Hidden Judgment Read online

  Ellie considered his response as she took in the landscape of rolling hills and farmland as they drove from the airport. She was a little surprised at Sam’s vehicle choice. The Land Cruiser had to be at least twenty years old and appeared well cared for. If she’d given it any thought, she’d have pegged him as driving a cool Audi or BMW.

  A semi ahead of them forced them to slow. She watched Sam step on the clutch and shift the manual transmission into a lower gear. She’d always wanted to learn how to drive a stick. Linc had promised to teach her, but after one lesson he’d banned her from ever touching his Jeep again, claiming she’d likely stripped the gears in his transmission.

  She couldn’t really blame him after the horrible grinding sound it’d made. She eyed Sam. Maybe he’d teach her. Not that he was exactly approachable, but maybe he’d be friendlier once they were more comfortable with each other.

  Ellie had been on plenty of witness protection assignments that sometimes had involved working closely with interesting men. While the number of female marshals was larger than it’d ever been, the Marshals Service was still dominated by men who tended to be take-charge, I’m-the-coolest, alpha-male kind of guys. But she’d never had trouble separating personal feelings from her job.

  She was starting to wonder if that would become a problem with Sam. Maybe she should have shared their previous connection with Seth. But she already knew how that conversation would’ve gone. He and Linc would’ve turned all protective big brother and pummeled Sam to a pulp, which wouldn’t bode well for their careers.

  She’d had a hookup with Sam, and in college that had been normal for so many young women, though not normal for her. She’d never engaged in casual sex before or after that event. But then, at the time, she hadn’t thought what had happened with Sam had been casual. She’d thought he’d shared that instant connection.

  She’d given him her phone number but hadn’t gotten his, and when he’d failed to contact her, she’d been hurt. It had taken a stern talk from a girlfriend to discourage her from going to Sam’s house and asking him what was up.

  After their one-night stand, she’d avoided the campus coffee shop. In the end, she’d had to chalk it up to a lesson learned. Being with him now, she couldn’t help thinking about it. But that was her problem. She was ninety-nine percent certain that if she asked him why he’d never called her, he’d have no recollection of that evening, which had been so significant to her.

  Chapter Three

  Ellie tried to appreciate the scenery, but the reality of living with Sam was drawing ever closer. She needed to put a lid on her emotions before they got her in trouble.

  How exactly she and Sam would figure out their living arrangements had yet to be determined. As much as she could, she’d rely on the normal procedures for witness protection. Out in public they had be a couple, but in his home she was a marshal protecting a judge. She’d be friendly but professional, remain clear-headed and logical, and she’d get through this assignment. Pulls of attraction would have to be ignored.

  They crossed a bridge, and the river below swirled with deep currents.

  “That’s the Umatilla River.”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “You ever kayaked?”

  “Sure, down in Baja and in the Sierras. I kayaked in Morro Bay once.”

  “I’ve got a couple of kayaks. We could take them out.” She caught his speculative look and her heart gave a heavy thud. “All in the interest of doing couples activities, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  Being engaged to Sam was going to be tougher than she’d anticipated.

  He slowed the Cruiser as he drove through an old, established neighborhood with houses on large lots separated by wooded areas. He turned into a driveway that ran along one edge of a sloping lawn bordered on the far side by groupings of tall pines before circling to the back of the house.

  The house was a surprisingly appealing two-story colonial with clapboard siding painted a weathered gray with white trim. A wide porch framed a door painted deep red that matched the shutters on the dormer windows on the upper story. Sam clicked a device on his visor and the door on the detached garage rolled up.

  Two kayaks hung suspended from overhead beams and he parked beneath them. Along one wall was a rack doubling as a stand for skis as well as fishing poles. He appeared to enjoy his outdoor activities.

  Ellie stepped out of the garage and did a slow survey of the property, stuffing her hands deep in her coat pockets against the cool temperature. An area around the back door of the house was enclosed with a wire fence, but the rest of the property was open. While the garage matched the house, it appeared to be a more recent construction.

