body didn’t know how to be cautious with her. His heartbeat quickened and tension worked its way through him. The damp tendrils framed Jasmine’s face, begging his hand to push them out of the way. How easy it would be to walk over, yank her against him, and kiss the hell out of her. Get it out of his system. Maybe her lips wouldn’t taste as exotic as his body remembered.
He wished he still had the right to steal her very breath then kiss her lips to softness.
“Old man Peterson should fix that light,” he said to distract himself.
“Mr. Peterson died a year ago. His son takes care of the place now.” She shifted the bag to her other arm. “What do you want, Luke?”
You. Naked in my bed two years ago, explaining what really caused you to walk out on me. “I need more information for the next article.”
“Use what’s in the press releases. No way am I giving you an interview.”
“If I don’t get it, my editor will send someone else. Might as well admit you can’t get out of the discussion. Just start with something simple. Where’d you grow up?”
Her eyes flickered and shifted left. The back of his neck bristled and the tingle in his temple returned. Don’t lie to me, Jasmine. He knew from experience that lies begat lies, and secrets led to blackmail and bad choices. Things that could corrupt cops.
In his jacket he held the true answer to his question: a twelve-year-old notice from the Sierra County Sentinel in New Mexico, a small weekly press with fewer than five thousand subscribers and no database. Only the old-fashioned clipping service had discovered the truth misplaced in its archives.
She swallowed and met his stare before pulling away from him. “Fine. I grew up in Idaho. Now will you leave?”
“You’re lying…Jane.” He closed in on her, cornering her against the hard concrete of her apartment building. “Truth or Consequences, New Mexico, is a long way from Idaho. Imagine my surprise when my investigator tracked down the legal notice. Jane Sanford, ex-ward of the state of New Mexico, legally became Jasmine Parker on her fifteenth birthday.”
Her face drained of color. Her shock gave him no pleasure, no satisfaction, but she couldn’t know how seeing that fax come in through his office had sent him reeling in disbelief. Her life was a fabrication. He’d given her a chance to tell the truth, and she’d lied anyway. Now he wanted to know why, and he would find out…one way or another.
A car door slammed in the parking lot. Luke lowered his voice. “I don’t think we want to have this conversation in a stairwell, do you?”
“I don’t want to talk to you at all.”
“Not an option anymore and you know it.”
She scanned the area, and the chatter of a family coming toward them seemed to make up her mind. “Fine. Come on.”
Jasmine resettled the duffel on her shoulder, unlocked the door at the base of the stairwell, and hurried into the apartment building. Luke followed in silence.
As he strode into the apartment he hadn’t entered in two years, he studied the tidy room and for the first time noticed how little of Jasmine he saw here: no photos, only a few knickknacks, nothing on the bookshelf but official-looking training manuals, nothing to give him a hint of who she was or used to be. The scene was in stark contrast to his own house, with its wall of memories and photographs of each and every family member at nearly every important event in their lives.
Perhaps he hadn’t wanted to look beyond the passion between them in the past, but as she faced him in the center of the room, hazel eyes darkened, flashing green as she glared, memories assailed him. A touch football game at his mother’s house, a touchdown, an illegal tackle in the end zone culminating in a kiss. Jasmine sitting on the porch swing in the backyard, watching him and his brothers battle it out in volleyball, her expression surprisingly wistful. The longing on her face had been so deep he’d
He wished he still had the right to steal her very breath then kiss her lips to softness.
“Old man Peterson should fix that light,” he said to distract himself.
“Mr. Peterson died a year ago. His son takes care of the place now.” She shifted the bag to her other arm. “What do you want, Luke?”
You. Naked in my bed two years ago, explaining what really caused you to walk out on me. “I need more information for the next article.”
“Use what’s in the press releases. No way am I giving you an interview.”
“If I don’t get it, my editor will send someone else. Might as well admit you can’t get out of the discussion. Just start with something simple. Where’d you grow up?”
Her eyes flickered and shifted left. The back of his neck bristled and the tingle in his temple returned. Don’t lie to me, Jasmine. He knew from experience that lies begat lies, and secrets led to blackmail and bad choices. Things that could corrupt cops.
In his jacket he held the true answer to his question: a twelve-year-old notice from the Sierra County Sentinel in New Mexico, a small weekly press with fewer than five thousand subscribers and no database. Only the old-fashioned clipping service had discovered the truth misplaced in its archives.
She swallowed and met his stare before pulling away from him. “Fine. I grew up in Idaho. Now will you leave?”
“You’re lying…Jane.” He closed in on her, cornering her against the hard concrete of her apartment building. “Truth or Consequences, New Mexico, is a long way from Idaho. Imagine my surprise when my investigator tracked down the legal notice. Jane Sanford, ex-ward of the state of New Mexico, legally became Jasmine Parker on her fifteenth birthday.”
Her face drained of color. Her shock gave him no pleasure, no satisfaction, but she couldn’t know how seeing that fax come in through his office had sent him reeling in disbelief. Her life was a fabrication. He’d given her a chance to tell the truth, and she’d lied anyway. Now he wanted to know why, and he would find out…one way or another.
A car door slammed in the parking lot. Luke lowered his voice. “I don’t think we want to have this conversation in a stairwell, do you?”
“I don’t want to talk to you at all.”
“Not an option anymore and you know it.”
She scanned the area, and the chatter of a family coming toward them seemed to make up her mind. “Fine. Come on.”
Jasmine resettled the duffel on her shoulder, unlocked the door at the base of the stairwell, and hurried into the apartment building. Luke followed in silence.
As he strode into the apartment he hadn’t entered in two years, he studied the tidy room and for the first time noticed how little of Jasmine he saw here: no photos, only a few knickknacks, nothing on the bookshelf but official-looking training manuals, nothing to give him a hint of who she was or used to be. The scene was in stark contrast to his own house, with its wall of memories and photographs of each and every family member at nearly every important event in their lives.
Perhaps he hadn’t wanted to look beyond the passion between them in the past, but as she faced him in the center of the room, hazel eyes darkened, flashing green as she glared, memories assailed him. A touch football game at his mother’s house, a touchdown, an illegal tackle in the end zone culminating in a kiss. Jasmine sitting on the porch swing in the backyard, watching him and his brothers battle it out in volleyball, her expression surprisingly wistful. The longing on her face had been so deep he’d
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