Читать книгу: «Double Play», страница 6

He was sweating profusely now, the smell of fear filling the tight space. His muscles were starting to cramp, he was having trouble catching his breath and just the thought of being trapped in the trunk brought on a panic attack.

What if Angel had made him get in the trunk for another reason besides hiding him? What if he planned to take him out in the desert and kill him?

Unlike him, Angel had never held much store in the fact that they had some of the same blood coursing through their veins. Angel wasn’t the sentimental type. Angel would have killed his own grandmother if there were something in it for him.

Vince stiffened as he felt the car decelerate. The tires left the smooth pavement for a bumpy road that jarred every bone in his body. Why didn’t Angel stop and let him out? Where the hell was he taking him?

After an interminable amount of time, Angel finally stopped.

Vince held his breath and listened. He could hear the tick-tick-tick of the motor as it cooled. A car door opened and closed, no sense of urgency in the movements. The door opened again. Vince heard the scrape of the key in the trunk lock. That was strange. Why hadn’t Angel just pulled the trunk lever before he got out of the car?

The trunk lid rose slowly.

Antelope Flats, Montana

CASH LED THE WAY up the stairs to the bedroom where Molly would be staying, cursing to himself.

Kerrington. He should have known the moment he caught that fragrance. The memory of Kerrington’s cologne was now all tied up in his memories of Jasmine.

Cash knew he should call State Investigator Mathews and inform him about this latest possible development before Kerrington did. Still, he hesitated. He would know about the fingerprints by tomorrow at the latest. The call could wait until then.

And maybe he would get lucky and find out what she wanted, whomever this woman was whom he’d invited to stay in his house.

Her reaction to Kerrington had certainly surprised him—and Kerrington as well. Not just a complete lack of recognition on her part, but she didn’t seem to like him. It could have been an act, he supposed. It could all be an act. But at least Cash wanted to believe her dislike for Kerrington was real.

He couldn’t put his finger on what was bothering him about her. Part of him acknowledged that she was different from the Jasmine he remembered—the memory loss aside. He told himself that seven years and not knowing who she was would make her different. Not to mention whatever had happened to her before her car ended up in that barn.

As she’d said, she felt something horrible had happened to her. Any change he thought he saw in her could be directly related to that. And she had the scar to prove it.

Or she could be lying, just as Kerrington had accused her, the scar from some other accident. Cash hated that he and Kerrington might ever agree on anything, but there was something about Molly Kilpatrick, something that warned him to be wary whether she was Jasmine—or a complete stranger.

When had he become so suspicious? He knew the answer to that one as he turned to look back at her. She had stopped at the top of the stairs and appeared to be studying an old photograph of the ranch.

“Is this your family’s ranch?” she asked.

The photograph was of the original homestead, the old hewn-log cabin, a herd of longhorns grazing in a meadow behind it.

“Yes.” And no, he thought. But the photo was the essence of the ranch, how it had all begun. If she was curious about what his family ranch was now worth…well then that was something else.

“It’s the Sundown Ranch. My great grandfather drove a herd of longhorns up from Texas to start it.”

She nodded as if she didn’t know what else to say and he saw that she seemed nervous.

“If you’d be more comfortable at the motel…”

She shook her head. “No, it’s just…” She waved a hand through the air and looked into his eyes. Hers were a warm Caribbean sea-green in the hall light, as inviting as a kiss. He remembered almost kissing her earlier with no small regret. “You don’t know me and yet you offered me a place to stay. I could be a total stranger.”

“Could be.” He smiled ruefully. For strictly personal, selfish reasons he wanted Jasmine to be alive. Didn’t want her disappearance hanging over him the rest of his life. He wanted her to remember everything. No matter who it hurt, himself included.

“I might not be the man you think I am,” he warned her.

She met his gaze. “Or me the woman you hope I am.”

“I’m not worried,” he said, knowing that wasn’t entirely true. “Are you?”

Slowly she returned his smile and shook her head. “No. I know it’s the safest place for me to be right now.”

Or so she thought, he mused. “Your room is right down here.”

He led her to the door of the master bedroom and opened it. It was a large, bright room. Fortunately, the house had come with some furniture. The high, white iron bed frame was one of the pieces.

When the house was built, the room was wallpapered in a tiny flower print of yellows, greens, blues and pinks. The print had faded some but was still intact. This room had always seemed too large, as if it demanded double occupancy. That’s why he’d opted for a smaller bedroom down the hall. He kept this one made up for the times Dusty or one of his brothers stayed over.

