Nobody's Fool (8 page)

Holly's guard slipped into place. “Why do you want to know?”

“I'm curious and we've exhausted my love life.”

Holly snorted into her latte. “I doubt we've even scratched the surface of your love life.”

“Tell me.”

“Tell you what?” Holly hedged, not sure she wanted to discuss her relationship with Josh.

“How long have you and Steve been an item?”

“His name is Steven; he doesn't like to be called Steve. And we've been together for six years.”

He whistled. “Sounds serious. You going to marry him?”

“No,” she said. “We don't believe in marriage.” And they didn't, or else they might be married by now. Or not. It didn't matter. “Marriage is an outdated institution.”

“Really?” He tilted his head. “Since when?”

“Oh, come on, Joshua.” What was it Steven said? “The idea of a man and a woman staying in a monogamous relationship for years and years is antiquated.”

Josh raised his eyebrows.

Holly squelched the tiny part of her that was just as doubtful. “People change, they grow, and most of the time they grow away from each other. The world moves too fast these days to hold on to some sort of sweet, outdated romanticism.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Marriage was only a secure position for women who had no means of supporting themselves once they had children. Nowadays, women don't need a safeguard; ergo women don't need to enslave themselves in an institution that fundamentally disadvantages them.”

He grunted and narrowed his eyes. “That's quite a theory you have there, Holly. What does Steve say?”

“Steven.” He was doing it on purpose. “And we are in perfect agreement on the matter.”

“Help me here, Holly?”

She bristled at the soft underlying challenge in his voice.

“How does this theory of yours work in practice?”

“What do you mean?” Where the hell was he going with this?

“How does it work?” He shrugged. “According to you, the idea of a man and a woman in a long-term, monogamous relationship is antiquated?”

“We have an open and mature relationship.” Holly huffed and drained her coffee cup. She couldn't quite meet his eye. This bit always stuck in her throat when Steven brought it up. She wasn't going to share that with Josh.

“ ‘Open and mature'?” His eyes didn't waver from her face, and the skin on her neck and cheeks warmed. “How open? Like seeing other people open?”

“Yes. No. I don't know. Steven and I believe in not putting labels on things and restricting them. We enjoy what we have and take each other as we are.”

“Interesting,” he said, challenge overloading every syllable. “And how open have you been in this relationship, and how open is Steve the Swinger?”

“He isn't a swinger.” Holly's hackles came up. “And I have never felt the need to have my needs met outside of our relationship.” She never asked and Steven never told her if he did. She didn't want to think about that.

“So Stevie keeps you happy and satisfied, does he?”

“Yes.”

“In bed?”

His question rocked her back. Where did he get off asking her stuff like that?

“I don't have to answer that.” Holly leaped to her feet, done with this conversation. “That is absolutely none of your business.”

There was nothing wrong with her relationship with Steven. It was the way both of them liked it.

“You know what I think, Holly?” Josh calmly ignored her outrage and turned back to his coffee machine.

“No, and I don't care.”

He chuckled, but not nicely. “I think you're kidding yourselves.”

“I don't care what you think.” Her voice rose, and she was sorry now she hadn't left him to sulk.

“I think your Stevie has got this rigged to suit himself.”

“What bloody rot. You have no understanding of a . . . a mature and . . . giving relationship that allows both partners to develop and grow.”

“You're right.” He turned and propped his hips on the counter. “I don't know anything about that. I tell you what, though, Holly. I sure as hell wouldn't let some other man touch my woman, and I would make damn sure anyone who came sniffing around her knew it.”

“That's barbaric and sexist.”

“Could be, but I don't share, and I sure as shit wouldn't share you.”

“It's a good thing we'll never have to put that to the test.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. He opened his mouth, shut it again, and shook his head.

“What?” Holly demanded.

“Nothing.” He grabbed her coffee cup. “Do you want another one?”

Storming off versus another cup of coffee; no contest. “You have no right to attack my relationship. You're only doing this because you're still mad about last night.”

He made a rude noise and turned to make her coffee.

Holly was forced to study his rather delicious back and fulminate in silence. A caveman like Josh Hunter would have no way of understanding the kind of sophisticated bond shared by two self-actualized adults.

