Julie Garwood - The Ideal Man

Ellie gave Ben’s wife suggestions to help with the indigestion and ended the message by telling Addison she could text her with other questions when she needed to.

“Thanks,” Ben said when she had finished. “She worries.”

Ellie gave him her cell phone number. “If you have concerns, you can text me, too.”

When Ellie returned with the Cokes, she handed one to Ben and took her seat next to Max.

“Will Sean get into trouble because he didn’t wear his vest?”

Max answered. “He did get into trouble. He got shot, remember?”

That wasn’t what she meant, but she didn’t pursue the matter.

Max turned the recorder back on. “Ben, do you have any other questions you want to ask Ellie?”

“No, I think we’re done for now,” he replied. “You’re going to be around, though, aren’t you? You aren’t taking off for Europe?”

“Did you forget the ‘I’m poor’ part of the interview?” she asked.

He laughed. “Right. So no Europe.”

“I will be going to Winston Falls for a wedding next week, but until then I’ll be here, and you can always get me on my cell phone.”

Once again, Max hit the button to turn the recorder off just as Ben asked, “Where is Winston Falls?’

“South Carolina.”

“Ellie’s family lives there. It’s her hometown,” Max volunteered.

“How often do you get back home?”

“Not often.”

“Are you going anywhere after the wedding?”

“No, I’ll come back here… for a while.”

“I guess we’re finished,” Max announced and started to stand. Ellie put her hand on his knee to stop him.

“Now it’s my turn to ask questions,” she told him.

“That’s not how it works,” he replied.

She ignored his comment. “Why were they in the park?”

Ben answered her. “The FBI has been following them since the last case didn’t make it to court, and when we heard about the buy, we set a trap. Max and I wanted in on it.”

“What was the buy? Drugs?”

“Weapons,” he said. “Very sophisticated weapons.”

Before she could ask him another question, his cell phone rang. He saw who was calling and said, “I’ve got to take this.”

He disappeared into her kitchen for some privacy before he answered his phone. Ellie turned to Max, realized then that her hand was still resting on his leg, and pulled back. “What did he mean, the last case didn’t make it to court?”

“Witnesses couldn’t testify.”

“Couldn’t or wouldn’t.”

“Couldn’t.”

She didn’t push him to explain, but said, “What went wrong in the park?”

“A lot of things.”

It was as much as he was going to tell her, she realized after waiting several seconds. She tried another question. “Ben said the FBI has been following them, so you know who they are?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

When he didn’t immediately answer, she gave him a good nudge with her foot. He was so surprised, he smiled. “Did you just kick a federal agent?”

“No, I nudged a federal agent. I’m getting ready to kick.”

“Calvin and Erika Landry.”

“Now, was that so hard?”

He laughed and she was happy to see the tension ease from his face for a second.

“I’ve never heard of them,” she said.

“I didn’t think you had. They don’t usually do business here. We’ve had other dealings with them. Fact is, we’ve been chasing them for some time. We knew about the deal that was going down at the park, and we were hoping we could catch them in the act. Unfortunately, they got away before anyone could identify them. That’s why eyewitnesses to the shooting are so important. Too many agents have been working on this for too long.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Do you live in St. Louis? I’m just curious about who’s involved in this case,” she hastened to add so he wouldn’t think she was being too personal.

Max stood, slipped the recorder into his pocket, and said, “For the past six years I’ve lived in Honolulu.”

She didn’t know why she was so bummed out by the news, but she was. She hardly knew the man, and he definitely was all wrong for her. Yet there was just something about him… The truth was, she had never had such an immediate attraction to any other man before, not even her ex-fiancé, though she’d be loath to admit it.

It was all so confusing. She didn’t want a relationship with Max, but she wanted the possibility of one? She wasn’t making any sense.

Her brain chemistry was all messed up, she decided, and that was why her physical reaction to him was so intense. That was it exactly. Her endorphins were going haywire. Sleep deprivation was probably one reason for the imbalance, and being a workaholic with no social outlets was probably another.

There was one other theory: She was crazy, just plain crazy.

Ben finished his call and was leaning against the door frame, drinking his Diet Coke. He pulled away when Max said, “Let’s go.”

“Is Ellie going on the witness list?” he asked.

Max shook his head. “Agent Hughes is running this, remember? If Ellie’s name goes on that list, you know what will happen.”

“Yeah, but you and I could stop it.”

“From Honolulu? Not possible.”

Stop what, Ellie wondered. She waited for Max or Ben to explain, but neither did.

“I’m telling you Hughes will want-”

Max cut him off. “I said no.” He walked to the door and unbolted the locks.

Ben turned to put his drink on the kitchen counter and headed to the door that Max was holding open.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be more helpful,” Ellie said, a bit puzzled by their brusque departure.

“It’s okay.” Max started to pull the door closed but stopped abruptly. He stood for a second as though weighing his thoughts before saying, “Are there any good restaurants around here?”

“If you like Italian, you should go to the Hill. There’s a great restaurant called the Trellis. You’ll love it. It’s casual dress. You’ll see everything from suits to shorts.”

“Okay. I’ll pick you up at seven tomorrow night.”

He shut the door before she had time to react.

“Wait… what?”

Finding out who the blond runner was on the track turned out to be surprisingly easy.

A shoot-out on hospital grounds with FBI agents swarming all over the park was big news. Every local station led the evening broadcast with a report about the downed agent and the hunt for the perpetrators. The hospital was still buzzing about the incident. The staff, the volunteers, even the patients wanted to rehash the event. Some even did a bit of embellishing.

Willis Cogburn knew how the gossip grapevine worked and used it to his advantage. Dressed as a deliveryman for a local florist, he carried a potted plant with Agent Sean Goodman’s name on it into the hospital. It was late afternoon when he made the delivery, and the lobby was empty except for a few volunteers milling around behind the reception desk waiting to help anyone who wanted assistance.

An older, white-haired gentleman, wearing the name tag “Roland,” looked up the number of the patient’s room, marked it on a Post-It, and stuck it to the bright red bow attached to the plant before setting it on a cart with other floral arrangements ready for delivery.

Willis didn’t have to ask where Sean Goodman was. All he had to do was engage the volunteer in conversation while he leaned over the counter and read the room number.

“How’s that FBI agent doing? I sure hope he’s going to make it,” Willis asked sympathetically.

“He’s almost as good as new,” Roland said. “One of the aides told me they already moved him out of ICU into a private room. He might even get to go home as early as the day after tomorrow.”