“There’s a large bath in here,” he said, stepping past her to push open the door.

She let out a cry of delight at the sight of the huge claw-foot bathtub.

“I guess it was made special, that’s why it’s so large.” Large enough for two, he thought ruefully.

“I love it,” she said as if she could see herself sunk in the tub.

He had to smile. “So does my sister. She left an assortment of bubble bath. Help yourself.”

“Thank you.” Her gaze came back to him. Her smile was shy, uncertain, her mouth turning up a little higher on one side. He didn’t remember Jasmine ever smiling like that, but he’d forgotten so much…. And some things he would never forget.

He tried to swallow the lump in his throat as he put down her suitcase. “If you need anything just let me know.”

He hurried out of the bedroom, the large room suddenly feeling claustrophobic.

Who had he invited to stay with him?

“Come down when you’re ready,” he called back. “I’ll just heat us up some dinner.”

By this time tomorrow, he should know. Twenty-four hours. And every moment of it he would be looking for Jasmine in this woman. And waiting. Waiting to find out the real reason she had come to him.

Atlanta, Georgia

THE WOLFE COMPANY JET was winging its way across the Midwest when Bernard got the call.

He checked caller ID and felt his pulse jump. Stay calm. He’d recognized the name on the caller ID. Patty Franklin, Jasmine’s former roommate. Seemed she hadn’t married. Or if she had, she’d kept her maiden name.

He took a breath, not wanting her to hear anything in his voice that might give him away. “Wolfe here.”

“Bernard?” Patty sounded tentative. She always sounded tentative. Didn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out why Jasmine had befriended her. Can you say doormat?

“Yes?” He pretended he didn’t recognize her voice. Hell, it had been almost seven years since he’d heard from her. He wondered how she’d gotten his cell-phone number.

“It’s Patty. Patty Franklin?” she said. “Your sister’s former roommate?”

“Patty.” He tried to make that one word say, “Why are you bothering me after all this time?”

“I’m sure you’ve heard about Jasmine’s car being found,” Patty said.

The story he’d found out had gone national. Everyone had heard. “Of course.”

“I’ve been so upset. Is there any more news?”

No, and there is no more money to keep your mouth shut either. “No, I’m afraid not.”

“Well, I didn’t mean to bother you,” she said. “I just wanted to see if there was anything I could do. I’ve never forgotten her. She really was one of a kind.” He couldn’t argue that. “I guess you’re coming to Montana.”

Patty just happened to still be in Montana? He waited for her to make her pitch for more money and said nothing. Force her to ask this time.

“I know how hard this must be for you,” she said hesitantly. “I should let you go. I just wanted to say how sorry I am and how much I appreciated your kindness when we lost Jasmine.”

“Thank you for calling, but I have to keep the line open in case there is any news,” he said and disconnected, turning off his cell phone just in case she called back and wanted another fifty thousand in kindness.

And what was that about “when we lost Jasmine”? Patty hadn’t meant anything to Jasmine and she sure as hell meant nothing to him. Why had she called?

He wondered if he’d made a mistake by not offering her more money. She’d never really blackmailed him. At least not outright. She’d just made a point of mentioning how she would never tell the police anything that might make him look guilty because she knew he couldn’t hurt Jasmine. And the next thing he knew he was paying for her college education. Jasmine would have liked that, he’d told Patty and she’d cried and agreed. What a dummy he’d been.

HE SWORE NOW AND LOOKED at his watch. He couldn’t wait to get to Montana and get this over with. He tried to forget Patty. He hadn’t heard from her in seven years, so maybe her call had been just what she’d said it was.

Maybe by the time he got to Montana, Jasmine’s body would have been found and he could finally put Jasmine to rest.

“Amen,” he said, but Patty’s phone call was still bothering him. He contemplated how far he’d go to get rid of her if she tried to extort him again. One thing was certain. He wasn’t giving her another cent.

Antelope Flats, Montana

MOLLY WAITED UNTIL SHE HEARD Cash’s footfalls die off down the stairs before she let herself relax. What a day this had been!

She’d bought herself a little time. She should have been relieved. But Jasmine’s brother would be in town soon, if he wasn’t already. Cash was convinced that Kerrington would tell Bernard. How would she avoid that bullet?