He put a fresh latte in front of her and stood on the other side of the counter looking delectable.

“Who are you to judge anyway?” Holly narrowed her eyes at him, but he remained impervious to her displeasure. “You bounce from one woman to another.”

“Used to.” He held up one large, rough finger. “I've grown up since then. I remain faithful to one woman for as long as I'm seeing her. And I'm sorry to break it to you, Holly, but any man who says he wants an open relationship is trying to get the milk without buying the cow.”

She gaped at him. Outrage boiled up inside her. “You're disgusting. And what you're saying is utter bullshit.”

He tilted his head to the side and stared.

“That is such crap. Steven is nothing like you.” She was inches away from tossing her latte at him. “He's comfortable with his feminine side. He always understands my feelings and needs. He doesn't crowd me or try to turn me into a possession. He is cultured, well read, thoughtful, sensitive, and considerate.”

His eyes bored into her.

Holly glared right back. She wanted to fry him with her eyes.

Suddenly, he shook his head. “You know what, Holly? You're right.” He walked forward and propped his elbows on the counter in front of her. “Your relationship is nothing to do with me. If it works for you, great.”

She sensed more. “But?”

He shrugged. “You're a beautiful woman, you're smart, funny, and strong as hell. A woman like you deserves a man who is in it so deep he doesn't want to see daylight again.”

“Oh.” She deflated like a balloon. “Some of us don't want that sort of relationship.”

“Really?” His face softened and took her breath with it.

“Yes, really.” Holly's hand trembled and she almost dropped her cup down on the counter. Coffee sloshed over the rim.

His gaze searched her face, too close and too intent.

“I need to get dressed.” She just about leaped off her bar stool and ran away. The sweatpants tangled with her feet and ruined her exit. She stopped and tugged them up again. Josh Hunter didn't get her at all.

In it so deep he doesn't want to see daylight again
. The girl in her sighed. How would that feel?

Not like her. She yanked the sweatpants up. She wasn't that sort of girl. Today, she would contact Grace and have Grace book her a hotel.

Josh Hunter messed with her head and she let him. He didn't know her. And he for sure didn't get her or Steven. Tracking him down had been a mistake. She should have left the man in the past, where he belonged.

He had no right to judge her or to make her feel . . . restless.

Truce! Like hell!

She stalked into the bathroom and slammed the door behind her for good measure. It gave off a satisfying reverberation through the apartment. Holly approached the shower and stopped. She'd meant to ask Josh how to use it. But it would be a cold day in hell before she did that.

She strode toward the chrome and granite monster occupying almost the entire length of the back wall. She was an intelligent woman. She could work this out without having to ask for his help. The various dials and levers stared back at her. Okay, this couldn't be rocket science. You had hot and you had cold.

“Do you need any help?”

Holly jumped and leaped around. “What the hell are you doing?” Her eyes bugged out of her head. “I could have been naked in here.”

He leaned on the doorjamb, looking like an open invitation to be a bad, bad girl. “Now why didn't I think of that?”

Holly's face heated to the hairline. She opened her mouth to blast him, but her mind had emptied.

“Anyway, I brought you these.” He held a package in his hand. “These are some briefs, never been used. Your clothes are on the bed. I put them in the dryer earlier this morning, so they're good to go.”

“Thanks.” Holly forced it past her teeth. He was being considerate and her anger sounded ungracious.

“Now who's sulking?” He gave her a satisfied grin, which made her want to smack his face.

“You had no right to say what you did.” Holly was horrified to hear her voice shake a bit.

“You're right. I should have kept my opinion to myself.” He moved toward the shower and started turning things. “Okay, this is for the overhead spray.” He launched into a rapid-fire explanation, forcing Holly to pay attention.

She desperately wanted to keep arguing. He didn't understand how things were between her and Steven. If he did, he wouldn't be saying such inane things.

“I take it you want to head out as soon as possible?”

Holly gave him a stiff nod.

“Okay,” he said. “I'll get changed and we can get some breakfast.” He adjusted the temperature for her and stepped back.

“Start with a shirt.” She didn't get why he insisted on walking around like some pinup.