  Behind it the land sloped up a hillside dotted with shrubs, rounded granite boulders, and clumps of tall trees. A short border wall of moss-covered rocks delineated the property and the weathered look of it made her think it had been around for most of the past century. She loved the rustic atmosphere that gave the property a homey appeal.

  Nice as it was, she wasn’t moving into Sam Creed’s home for the environment. Rock walls, trees, boulders—all were nice for a person living a comfortable life without enemies. But that wasn’t the case here, and the yard offered too much cover for someone interested in hanging out with a rifle and scope and taking shots at Judge Creed.

  She tipped back her head to take in the gorgeous early-November leaves of red, yellow, and orange on a huge tree that spread wide branches over the lawn near the enclosed pen.

  “This is the most beautiful tree I’ve ever seen. What is it?” The not-so-keep-it-professional words were out of her mouth before she could think to hold them back.

  Sam stood at the back of the SUV. She glanced over when she felt him staring at her and caught an expression that made her think she’d surprised him. Then he was opening the rear door and pulling out her luggage. “Oregon white oak. Pretty common around here.”

  Right. Pull it in, Ellie. Most Southern California trees never wore fall colors like Sam’s Oregon white oak. She didn’t need to make a fool of herself about it. Good thing she hadn’t gushed about the rock wall or he’d think she was really a nut. She fully intended to get a closer look at that wall, but later without Sam’s unsettling presence.

  Sam took the larger of her two suitcases, and Ellie didn’t bother objecting. It was exactly what her brothers would do regardless that she was perfectly capable of managing her own luggage. She grabbed the remaining suitcase and they went through the gate to the fenced area. Wild barking echoed from inside.

  “What kind of security do you have for your house?” She eyed the eaves and spied cameras and security lights at both rear corners.

  He pulled a ring of keys from his pocket. “Besides the dogs, I had an alarm system installed when I moved in.” He pointed. “The security lights are motion-activated.”

  “Are there cameras throughout the property or only around the house?”

  “Around the house.”

  “Who does the system alert when there’s been a breach?”

  “There’s no alert for the outside cameras—they only record. With the alarm system, I get a text if there’s a breach, and the local police are notified. We good to go in or do you want to search the house first?”

  “Doing my job, Creed. We’ll want to put cameras up that slope.” She indicated the hill at the back of the house.

  He didn’t say anything, and carried her suitcase as he climbed the steps and pushed open the door. Ellie followed him into a mudroom lined with hooks holding hats, jackets, and dog leashes, and a bench with shoe bins beneath it. There was a scrambling clatter of nails on the wood floor followed by a firm command to “sit.” A matching pair of tri-colored beagles quivered with their butts planted on a mat that ran the length of the mudroom’s hardwood floor. Sam deactivated the house alarm.

  “Oh, you have beagles.” Ellie’s heart melted.

  As far as she was concerned, beagles were the most ador
able of all dogs, and she’d promised herself she’d adopt one once her job wasn’t constantly taking her away from home.

  Setting her suitcase onto the bench, she went down to her knees and offered a hand for the dogs to sniff. “Hey, guys. Aren’t you gorgeous?” She turned her face up to Sam. “What are their names?”

  “Tony and Cleo.”

  Tony and Cleo took hearing their names as a sign they were free to move. They rushed her with wagging tails, sniffing noisily at her feet as she stroked sleek coats.

  “Let me guess, Marc Antony and Cleopatra. Am I right?”

  “You win the cookie.” Sam indicated hooks. “You can hang your coat here. I’ll show you the house, then we’ll take your suitcases up.”

  “Okay.”

  After coaxing the dogs outside, Sam took her from room to room, his tone not unwelcoming, but not exactly hospitable. He was doing his duty as her host, all without revealing much of what he was thinking.

  She didn’t want to be curious about Sam Creed, but being in his house only made her wonder about him more.