Knowing that Cash would try to protect her made her feel all the more guilty. That and seeing how much he wanted her to be Jasmine, how much he’d obviously loved the woman.

She looked around the room and tried to tell herself that she was safe and that was all that mattered. No way could Vince and Angel find her. But was that all she had to worry about? Could Cash be right about Jasmine’s abductor being someone she knew, someone who wasn’t going to be happy to see her alive?

She couldn’t worry about that now. She’d just had two close calls. Running into Kerrington and an even closer call with Cash. She’d almost kissed him. Had wanted to kiss him. If he hadn’t pulled back—

He was already suspicious. Kissing him would have been stupid. Something had happened back at his office, she’d done something wrong. She still didn’t know what it was but she remembered the doubt she’d glimpsed in his face.

The only thing that had saved her was his desperation to believe she was Jasmine, she thought with a chill as she glanced around the room. He’d bought this house for Jasmine? And kept it for seven years untouched? Had he expected her to turn up one day just as Molly had done?

He hadn’t moved on with his life, that much was clear. But why, she wondered. Because he’d loved Jasmine too much to let go? Or for some other reason?

She remembered what Kerrington had said about a fight between the two of them. And her car turning up just a few miles from town. Was he insinuating that Cash had something to do with Jasmine’s disappearance?

She shook off the bad feeling that came with the thought. Cash had loved Jasmine. He wouldn’t have hurt her.

And yet he was hiding something from her. She’d seen it in his face when she’d asked about their relationship.

She took a breath and let it out slowly. Don’t borrow trouble. You’re safe. At least for a while. With luck, Vince and Angel have been arrested by now. She still hadn’t heard anything about Lanny Giliano. She would call tonight. Maybe somehow he’d gotten away.

This would be over soon and she would be gone. Like it or not, she would again be Molly Kilpatrick, daughter of the Great Maximilian Burke, magician extraordinaire and thief.

It would be a far cry from the daughter of Archibald Wolfe and the Wolfe furniture fortune. A far cry from being the woman Cash McCall had loved, she thought.

She looked around the master bedroom. If Jasmine really were alive, Cash would be sharing this room with her.

With a shudder, Molly hurried downstairs, feeling as if she’d just walked across the woman’s grave.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Outside Las Vegas, Nevada

AT FIRST ALL Vince saw was darkness as the trunk lid swung upward, then a blinding light. He recoiled, drawing back into the tight space, covering his head with an arm, gasping for what he feared would be his last breath.

When something touched his shoulder, he cried out.

“What’s wrong with you?” Angel demanded. “You get sunstroke or something in there?”

Vince peered out from under his arm. He’d expected to see a knife in Angel’s hand. But all Angel held was a flashlight. “You blinded me.”

Vince could see his brother frowning. “You need help out or what?”

Vince shook his head. He’d just spent fifteen years in prison with murderers and worse, but he’d never been as frightened as when that trunk lid had swung open. It made him sick that he could even think his half brother would kill him. What kind of man was he?

“My legs are asleep.”

“Here, take my hand,” Angel said. Awkwardly, Vince crawled out of the trunk with Angel’s help.

“So?” Angel said as Vince stood and tried to get feeling back into his limbs. Just as he’d suspected, Angel had driven out to an isolated part of the desert. He could see lights in the distance on the interstate and hear the distant hum of the traffic. His chest ached, heart still pounding too hard. He sucked in the hot desert night air and tried to calm himself.

“I’m okay,” he said as if trying to reassure himself.

“That’s all you have to say?” Angel sounded disappointed, angry. “I got us out of Vegas with dozens of cops chasing us. You think that was easy back there?”

Vince shook his head. “You saved us. You’re the best. Thanks.”

Angel nodded. Clearly he’d hoped for more but Vince wasn’t up to it right now.

“Yeah, well, don’t forget it. You need me.”

Vince put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I do need you,” he said, his voice breaking with emotion.

“You sure you’re all right?” Angel asked again, eyeing him.

“Fine. Great. I’m great.”

“Then let’s get the hell out of here,” Angel said, slamming the trunk.

Vince walked around to the passenger side and threw up in the sagebrush before climbing into the car.

“Where to?” his brother asked, sliding behind the wheel.

With still-trembling fingers, Vince took the laptop from the backseat where Angel had put it. He booted up the program and waited for the GPS tracking device to tell him exactly where they could find Molly. It was time.

