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She shrugged and tossed him the keys.
Traffic was light. Once they reached the highway, he hit the gas, pushing to the speed limit. Damn, he hoped he didn’t run into anyone who might know him while he was driving a Barbie car. He could feel his testosterone level dropping by the second. No wonder Ken didn’t have gonads.
Jillian stretched her arms over her head, openly enjoying the wind in her face. “You’re quite the control freak, Mr. FBI.”
Apparently, she read him as easily as those fairytales she collected. He frowned. “You have a problem with that?”
Her husky contralto chuckle tilted him dangerously off-kilter. “Do you? You might ask yourself why you prefer to be large and in charge at all times.”
He cranked up the radio, hoping she’d get the hint. Barry Gibb’s trademark Bee Gee falsetto wailed from the speakers.Argh,but better than her psycho-babble.
Undeterred, Jillian switched to rhapsodizing about how he could relax his uptight outlook with meditation.
After an eternity, he took the turnoff to the Surf-N-Sand Motel. Breathing a silent sigh, he pulled into a parking spot. He’d had about all of Ms. Cheerful’s life improvement suggestions he could handle. Peering at life through rose-colored glasses only skewed reality.
He was damaged goods, and no amount of touchy-feely crap would change that.
She pointed. “No vacancy.”
“I just checked out this morning. They’ll have something.”
Once inside, they discovered differently. Because of the summer tourist influx and the upcoming annual Cape Hope Kite Festival, the motel had immediately rented out his previous room. After receiving “the look” from Zane—which apparently still worked on everyone except Jillian—the young male clerk volunteered to call every lodging in the area.
Thirty frustrating minutes later, Zane’s hopes crashed and burned, along with his patience. The clerk stabbed the disconnect button. “Sorry, Sir. No luck, yet.” He punched in another number.
Sitting beside Zane on the driftwood loveseat, Jillian glanced at her phone. “Face it, nothing’s available. I need to get back to Casey. You’ll just have to stay with me.”
He frowned. “You always invite men you barely know to live with you?”
“Even before I sent you the first message about Casey, I had my neighbor run a check on you. A cop next door comes in handy. You have an impeccable record and reputation.”
Zane surged to his feet. “You didwhat?”he growled.
Jillian stood, planted her hands on her hips. “You don’t expect me to bring a perfect stranger into Casey’s life without investigating his character.”
“I’m an FBI agent.”
“So what? As you pointed out, I didn’t know you, and I’m the only one that little boy has to keep him safe.”
That snatched the wind from his wings. “I won’t stay with you.”
“Like there’s an option? You won’t find anything within a hundred miles.” She crinkled her nose at his scowl. “And don’t give me that fierce face. Let’s go.”
He crossed his arms. “I’m capable of finding a place to stay.”
“I’m fully aware of what you’re capable of, Wolfe.”
“You have no idea, lady,” he snarled. “No idea at all.”
Instead of turning tail and running like she should have, she laughed. “Rad, mad and dangerous, Mr. Big Bad? I grew up awash in a sea of testosterone, and I’m immune to macho bullshit. Now grab your bag and haul your gorgeous buns out to the car.”
Rose-colored glasses firmly situated, she sailed out.
Chapter 3
Jaw tight, Zane forced himself to follow Jillian to the car. She didn’t comment when he again folded himself into the driver’s seat.
Dreading another encounter with the child, the closer they got to the house, the more Zane tensed. The stiffness started in his forehead and neck, tension constricted his shoulders, his spine, and crept downward. By the time they arrived, even his toenails hurt.