  If she’d had to guess the type of home he’d live in, she’d have thought a low-maintenance town house with a minimum of fuss and clutter. But as with his vehicle, the opposite of that guess couldn’t have been more extreme.

  His home was richly decorated with solid furniture, and colors and textures that combined to make it inviting. The house’s décor made up for his lack of welcome.

  The history nerd in her loved the antique pieces, especially because they weren’t confined to a specific period. The desk in his office looked like it dated from the antebellum era, while the drop leaf table in the living room with its gorgeous slag glass lamp looked late Victorian. The mix gave the home a comfortable, settled feel, one she could see herself happily living in.

  Making mental notes of points of entry, as well as views from various windows, helped her to store the insights Sam’s home gave into his personality. But the fat gray and white cat who lay curled at one end of a couch and the finely crocheted doilies under some of the knickknacks seemed so incongruous they made her frown.

  Sam did not look like a fat cat or doily kind of guy. She reached out to stroke the cat, which stretched under her hand, extending needle-like claws.

  “Her name is Gumbie.”

  Ellie couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Someone’s read their T. S. Eliot.” She straightened and caught the considering look. “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  She gave Gumbie a final rub. “How long have you lived here?”

  “Year and a half.”

  “What did you do, buy out an antiques store to furnish it?”

  “I inherited the house fully furnished from my aunt, and it came with the dogs and cat. She was a middle school English teacher, hence the animals’ literary names. I haven’t changed much of anything.” He turned to the stairs. “I’ll show you your room.”

  She wondered if he hadn’t changed anything out of sentimentality or lack of interest. If she had to guess, the latter seemed more likely.

  The upstairs landing led to a long hallway with doors on either side. He pointed to a door directly across the landing. “That opens to the back stairway that goes to the kitchen.” At the end of the hall, he indicated a room on the left that faced the front of the house. “That’s my room.”

  The open door revealed a room with a sloped ceiling and west-facing dormer windows that showed the sun setting through the trees and cast the room in a half-light. A wide bed with four posters of what looked like polished mahogany was covered with a gorgeous quilt in a traditional wedding ring pattern. The colors of deep burgundy and cream were a beautiful contrast to the golden wood floor and the painted white walls.

  “Oh wow, I love your bed.” She felt him check his movement, and her gaze flew to his. His expression remained unchanged, except for the minute lift of the corner of his mouth. “Don’t get any ideas, Creed. I appreciate antiques, and you’ve got some beautiful pieces.”

  “Then you’ll like your room.” He motioned across the hall.

  Ellie stepped through the door and all thoughts of focusing simply on her job fled. “Oh my god. Is that a pewter bed frame?” She brushed past him to run her fingers over the burnished metal. The head- and footboards had a classic curved design and she guessed it had to be over a hundred years old. “And look at the quilt. Oh, I love the colors. This is a broken star pattern. Did your aunt make the quilts?”

  She looked up. His expression had lost that distant look and her heart gave an uncomfortable thud in her chest. “You keep looking at me like I’m a weirdo.”

  Sam shook his head. “Not a weirdo, and yes, my aunt made the quilts. I’ll bring up your suitcases.”

  He moved down the hall and she let out a careful breath, trying to find her mental balance. The man stirred her up, and she had no idea how he felt about her. Not that it mattered. She was here to protect him and that was it. No way was she opening herself to hurt like she’d experienced from his disinterest when she was young and foolish. She was neither now, and she reminded herself that she avoided the love ’em and leave ’em types like snakes in the grass.

  Sam brought in her suitcase and smaller tote and deposited them at the foot of the bed. “We’ll have to share the bathroom next door, unless you’d rather use the three-quarter bath downstairs. Put what you want in whichever you choose. I’ll leave you to settle in.” He pulled her bedroom door closed behind him.

  Ellie sat on the edge of the bed, fingering the classically patterned quilt. She needed to build up her defenses because whatever had drawn her to a much younger Sam Creed was still there, waiting for those moments when all she could think about was that he was the most intriguing man she’d ever known.

