together. She had more knowledge about his target than any other person, and particular intel on the so-called treasure Watson was after. Logically, it made sense.

  But…

  He drew back and lifted his shoulders in an unconcerned shrug. “I’ve already told you. This is a new job. My first case. I may be new to the agency, but I’ve read the handbook—”

  She gave an it-figures eye roll, which—while irritating—he chose to ignore. “And you are against the rules.” Strictly speaking, that was a lie. The handbook hadn’t covered how to avoid irritating women hell-bent on “helping” him. “I can’t afford any distractions,” he finished. “I would not be a distraction. I would be helpful.”

  Helpful or not, she would still be a distraction. A beautiful, sexy, charming distraction he didn’t have time for. Ranger Security was paying him to find Theodore Watson, not for trying to seduce the old man’s friend. And Will knew himself well enough to know that he wouldn’t be able to resist her. It had been too damned long since he’d been with a woman and she was too tempting by half. Human nature. Sexual chemistry. He’d seen a flicker of awareness in her eyes, too. It didn’t take a genius to see where this would ultimately lead.

  Bed.

  And as wonderful as that might be—and he instinctively knew she would quite literally rock his world—this was not the time or place for it.

  Furthermore, there was something about her that made him slightly…uneasy, for lack of a better description. Interesting behavior aside, there was something almost compelling about her. He could feel her drawing him in, and he had the most irrational urge to confide in her. To simply blurt out the truth. To tell her he couldn’t afford to fuck up this job, that it was the last damned thing hold ing him to a career he used to love. That tied him to a past that, despite years of good deeds, he could no longer be proud of.

  It was tainted with death.

  Help me…

  She leaned forward, laid her hand over his and smiled softly. “Are you okay?”

  Predictably, her touch sizzled through him, chasing the images away with the flame of instant desire.

  Will essayed a smile and was surprised at how easily the lie rolled off his tongue. “Of course.” He paused. “But you still can’t come with me.”

  HE WAS SUCH A LIAR, Rhiannon thought, and she was more than prudently intrigued by whatever was haunting him. The pain she’d felt settle around him like a shadow was positively debilitating and yet he’d merely smiled and managed to shrug it off. Not completely, of course, and there would come a point when he would not be able to do it, but…

  It was none of her business.

  Seriously. None of her concern. He was here to find Theo and that was all.

  Furthermore, she instinctively knew—and didn’t need any sort of EI to know this—that he would not welcome any interference on her part. Denial was getting him through whatever horror was haunting his soul and it was not her place to point out that it was futile. That a reckoning would eventually come.

  Even if she wanted to.

  Even now she could feel herself leaning toward him, trying to draw him in and thereby draw out whatever was hurting him. She’d always been an emotional magnet, had always felt compelled to help people process their feelings, but even Rhiannon acknowledged this was more potent than anything she’d ever experienced before. She’d been telling him repeatedly that she could help him, but only now realized the secondary truth in her own statement.

  Whether he knew it or not, Will Forrester needed her.

  Unfortunately, she could tell that he was still as hell-bent as ever that she not come along with him. She didn’t have to be able to read his mood to know that. It was written in every line in his face—the implacable gaze, the hard angle of his jaw, the determined firmness of his distractingly sexy chin.

  Perhaps a new tack was in order. “Okay, fine. You win.”

  He blinked at her seeming capitulation and his gaze grew suddenly suspicious. “What do you mean I win? I win what?”

  “I won’t ask to come with you again. I’ll just follow you, if you don’t mind.” She sighed heavily and played her trump card. “I’ll feel safer.”

  Total crock of bullshit. She’d driven across the country alone when she was eighteen for the hell of it. Because she’d wanted to see the Pacific Ocean. She’d spent three months backpacking across Europe, staying in hostels and the like. While she wasn’t exactly fearless—spiders scared the hell out of her—she was no shrinking violet and never would be.

  But if playing one got her what she wanted, then so be it.

  “Safer?” he deadpanned. “How so?”

  “Oh, you know. A woman traveling alone. Without protection. Easy target for serial killers and rapists.”

  He snorted. “I think you are perfectly capable of taking care of yourself.”

  She inwardly preened at the comment, but purposely furrowed her brow. “I hope so,” she said. “I’ve got some mace.” And a taser and a brown belt, but he didn’t need to know that.

  His cheek creased with a smile and he leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “You should send a thank-you to your local drama teacher,” he remarked, that gray gaze lingering on her face. “You’re quite good.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” Her lips betrayed her with a twitch and he didn’t miss it.

  “Aha! See, there we go. You
’re bullshitting me.”

  “Language,” Rhiannon reminded him with a significant nod over his shoulder. “Mrs. Parker will wallop you next time.”

  Still grinning, he leaned forward. “Give it up,” he said. “I don’t have time for this. Every minute I spend arguing with you is another minute I could be looking for Mr. Watson.”

  “You’re having lunch,” she said innocently. “I’m not wasting your time.”

  “But you will,” he muttered ominously.

  “Sorry?”

  “I’ll call you,” he promised. “I will keep you apprised.”

  She shook her head. “That’s not good enough. I have to help. I have to find him. He’s like family to me.” Her voice broke at the end and there was no drama intended. She didn’t know what she would do without Theo. He was her rock, her very best friend.

  Something in his expression shifted, softened, and Rhiannon took the opportunity to press her advantage.

  “Have you been to Theo’s house yet?” she asked.

  “No.” He grimaced. “Tad was supposed to leave me a key, but forgot. I can get in, of course, but I’d rather not have to break a window or screw up the lock.”

  She grinned. “I have a key.”

  “Have you been over there already?”

  “Of course.” She waited, forcing him to ask her what he wanted to know.

  “Well?”

  “Well what?”

  He exhaled mightily. “Did you notice anything unusual? Check the messages on his machine? Was anything missing?”

  No, she hadn’t thought to check the messages on his machine and she wasn’t altogether certain anything was missing, other than Theo. He had watered his plants, though, and stopped his mail. Martha, their carrier, had told her that. She should probably go back with him, Rhiannon realized. Much as it pained her to admit it, there were things he would likely think of that she wouldn’t.

  She thoughtfully chewed the inside of her cheek, then gave a brisk nod, deciding. “I did not check his messages,” she said. She told him about the plants and the mail. “He would have taken copies of his grandfather’s journals, I would imagine, though I didn’t look to see if they were gone. We also need to check his luggage. See if he took the big case or a smaller one.”