Antelope Flats, Montana

MOLLY SAID SHE loved POT ROAST, Cash thought as he put the leftover roast and vegetables in the microwave.

Was she just being polite? He didn’t think so. She’d almost seemed impressed. He smiled at the memory. If she was Jasmine, she was definitely an improved version.

The Jasmine from seven years ago had been the pickiest eater he’d ever known. She ate like a bird, always worrying about her weight, but also very finicky about what she ate. She would have turned up her nose at pot roast. Her tastes ran more to expensive restaurant cuisine, takeout, anything that came in white boxes or fancy-shaped foil impressed her.

The doorbell rang. Cash swore. He wasn’t up to seeing Jasmine’s brother Bernard. Not now. And he didn’t want to put Jasmine-Molly-whoever she was through another scene.

He moved to the door and looked through the peephole, already deciding that if it was Bernard, he wouldn’t let him in.

It wasn’t. It was Shelby, his mother. And she knew he was home and, therefore, wouldn’t give up until he opened the door.

He swore under his breath and glanced up the stairs as she rang the bell again. Molly was still in her room. Now if she would just stay there until he could get rid of his mother. He opened the door before she could ring the bell again. “Shelby.”

“I know I should have called first,” she said as she stepped past him and into the foyer. “I wanted to see how you were.”

“I told you—”

“I know what you told me,” she said, stopping in the center of the hallway to turn back to look at him. “I’m worried about you.” She sniffed the air and smiled. “At least you’re eating. But I hate the idea of you eating alone.”

“I’ve been eating alone for years.” He hadn’t meant to say it so sharply. “I’m fine. Really.” He needed to get rid of her before Jasmine came down.

She was eyeing him as if she didn’t believe he was fine. “I’m so glad you’re coming out for dinner tomorrow night.”

He’d completely forgotten he’d agreed to that. What would he do with Jasmine? He couldn’t leave her. “Listen, Shelby, about that—”

But his mother wasn’t listening. She was staring at Jasmine’s pale pink jacket. He’d hung it by the door when he’d brought in her suitcase.

“You have company?” she asked, sounding surprised.

At just that moment, Jasmine appeared at the top of the stairs. She stopped, almost stumbling as she saw that he wasn’t alone.

“Jasmine?” Shelby whispered, grabbing hold of Cash’s arm to steady herself, a look of horror on her face.

CASH STARED AT HIS MOTHER. Not only had Shelby recognized Jasmine, she also sounded stunned to see her and not the least bit pleased. What the hell?

“You know Jasmine?” he asked, a little stunned himself. He’d just assumed his mother hadn’t known or cared what was happening in Antelope Flats during the time she’d been pretending to be dead. He’d thought she and Jasmine had that in common.

“We’ve never met, if that’s what you mean,” Shelby said. “I just…know about her.”

He stared at his mother, amazed that she continued to surprise him. Clearly she knew a lot more about Jasmine—and his relationship with her—than he would have guessed. Possibly more than anyone else knew.

Jasmine cleared her throat and looked to him as if waiting for an introduction—or an explanation for this woman’s obvious shock and thinly veiled animosity.

“Forgive my manners,” he said and motioned her down the stairs. “This is Shelby, my mother.”

Jasmine smiled warmly as she came down the stairs.

Shelby clutched his arm tighter. He could feel her trembling and frowned as he realized it could be from fear. Or rage. “You’re even more beautiful than you were seven years ago.”

His mother’s words echoed in his head. She’d seen Jasmine seven years ago? Just how much did his mother know? He felt sick. Was it possible she knew his secret?

“I thought you were dead,” Shelby said. “I mean, we all did.”

“You do have that in common,” Cash remarked, hating the anger and bitterness he heard in his voice but at the same time wanting to defend Jasmine. Or at least this version of her.

His mother shot him a reproachful look as she let go of his arm. “When were you going to tell us that Jasmine was alive?”

“I’m not Jasmine, I’m Molly.” She looked to Cash as if for help. “That is, I don’t think I’m Jasmine.”

Cash sighed and said, “She’s been going by the name Molly Kilpatrick.” He filled her in, giving Shelby the short version of how she’d seen the article and the photo and had come here to find herself.

“We won’t know for certain until the fingerprint results come back in a week or so,” Cash finished. Except he planned to know a whole lot sooner than that.

Jasmine held out her hand. “In the meantime, please, call me Molly.”