  He wasn’t the most handsome, and he certainly wasn’t the most charming, but he was hands-down the most compelling.

  Maybe she should try viewing him as she did her brothers. They were both great guys, and women certainly found them attractive, but to her they were simply her brothers, sometimes dorks, sometimes annoying, but always decent humans.

  The temperature in the house was on the cool side so she changed into leggings and a warm sweater that fell below her hips, and dug out the fleece-lined boots she was glad she’d ordered online when their assignment had sent the team away from sunny Southern California. She paused at the top of the stairs when her phone chimed with an incoming text.

  Bella: How’s it going with Judge Hottie?

  Ellie rolled her eyes and texted back: Really?

  Bella sent a meme that had Ellie choking back a laugh. It showed Sam in black judge’s robes with a sexy scowl. The caption read “Spank me, please.”

  Bella: Definitely. So?

  Ellie: Fine, so far. We’re figuring it out. He’s working under the assumption that I’m a little deranged. I like his house. He has BEAGLES!

  Bella knew Ellie was obsessed with beagles, and had even taken her to a beagle rescue farm on her last birthday. Ellie had been able to play with beagle puppies to her heart’s delight.

  Bella: Don’t let them sleep in your bed. It’s a bad precedent.

  Ellie: I don’t think their daddy would allow that, it seems a bit warm and cuddly for him. I get frostbite if I get within five feet of him.

  Bella: Harsh. We’ll be at Judge Hottie’s house as soon as your brother gets over himself and lets me navigate.

  Ellie didn’t have to ask which brother Bella was referring to. If Sam gave Ellie frostbite, Seth and Bella shared a deep freeze as frigid as a Siberian winter.

  Ellie texted a thumbs up.

  Tucking her phone under the waistband of her leggings and telling herself she was a coward for being nervous, she made her way downstairs.

  She passed through the living room where a gas fire burned in the fireplace. The room felt so cozy she could easily spend the evening curled on the couch with a good book. Sam must’ve started the fire. Maybe she’d been too quick to judge the judge when she’
d been texting Bella.

  Framed photos on a shelf caught her attention. One showed a young Sam standing with an older woman with a self-conscious smile who had her hand on his shoulder. The image appeared to have been taken in front of this house. His aunt?

  Ellie made her way to the kitchen to find Sam standing at the sink peeling sweet potatoes. He too had changed and wore a dark gray Henley with the sleeves pushed to his elbows and loose-fitting athletic pants. The hair that had earlier been combed back now fell over his forehead, softening his appearance. Damn. He was way too appealing.

  “Bella texted. The team’s on their way here. We weren’t that far ahead of them, but I’m glad they’re arriving under cover of night. We can’t be seen with them. We’re not supposed to know them.”

  He nodded. “Agreed.” He set the potatoes on a cutting board. “They probably hit rush hour traffic. Lots of people who work in Portland live in the country.” He toweled off his hands. “Tell Bella I’ll feed you all. You a picky eater?”

  “No. Especially if I don’t have to cook what I’m eating.”

  She texted Bella about dinner.

  “You don’t cook?”

  “I cook, but I don’t particularly enjoy figuring out meals.”

  “How are you with prep work?”

  “Excellent. What can I help with?” They were having a normal conversation. Normal was good. Normal would keep the one-sided erotic thoughts at bay.

  Chapter Four

  Sam pulled a knife from a drawer and set it next to the sweet potatoes. “Cut these in one-inch chunks.”

  She did as directed, chopping the sweet potatoes, then the onions he handed her, and finally brussels sprouts, all while listening to the local NPR station playing through a Bluetooth speaker.

  Every moment they worked quietly together she was uncomfortably aware of him. How he looked, how he moved, and when he reached in front of her for the pepper grinder, how he smelled of what made her think of the outdoors on a crisp fall day.