Page 28 of This Time Around
She looked down at the basket, then back up at him. “I told you the other night I’m not a nervous puker anymore.”
But she was definitely nervous. Jack could feel the tension radiating off her like shockwaves. It felt odd to have her on her knees in front of him, but she hadn’t made any move to stand up.
“Anyway,” she said, in a breezy tone that sounded a little forced, “I really don’t think a woven basket is the best receptacle for vomit.”
“Pardon me for forgetting my waterproof bucket. I’ll pick one up on my way home.”
“That would be helpful.”
He waited for her to say something else, but she’d gone quiet again. Her gaze was back on the cash, and she started to reach for one of the tight bundles.
“Wait!” he said. “Do we need to call the police or something?”
She turned and stared at him, hand poised over the stack of bills. “What for?”
“If this is connected to a crime, won’t they need to dust for fingerprints?”
Allie frowned. “A crime.”
“Right.”
He wasn’t going to be the one to say it. He didn’t know all the details of her parents’ trial, except that they’d been convicted of bilking investors out of hundreds of thousands of dollars. This had to be tied to it, right?
Allie didn’t respond right away, but she did drop her hand to her side. When she looked up at him again, she had more color in her cheeks.
“This has nothing to do with my parents.” Her voice was firm, and the fact that she’d read his thoughts in the first place should have been damn convincing. The old Jack would have taken her word for it. Would have just assumed his smarter-than-average fiancée with two lawyer parents would know more about law and finance than he would.
But the Jack who’d been through a failed engagement, the death of his wife, and a decade of single parenthood had a little more confidence in his own instincts.
A giant trunk full of cash was a big deal.
Besides, he’d seen the look on Allie’s face when she’d opened that trunk. She was as freaked out as he was. “Look, I’m just saying, you probably want to look into the legal side of things,” he said. “You know, make sure this won’t get you into any sort of trouble.”
“I’m confident it won’t,” she said, not sounding very confident. “I’m sure there’s a perfectly logical explanation.”
“Or a perfectly criminal one. You won’t know until you dig a little deeper, maybe talk to a lawyer.”
Something that looked like anger flashed in her eyes, and Jack wondered if he’d overstepped. But hell, he’d read the articles during her parents’ trial. From what he understood, her mother had been the ringleader, though her dad had at least been complicit in the scam. That made sense, based on what Jack remembered of the woman he used to call the Ice Queen and the friendly, good-natured guy she’d always seemed to bulldoze. How many families had they bilked out of their life savings? Didn’t Allie owe it to the families to make sure this wasn’t connected?
Allie studied him a moment longer, her expression more guarded than anything. Maybe he’d imagined the anger. She gave a tight nod, then closed the lid on the trunk. Wiping her hands down the legs of her jeans, she stood up and looked him in the eye.
“You’re right,” she said.
“What?”
“About looking into the legal aspects of it. I’ll do that, thank you.”
Something was off here. He wasn’t used to hearing you’re right coming out of her mouth. Had she ever said that before? Not once, he was pretty sure. Then again, how often had he actually been right? He’d be the first to admit he hadn’t been the most astute eighteen-year-old on the planet. He’d made mistakes, plenty of them, but then again, so had she.
His addled brain was so focused on the novelty of her words that he didn’t realize she’d moved closer. That Allie was standing near enough for the side of her breast to graze his arm as she reached past him to put the Easter basket back on the shelf. Her sweater rode up, exposing a swath of pale skin on her low back. He saw something that might’ve been the top edge of a tattoo, but that seemed unlikely, and he was more interested in the hint of a lacy lavender thong above her jeans. God, did she still wear sexy underwear? It had always driven him wild, the thought of her all buttoned-up in conservative slacks and cashmere turtlenecks, while underneath, she was gift-wrapped in satin and lace.
She set the basket on the shelf and stood facing him, eyes locking with his. She was so close, close enough for him to feel the heat of her abdomen against his bare forearms. He watched her rub her lips together slowly, the way she used to just before he kissed her, and Jack wondered if her pink sweater was as soft as it looked.
“I’ll deal with the chest later,” she murmured. “Right now, we should stay focused.” She made no move to step away, and he felt her breath against his throat.
“Yes,” he replied, aware of a buzzing sound in the back of his own brain. Of the static swirling in her hair and the smell of vanilla and honey enveloping him in a cloud of lust.
Allie didn’t move back toward the boxes. She moved closer, and for an instant, Jack thought she was reaching for him. Instead, she stretched up again, breast pressing into his arm once more as she stood on tiptoe to inspect the shelf over his shoulder.
