Sinclair Justice (Texas Rangers #2)(35)
For a moment, she lay back on the neatly made bed and closed her eyes, but seeing Sinclair’s Cheshire cat grin had hit her like a gut punch. She couldn’t squelch a dart of envy. Emm had no idea what she’d started; Abby had picked up immediately on the fact that her new friend was more of an egghead than a socialite. No doubt she’d had a number of boyfriends, but she would have few defenses against a man of the world, and a Ranger captain to boot, like Ross Sinclair. Abby had a feeling Emm’s life in Baltimore was about to take a big detour west.
Abby had moved to Texas from even farther away, and had few regrets despite the curiosity and sometimes outright prejudice she faced as an outsider. Even in England, her parents had been from Cornwall, the most southerly county in England and the most fiercely independent. When they passed about a year ago, she had been coming off a bad breakup with an Oxford don she’d met at a social event in London. He was the heir to a lower earldom but had long since lost his country house to taxes and the rising cost of upkeep. All that remained of his family’s wealth was a London townhome that needed a good polish, and his prickly pride, which made him extremely difficult to please. Had he not been absolutely brilliant, with a dozen best-selling tomes of British history under his belt, he’d have been let go from Oxford, too. He’d been twice divorced when she met him, and he’d had to court her to get a first date. Only when she quit MI6 to care for her parents in their last months had she really accepted his attentions.
Mentally, he was one of the only men she’d ever met with whom she was compatible, though even his analytical ability paled compared to hers. Physically, they were more than compatible; his creativity extended between the sheets. Even thinking about some of their role playing heated her in body parts she seldom thought about anymore. But emotionally? When she quit laughing at his sophisticated jokes and tried to open up a bit with the man she’d grown to love, he turned back to his books and froze her out. Even when her parents both passed within a week of each other, he didn’t come to the funerals. He was off to a new conquest, and only then, too late, had she realized he was a serial womanizer who got his self-worth as a man from the women he wooed and deserted.
In her quiet hotel room, Abby buried her face in her pillow and gave a frustrated grunt, which was as close as she came to an emotional outburst. Seeing Sinclair restless with a sensual need he could scarcely control made her realize it had been well over a year since her last partner. So what? Grimly, she moved the pillow away, tucked it back under the spread, and smoothed the fabric. Then she went to the mirror, combed back her disarranged hair, and tightened it even higher on her head, quelling her impulses with the same ruthless sense of order. Then she went to her evidence stash and opened a new box, sitting down with her checklist.
Saturday morning, Emm was more careful with her makeup than usual. She even penciled in a bit of eyeliner, wanting to look her best. For this couple she’d never met or for Ross? she asked her own flushed face in the mirror. “For myself,” she said firmly, turning away.
She’d dressed in the yellow sundress again as her wardrobe was too spare to allow for a new outfit every day, but she’d seen the appreciation in Ross’s eyes that night at his place when she last wore it. She slipped on low-heeled sandals and gold jewelry, spraying on a dab of her favorite rose-scented spritzer.
Lastly, just as the knock came at her hotel door promptly at eleven, she slipped the flowered shawl over her shoulders. Her smile stretched wider when she saw Ross. Usually he wore starched white shirts and black jeans. Today he was dressed in short sleeves that displayed his muscled, tanned arms and worn blue denim that clung to his thighs and other places she tried very hard not to notice but did.
” You look lovely,” he said, kissing her cheek. “I like that dress.”
“Ditto,” she said shyly.
He grinned. “You like my dress or I look lovely?”
He always looked lovely to her, and she suspected he was one of those men who would age so gracefully that he’d still be stunning at ninety. But she only shook her head at him and followed him out. “So tell me a bit about this couple.”
He helped her up into his big SUV. As he drove off, he said reflectively, “They met in a very strange way, almost as strange as the way you and I met. She was a suspect in Chad’s brother’s disappearance, and he went all the way to LA from Amarillo to grill her. Chad’s not much of a womanizer—he’s from a Ranger family turned ranchers from way back—and she led him quite a little dance, appropriately enough, as she was an exotic dancer. An exotic dancer working on her law degree at USC.” He smiled at obviously fond memories, but his smile faded as he said gravely, “She risked her life to help him catch the real perp, her onetime boss, but unfortunately they were too late to save Trey.”
“So Jasmine knew all along that they were a good fit?”
He shrugged. “Chad sure didn’t. He has brass cojones and an even harder skull, plus there was another redhead who confused the picture. But women are always better at that emotional stuff.” He sent her a sideways glance that made her so warm she had to slip the shawl off her shoulders. “Right?”
“So how does she like Texas?”
“Turned out she was from Houston until she ran away from home when she was eighteen. Chad contacted her father and helped reunite them, and that was all it took. They were married a few months later and within a year had little Trey. She’s almost finished with her law degree now. Her father is a judge.”