Shelby took Jasmine’s hand in both of hers. “All right, Molly.” She sounded as if she didn’t believe for an instant that this woman was anyone but Jasmine Wolfe.

Cash watched his mother, seeing not the woman who’d been trying to ease her way back into their lives but one who, like the grizzly sow, was ready to fight to the death to protect her cub.

He wasn’t sure what surprised him more. The fact that his mother had known about Jasmine or her apparent fear for him and need to protect him.

“We need to keep Molly a secret until the fingerprint results come back,” Cash said. “If word got out, the press would have a field day.” Asa had somehow managed to keep Shelby’s return out of the papers, but hadn’t been able to stop this part of the state from talking about it. The Longhorn Café had been abuzz for weeks.

“Trust me, I won’t breathe a word,” Shelby said, meeting his gaze. “And I think you know how good I am at keeping secrets.”

“Oh yeah.”

“You have to bring Jasmine to dinner tomorrow night,” Shelby continued.

“Molly,” Jasmine insisted.

“Yes, Molly,” Shelby said, her smile anything but inviting. “You will come to dinner out at the ranch, won’t you?”

It was clearly an order. “That would not be a good idea,” Cash said. It was bad enough that his mother knew about her. He didn’t need his whole family knowing. And then there was whatever was going on between his mother and Jasmine.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Shelby was saying. “Of course you’ll bring her. The ranch is the safest place for her. I will swear the family to secrecy.”

Cash groaned. “Our family has enough secrets.”

His mother shook her head as if he was wasting his time arguing with her. “You can’t leave Jasmine here alone and you’ve already promised to come to dinner. It isn’t as if you can keep her locked up in this house for weeks while you wait for the fingerprint results.”

He realized she wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Nor could he tell her in front of Jasmine that he had no intention of keeping her here for weeks. Just until he got the fingerprint results. Or until he knew on his own whom she really was.

And then what?

He’d cross that bridge when he came to it.

“Come out about six,” Shelby said, then gave Jasmine a forced smile and said she was looking forward to seeing her at dinner, before turning back to him. “Walk me to my car, will you, dear?”

Shelby Ward McCall wasn’t the type of woman who needed a man to walk her anywhere.

“Okay,” he said and shot a look at Jasmine. “I’ll be right back.”

“Nice meeting you,” Molly said.

“What was that about?” Cash asked Shelby the moment he closed the front door behind them.

“You’re sure she’s Jasmine?” his mother asked, an edge to her voice that took him aback.

“If I was sure, why would I send her fingerprints to the FBI?”

“Cash…” Shelby gripped his arm, an urgency in her voice. “Don’t trust her.”

He laughed. “If I didn’t know better I’d think you were being one of those no-woman-is-good-enough-for-my-son mothers.” Except that she had happily welcomed both Cassidy and Regina into the family when Rourke and J.T. had brought them home.

“If that woman in there is Jasmine, she’s dangerous,” Shelby said.

He felt himself go cold inside just as he had earlier. “Why would you say that? If you know something, Mother—”

She didn’t seem to notice that he’d called her Mother. “Don’t pretend with me. Whatever you once felt for that woman, don’t turn your back on her until you find out what she wants.”

“This might surprise you, but I know what I’m doing.”

She let go of his arm and gave him a tentative smile, worry in her eyes. “I’m sorry. But she fooled you once before. She’ll try again.” With that, she walked to her car with the stride of a woman half her age.

Cash watched her go, filled with a sense of regret that he hadn’t known her all those years when she’d been pretending to be dead. She was a tough old broad, he thought with a smile.

But how much did she know? He hated to think.

Molly felt a chill the moment the front door closed behind Cash and his mother. The woman hated her. Molly had seen it in Shelby McCall’s expression, felt it in her handshake.

“What have you gotten yourself into?” she whispered as she folded her arms to rub her shoulders, trying to fight off the icy dread that filled her. Being Molly Kilpatrick hadn’t been any picnic, but being Jasmine Wolfe was turning out to be even worse.

What kind of trouble had Jasmine gotten herself into at the end? Something that had gotten her killed, Molly was pretty sure of that. Apparently, Jasmine had her share of enemies. And possible lovers. Unless she hadn’t slept with Kerrington either.

She glanced toward the front door, wondering what Cash’s mother was telling him about her. Not her. Jasmine. Being Jasmine was becoming more of a pain than she ever could have imagined. And possibly more dangerous as well.