“Why, Holly.” He folded his arms over his chest. Biceps bulged beneath the skin. The son of a bitch was doing this on purpose. “You don't think I'm hot anymore?”

“Out.” Holly pointed to the door.

He took a step toward her. “Are you sure?”

Holly backed away, cursing herself for being such a wimp while at the same time responding to a base need for self-preservation.

He took another step, and so did she. His bare skin radiated a heat that enveloped her and her breath got tricky, like breathing through smoke. Her back hit the vanity and she stopped, helpless as he closed the distance.

He leaned forward and put his hands next to her hips, caging her between his arms. “There's a spare toothbrush in the vanity,” he said against her ear.

Her skin broke out in goose bumps. “Um, thanks.”

He was much too close.

She pushed against his chest with both her hands. The skin of his chest burned an impression onto her palms. Her hands stuck to him as if fixed there. Holly gave a stronger push. “Just back off.”

“Careful, Holly, you might hurt my feelings.”

“Then I'm aiming too far north.” She snatched her tingling hands back.

The door shut on him laughing.

“I'm only using you to find my sister.” She glared at the solid panel of wood, willing it to turn into his smug, insufferable face so she could kick it.

“Sure you are,” came the cocky response.

Chapter Nine

Holly locked the bathroom door before she shed her clothes. It might have taken an engineering degree to turn it on, but the shower was heavenly. Water streamed over her tired muscles and worked pure bliss on her aches and kinks. She allowed herself the small luxury before reluctantly snapping off the jets, long before they'd worked their magic. She wouldn't put it past Josh to get impatient and bang on the door.

She wrapped herself in a huge, fluffy towel before carefully sticking her head around the bedroom door. On the bed were her clothes, as promised, and the unopened package of boxer shorts. Holly picked them up and examined them. This was as close as she intended to get to being in Josh Hunter's pants.

He'd thrown her off balance before, but she would recover. She was thirty years old and she didn't need to behave like she had in school. She would be firm, assertive, and polite. The impulse to storm off was childish, and there was no need cutting off her nose to spite her face. He could help her and, right now, she needed help.

Holly put the comb on the dresser to good use, working through the snarled mess on her head. Her scalp was raw by the time she had untangled the worst of the knots, but she was much calmer. She patted her hair into a semblance of normal. It was going to dry into a crazy mess of curls, but there was nothing she could do about it.

Holly pulled on her clothes. That was better. She was back again. Her phone buzzed as she opened the door and stepped into the hallway. It was a message from Steven, wishing her luck with Portia and asking if she would be back by the weekend. He had a faculty dinner he wanted her to attend with him.

“Ready to go?” Josh appeared in the hallway, showered and dressed in jeans and a casual shirt. He looked a million dollars to her buck thirty.

Holly firmly tucked her insecure teenager back in its place and gave him a cool smile. “Yes, thanks to you.”

“We should get you some clothes.” His gaze scanned her from top to toe.

The idea of new clothes sent a bolt of delight through her. The teenager clamored to be set free and spend, spend, spend, but Holly wouldn't let her.

“No money, remember.” She tossed his offer back as if she didn't care about clothes and certainly didn't care what other people thought of her clothes, which she didn't. Getting dressed up to impress other people was superficial and pointless.

“I can buy you some stuff to tide you over,” he said.

“No, you can't.” No way in hell she wanted to owe him even more. She brushed past him and got a knee-threatening whiff of warm man and citrus. “I already owe you more than I can possibly repay.”

“I'm not keeping score,” he said from behind her.

“I am.” Holly ignored the frown thundering over his eyes. “Now, what's our next step?”

“Food,” he said. “There's a great place down the street.”

“I think we should get going straightaway.” Holly didn't want to spend precious time over a meal. Portia was still out there. Somewhere.

“We have a bit of time.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “I've been busy this morning, and I can tell you about it while we eat.”

“Busy doing what?”

“Finding your sister.” Josh dug his keys out of his pocket and strolled away.

Holly followed in his wake, grabbing her damp shoes on the way past.

“Aren't we going to get something here?” The gourmet kitchen would have made a foodie weep for joy.

“I don't cook,” he said, as if it explained everything.

“Then why . . .” She motioned toward the kitchen and stopped. “Never mind, but you'll have to buy.”

