07 It Had to Be You Read online

  She stared at him for a long moment. Luke didn’t have to work at looking genuine, because he’d spoken the utter truth.

  “You won’t be sorry,” she finally said. “Or hungry.” And then she vanished down the hall.

  Luke didn’t like to disagree with a pretty woman, but he had a feeling she was going to be dead wrong on at least one of those points.

  Chapter 3

  Luke followed his unintentional houseguest to the master bedroom.

  His grandma’s old room.

  Clamping down on the memories, he stopped in the doorway, happy to note that it didn’t look like his grandma’s room. There were clothes and shoes and bottles and jars of stuff everywhere. It looked like a girl-bomb had gone off.

  “Did I tell you that I love your house?” Sexy-Crazy-Nearly-Naked Tenant asked, coming out of the attached bathroom.

  But she was no longer nearly naked. She’d buttoned up and added a pair of jeans. Her feet were still bare though. Her toes were painted sky blue, with little daisy decals on the big toe.

  And he had no idea why he was checking out her toes.

  None.

  Twisting up her hair, she sailed by him and out the bedroom door, once again leaving him to follow after her.

  “So you filled out some apartment applications?” he asked.

  “Yes.” She walked into the kitchen, where she grabbed a watering can from beneath the sink and filled it.

  “Any background checks?”

  “No. Why?”

  “I ran one on Marshall before he moved in here,” he said.

  She stared at him. “You did?”

  He nodded. Being a detective, he often dealt with the dregs of society, the bottom feeders and the ones who’d sell their own mother’s soul to the devil. In Luke’s world, trust was not a given; it was earned. “If I’d known you were living here, I’d have done one on you too.”

  “Oh.” Her voice was different now, which had him taking another look at her. She’d dropped eye contact and was biting her lower lip.

  Ah, shit. She had something to hide. “Would that have been a problem?” he asked.

  “No. Nope, not at all.”

  He raised a brow.

  “Really,” she said.

  “The search program I have on my laptop is pretty intense,” he said.

  “Intense, like…you could see my third grade teacher and when I stopped believing in the Tooth Fairy?” she asked. “Stuff like that?”

  “Yeah,” he said dryly. “Stuff just like that.”

  “Fine. Do it.”

  “What’s your name?” he asked.

  “Ali Winters. Ali with an ‘i.’”

  He pulled his laptop out of his duffle bag. “Let’s see what comes up.”

  “Sure.” She shifted back and forth on her bare feet while he worked. He hadn’t been kidding; this program was pretty damn invasive. It came in handy when he was hunting down suspects. Not so handy for running a background check on cute, hazel-eyed houseguests, because he was bound to find out far more than he needed.

  The basics began to spit out, including a list of her previous known addresses, her age, job history, public records, etc. Ali-with-an-i was twenty-six, and her listings for previous addresses were fifteen deep, most in and around White Center and Burien, both just below Seattle. A longer look told him that ten of them had been before the age of eighteen.

  She’d been questioned by the police a handful of times, thanks to being related to a Harper Winters—her sister—who’d been arrested for petty theft and assault after stealing a Peeping Tom neighbor’s binoculars and beating him over the head with them. And then again when her mother—Mimi Winters—had threatened a lowlife ex’s life by chasing him down the street with her car.

  Ali herself had steered clear of any arrests. She’d gone to a junior college and worked as a singer in a casino/hotel lounge and at a flower shop.

  “Is it bad?” she asked, leaning over his shoulder, seeming torn between wanting to know and not wanting to know.

  He craned his neck and looked at her. “You’re a singer?”

  “Not even a little bit. I gave up the singing job when I got jumped by a Cher impersonator for forgetting the words to that ‘do you believe in life after love’ song. But I got to keep my clothes on, and the tips were good. Plus I got my associate’s degree with no student loans.” She moved into the living room and began to water the plants scattered throughout the big, open space. There were several large ceramic pots on either side of the couch and beneath the picture windows. Several smaller pots were scattered around on shelves and the coffee table.

  This was new. Luke’s grandma had been warm and funny and bossy as hell, fiercely loving all who crossed her path—except plants. Plants she’d killed with just a look, including the supposedly invincible cacti. “Where did these come from?” he asked.

  “Me,” Ali said. “This house is so wonderful, all old and filled with character and charm…” Her smile was a little wistful. “But it needed…life. Besides feeding you, I’ll take care of the plants.”

  “They’re your plants.”

  “Hmm.”

  Hmm? What did hmm mean?

  “Your yard’s a mess,” she noted casually. “You’ve got smooth douglasia and piper’s bellflower out there, and they’re being choked to death by the red willow-herb. And the Indian paintbrush…do you have any idea how hard it is to grow that?”

  “I’m not looking for a gardener. Or a tenant,” he said, seeing where this was going. He rubbed the ache between his brows. “I’m not looking for anything or anyone, just some peace and quiet.” Which wasn’t to say that he didn’t want a woman. He wouldn’t mind that, though it’d be fourth on his list after sleep, food, and more sleep, but yeah, he’d absolutely take a warm, sexy, naked woman under him. Over him.

  However she desired…

  But not this woman, no matter how attractive he found her. Because this woman had a set of eyes that had so much life and emotion in them, he’d drown in her.

  The house phone rang, and they both looked at it. “Is that your personal line?” he asked. “Or Marshall’s?”

  “Well, it started out Teddy’s,” she said. “But I use it too.”

  He gestured for her to go ahead and answer it then, since it couldn’t be for him. Few if any knew he was here. Certainly not his commander, who was still pissed off that Luke had taken time off in the middle of the media shitstorm. And not his parents or his sister, Sara.

  The only people who might know—his two closest friends, Jack and Ben—were working. Jack, right here in Lucky Harbor as a firefighter, and Ben, off saving the world. Somewhere.

  Ben, who’d suffered his own unimaginable losses, would have known to leave Luke alone, but not Jack. Jack would sniff him out sooner rather than later, but Luke wanted to have his head on straight first, because no one saw through him like Jack did.

  Ali had answered the phone and was frowning. “You’re looking for who?” she asked. “Detective Lieutenant Luke Hanover?” She slid Luke a long look.

  People usually had one of two reactions when finding out that he was in law enforcement: They either wanted to see his gun and be shown some self-defense moves, or they ran like hell.

  Ali’s reaction was somewhere in between, but Luke didn’t care. What he cared about was not having anyone know he was here. He shook his head with a “hell no” look. He had no idea how whoever was looking for him had gotten this number but he was not here.

  “How did you get this number?” she asked whoever was on the phone.

  Luke liked the question and wondered at the answer.

  “Uh-huh,” she said, still looking at Luke. “I see.”

  Luke pointed to himself and shook his head, his message implicitly evident: He was not here.

  Ali gave him a sweet smile and then lifted a single finger, indicating that she needed a minute.

  Luke gave her his best intimidation stare—which was completely wasted on h