The front door opened and Cash came back in. He frowned. “Are you all right?”

“Fine. Just a little chilly.” Kind of like that reception I got from your mother.

“Here.” He took a fleece jacket from the coat rack by the door, instead of her jacket. “It might be a little big but it’s warmer than yours. The house can be a bit drafty.”

“Thanks.” She pulled on the soft fleece. The jacket was huge on her. He took one sleeve. She watched him roll it up, could feel his gaze on her face as he did.

“Your mother seems nice,” she said.

He stopped rolling the second sleeve to look at her. He must think she was a complete idiot not to notice his mother’s negative reaction to her. But he said nothing and after a moment, he finished rolling up the sleeve. “There. Warmer?”

She nodded. “Were they close? Your mother and Jasmine?”

“I had no idea my mother even knew you. You have no memory of her?” he said.

Molly shook her head. He was referring to her as Jasmine again. Isn’t that what she’d hoped originally? That he and everyone else would think she was Jasmine?

“Hungry?” he asked.

Her stomach rumbled as if in answer.

“Let’s get you fed before anyone else shows up at the door,” he said and led the way into the kitchen as if nothing were wrong.

But Molly could see the change in him since his mother’s visit. He seemed even more wary of her—if that were possible. What had his mother said to him?

Molly had hoped to gain his trust. But she realized there were some large key pieces of the Jasmine puzzle missing—just as if she really did have amnesia.

Why wouldn’t he be suspicious of a woman who’d vanished into thin air and suddenly turned up on his doorstep, so to speak, seven years later?

But she knew it was more than that. There were undercurrents here that she didn’t understand. Something to do with him and Jasmine. And his mother seemed to know about it.

Molly could feel Cash pulling away from her and the irony was he seemed to be doing it not because he suspected she wasn’t Jasmine—but because he thought she was. “Are you sure I can’t help with dinner?”

“Thanks but I’ve had it warming,” he said and motioned her to a chair at the table as he took a large casserole dish from the microwave.

As he lifted the lid, she caught a whiff of dinner and everything but food was pushed from her mind. The casserole dish was filled with thick, juicy slices of pot roast surrounded by lightly braised carrots, potatoes and onions—and if that didn’t smell heavenly enough, he also retrieved warm rolls from the oven and a plate of real butter from the fridge.

“Oh, that smells so wonderful.” She breathed in the scents as if she hadn’t eaten in days. It had been hours. At the moment, she didn’t care if he knew what she was up to or not. She didn’t care that everyone she’d met who’d known Jasmine besides Cash seemed to hate her. And what had been going on with Cash and Jasmine was still to be determined.

The woman had been his fiancée. He’d put his life on hold since her disappearance. But there was more to the story. Much more, she suspected. She thought about what Kerrington had said and was reminded of that old adage: If you’ve never thought about murdering someone, you’ve never been in love.

Cash handed her a large serving spoon. “Dig in,” he said, taking the chair across from her.

She did, ladling the rich gravy over several luscious slices of pot roast, lightly browned small red potatoes, slivers of golden carrots and whole baby onions.

“May I?” he asked as he buttered himself a roll and offered to do the same for her.

“Please.” She took a bite of the pot roast and one of the small onions, closing her eyes as she let the amazing flavors fill her senses. So this was home cooking.

“You like it?” he asked.

She opened her eyes. “I love it.”

He handed her the buttered roll and watched as she took a bite. She felt the melted butter dribble down her chin. She licked her lips, laughed again without thinking and reached for her napkin. Too late.

He leaned across the table and touched his napkin to the edge of her mouth, then her chin. Her eyes locked with his. Her breath caught in her throat.

Then he drew back, looking embarrassed.

She wiped her mouth with her napkin, shaken. It had felt as if he were seeing her—not Jasmine. And for that instant, he’d looked at her with…desire—as if he could feel the chemistry bubbling between them and was as surprised about it as she was.

She dropped her gaze to her plate. “You’re a good cook.” It was the only thing she could think to say.

“Thank you.”

He took a bite of his own meal and she did the same. They ate for a few minutes in silence. And she soon lost herself again in the food. She couldn’t remember a meal that had ever tasted so wonderful and told him so.

“I’m happy to see you enjoying it,” he said smiling, but from his tone she knew she’d made another mistake, that he’d seen the card up her sleeve.