“But of course.” He grinned at her over his shoulder. “A barbarian like me would never let a lady pay for her own meal.”

Holly glared at his back. “You looking for trouble, pretty boy?”

He stopped in the hallway outside the apartment and turned to look at her. “I tell you what,” he said with exaggerated patience, “you stop calling me pretty boy and I'll stop pushing your buttons.”

“As if you knew which buttons to push,” she said.

The look in his eyes said he wasn't buying.

“Deal.” She held out her hand because she might as well face it, he so did know how to get a reaction out of her.

He enfolded her hand in a warm clasp.

Happy tingles danced out from the point of contact. She held on to his hand longer than strictly necessary. She dropped it. “Are you going to feed me or what?”

“I'm going to feed you.” He stared at her. He did that a lot, as if he was trying to piece her together. “And then I'm going to tell you about the progress I've made.”

Holly backed two steps away from him and out of line of sight. Josh Hunter needed to stay out of her head. “I should call my other sister, Grace.”

“Do you need a phone?”

“Nope.” Holly stood at the elevator as he locked the door. “It was the one thing not in my car.”

“We should call about getting you a passport,” he said as the elevator car arrived and they stepped in.

She would put it on her list. Holly dialed her sister.

The elevator stopped on the third floor and a woman got in.

“Hey, Josh.” The woman's attractive face split in a warm smile of welcome that could have lit up the sky.

Well dressed, attractive, twentysomething with killer shoes—your basic nightmare. “Haven't seen you in a while.” The woman cooed and fluttered at Josh.

Here they went again. Holly barely stopped her eye roll in time.

“Hi, Michelle.” He gave the woman a friendly enough smile, but it was cool and nothing like the way he smiled at her.

So not the bloody point.

“What have you been doing with yourself?” Michelle pressed closer to Josh.

Josh stepped closer to Holly. “This and that.”

“I bet you have.” Michelle followed and put a red lacquered hand on his arm. “All party, party, party in your world.”

“Well, you know me,” Josh said. A tiny muscle jumped in the side of his jaw.

Holly tried not to look like she was listening.

“We all know you.” Michelle simpered and stroked his arm. “And you know if the party should ever swing my way . . .”

The jaw muscle went into overdrive. “I'll keep that in mind.”

The elevator pinged to a stop and Michelle stepped out. She turned and waggled her fingers at Josh.

He gave a tight smile and jabbed the Close Door button.

“Is she—?”

“No.” His jammed his hands in his pockets.

Holly stared at him. He didn't react to the woman at all the way she would have expected. “You don't have to hold back because of me.”

His angry gaze nearly blasted her right out of the elevator. “And you're so sure I would?”

“Well, I—”

“Because you know me so well. Right, Holly? Josh the player, the pretty boy. Never lets a hot ass pass him by. Even if she's married.”

Holly had no idea where that little tirade had come from. Seems Josh Hunter had a couple of his own buttons.

“This is Grace.” Her sister's brusque greeting rescued her.

“Hey, Gracie, it's Holly.”

“Oh, hi.” And immediately her sister's voice grew guarded.

Grace had left home for university at eighteen and never looked back.

Holly had elected to stay with Emma and Portia and look after them. There were times when she resented Grace her freedom, but it didn't take a genius to understand Grace's choice. Grace had seen her gap and taken it.

The elevator stopped at the lobby and they stepped out.

“This isn't a good time,” Grace said.

“Josh,
darling
, is that you?” A curvy blonde stepped right in front of Josh. “You look great.”

The blonde eyed him up and down as if she wanted to take a lick from his toes to his head. She crowded Holly to the side.

Josh gave the blonde his cool smile and greeted her. Then he stepped around the blonde and took Holly's elbow.

“Yes, I know you're probably at work.” Holly bit her tongue from pointing out it was never a good time for Grace to hear from her family. “I'm sorry, but it's urgent.”

She spoke quickly, before Grace could launch into the million and one reasons why she couldn't have this conversation now. A million and one reasons why she didn't want to be dragged back into the messy Partridge family.

