Page 29 of Gentle Persuasion

“Buddy wants to cook dinner.”

Cole leaned his head back and laughed. He looked down at her face, saw the barely concealed distress, and laughed again.

“I’ll try not to be late,” he chuckled. “However, if I am, don’t feel obligated to hold dinner for me. I’ll just grab a bite somewhere else.”

“You’re lying and you know it.” She sighed. “For two cents, I’d go with you. I don’t know if my stomach can stand four courses of sweets.”

Cole’s voice was gentle as he leaned down and swept a quick kiss across her forehead.

“For less than that, I’d take you with me.” His dark eyes raked the slender curves beneath her floppy shirt. And then he shrugged. “But duty calls, at least it will, if I don’t get myself back in gear. Take care, girl.”

Debbie’s tone was light, but the shadows in her eyes told him that she dreaded to see him go. “You, too,” she said, and absently patted the holster beneath his jacket.

He grabbed her hand, holding it gently but firmly as he made her look at him. He needed to see that the fear wasn’t there. He had to assure himself that she wasn’t about to fly to pieces over where he was going.

She pulled her hand away and gave the jacket one more pat.

“Just checking,” she said. “Wouldn’t want you to leave without all your…bulges in place.” She made a theatrical leer at the one behind his zipper and then grinned as he blushed.

“I’m already gone,” Cole muttered. “Hell, it’s safer out on the streets than it is here with you.”

“Maybe,” Debbie said. “But here, you wouldn’t need a gun. I’d go easy.”

God almighty! Cole made a beeline for the door. He didn’t have time to pursue this interesting line of questioning. And, he had no desire to return to work in any kind of shape that would require explanations. He ignored the ache behind his zipper and focused on the one in his heart. When he got back, Deborah Jean Randall owed him more than answers. He’d been teased and tortured past his limit.

Chapter 6

That laugh! Cole pivoted, nearly dropping his hot dog and cola as he stared at the woman across the street.

It was Debbie!

Pleasure surfaced at the unexpected sighting. He started to yell a hello when a man came out of the men’s clothing store behind her and gave her a kiss.

His hands knotted. Lunch was instantly forgotten and so was the fact that he was still holding it. His fingers squeezed into fists and into his meal. His wiener went one direction, his bun the other. He was left holding the chili…and the bag.

What in hell? He’d never seen that man before, and he’d have sworn that Debbie didn’t know anyone in Laguna Beach besides his family. If she did, she certainly hadn’t mentioned it.

He looked down at the mess in his hands and cursed softly.

“Here, buddy,” the vendor said, handing him a handful of napkins. “Looks like you might be needing these.”

Cole took them, nodded his thanks, and stared at the back end of that disappearing taxi.

“Want another?” the vendor asked, hoping to make another sale. Cole made a dash for his car. The vendor shrugged.

Cole spun out into traffic and began following the taxi’s retreat. Several minutes elapsed before the taxi finally came to another stop.

He frowned. A clothing store? Again? Surely Debbie hasn’t been suckered into buying clothes for some gigolo? He couldn’t imagine her being suckered into anything. But she was a stranger here, and in Cole’s line of work, odder things had happened.

They exited the cab. Cole watched the taxi drive away. Obviously they intended to spend some time inside. He frowned again and tightened his grip on the steering wheel as the broad-shouldered young man wrapped his arm solicitously around Debbie’s shoulder and escorted her inside.

He was nearly six feet tall and stocky. Cole took careful note of the fact that he couldn’t possibly be older than his early twenties. Dark brown hair. And no tan! He wasn’t local. That much was obvious. Someone with that many muscles would also have sported a tan. The two were synonymous in California, especially with body builders.

Cole thought about just getting out of his car, going across the street, and introducing himself. Then he thought again. How would he explain that he’d known where she was? He didn’t want to admit to her—or anyone else—that he’d been following her. It smacked of insecurity. I’m damn sure not insecure…I don’t think.

He frowned, settled himself into a more comfortable position, and fixed his sight on the front door. Sooner or later, they’d have to come out. When they did, he’d decide what to do next.

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