“Is someone ill?” Grace liked to pretend she didn't care, but Holly detected the smallest note of something in her sister's cool question that Grace was still there. Inside the big shot corporate lawyer with the perfect, big shot corporate mover-and-shaker husband lurked the same Grace Partridge who used to sit at the kitchen table with her big sister, Holly, as they weathered the storm raging around them.

Josh steered her through the glass entrance doors and into the morning. The sun bounced off the pavement and speared her in the eyeballs.

“It's Portia.” Holly cut to the chase as she blinked furiously against the light. “She's gone missing. She left four days ago and told Emma, but Emma didn't say anything until yesterday morning.”

“Say that again.” Grace's voice grew clipped and abrupt, like it did when she was keeping a tight rein on her emotions.

Holly repeated her story.

“Emma is so damn stupid sometimes,” Grace said. “What reason did she give for keeping this from you?”

“I didn't ask.” Holly didn't need Grace holding forth on the subject of Emma. “Anyway, it seems Portia called and scared Emma, and that's when Emma got the bright idea to share. I tracked Portia to Chicago, but I'm drawing a blank here.”

Dead silence settled over the phone.

“Is she off the meds?”

“Yup.” God, it made Holly's head want to explode. “I searched her room before I left. She's been off them for awhile. It's hard to tell how long, but there's at least two months' supply in her dresser.”

“Ah, shit.” Grace took a deep breath. “She went to Chicago? What the hell for?”

“Emma is convinced it has something to do with Melissa.”

Grace gasped. “Do you think she knows?”

“I never told her.” Holly threw a cautionary look at Josh, but he was busy air-kissing another woman, this one quite a bit older, but still looking at him as if he hung the moon and stars.

“I don't think she knows.” But what if Portia did know? Then they could be heading for a major freak-out. She and Grace, by tacit agreement, had kept from the twins the full and ugly truth. “But I think Emma is right. This has definitely got something to do with Melissa.”

Josh took a pair of shades from his top pocket and slipped them over her nose.

The relief from the morning sun was immediate. It was hard to resent a man who kept making the bad things go away.

He kept his grip light as he guided her down the street, his touch warm through the bulk of her sweatshirt. A small trickle of sweat tickled its way down her side. She could take Josh up on his offer of buying her clothes, but already the murky waters of obligation lapped at her chin.

“Did you call
him
?” Grace never said their father's name. And neither of them called Melissa mom. They were so screwed up.

“Do you think I should?”

“Why bother?” The anger rode Grace hard and came crackling down the phone lines. “He's too busy with his new family, and at least they aren't ugly and broken like his old one.”

“Ah, Gracie.” The unbearable weight of her sister's sadness settled over her shoulders. She'd been unable to protect Grace from this. The twins were seven years younger, and she'd kept the worst of it away from them. But Grace, two years her junior, had been right there with her, front and center and directly in the firing line. “He is the way he is.”

Latin temperament, their father had called Melissa's illness. Her behavior had been blamed on her hot Venezuelan blood. It made her a handful to live with. She was fiery and passionate and prone to dark moods, but there was nothing wrong with his wife. He'd left for work each morning and never bothered to ask how the girls got to school, got fed, and managed those things that kept life running smoothly. It had taken Holly until the middle of her teens to put a name to her mother's behavior.

“Don't make excuses for him,” Grace said.

They reached a small, bistro-style restaurant, and Holly delivered the rest of the bad news to her sister. The hostess, naturally, wriggled around Josh eagerly. She led them to a table, but stopped to chat with Josh before she left.

“Are you all right?” Grace asked.

“Um . . . yes, I'm all right.”

Josh exchanged greetings with a young couple at the table next to them.

“I have some help.”

Josh excused himself from his conversation and took a call, listening intently to the person on the other side.

“Who?”

“Er . . . you're not going to believe this.”

“Tell me.” Grace's voice livened with interest.

“Josh Hunter.”

Josh glanced up at the sound of his name, but Holly shook her head.

“You're kidding me!” Grace's voice yelped loud over the phone lines.

“Nope.”

“You're serious?”

Holly held the phone away from her ear as Grace cackled loudly.

Josh's brows shot to his hairline.

“Josh Hunter is helping you?” Grace gasped, and Holly brought the phone back to her ear. “How the hell did that happen?”