B. J. Daniels

by Secret Weapon Spouse

  His expression softened. “Sorry. I just feel like everyone is keeping things from me, you know?”

  She knew.

  He raked his hand through his hair, making him look all that much more vulnerable—and irresistible.

  The stab of desire took her by surprise. Her first in a long, long time. She smothered it the way she would have a flickering candle. But unlike a candle flame, this still burned, a slow smoldering burn inside her that never let her quite forget.

  “I have to admit, when she moved the wedding up three months, I did wonder,” he said and lowered himself onto the edge of the bed, then seemed to think better of it and shot back up. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  She glanced back at the champagne glasses and bottle. She would come back. It would be fairly easy given that there was no security system installed in the condo yet and she’d made a point of letting the security guard see her—not that she planned to get caught when she returned.

  Looking up, she felt a jolt as she saw that Alex Graham was watching her, frowning slightly—almost as if he could see beneath her oversize suits, the glasses, the dyed hair to the woman she tried so hard to hide.

  Chapter Four

  Alex seemed lost in thought as they left the condo—making her even more convinced he was on to her.

  As she slid behind the wheel of the pickup, he looked over at her, his eyes narrowing. His expression changed so quickly, he caught her off guard. “I’m starved. I know you haven’t had dinner because I’ve been dragging you all over Miami.” He smiled, bathing her in soft warmth.

  Food was the last thing she’d have expected he would want right now. She looked away for a moment, trying to come up with a good excuse and regain her balance.

  “I know this great little Mexican food place,” he was saying, his enthusiasm growing. “Lupita makes a chile verde that is to die for. Fresh homemade tortillas. And the best margaritas in Southern Florida. Tell me you like Mexican food,” he said starting the engine.

  She didn’t have the heart to tell him that she avoided spicy food. It didn’t go with her wedding planner persona. But his enthusiasm was contagious. “Who doesn’t like Mexican food?” she said, smiling as she turned back to him.

  He gave her one of his heart-stopping smiles. “You should do that more often,” he said, suddenly serious again.

  “What?” She hadn’t realized she’d done anything.

  “Smile. It looks good on you.”

  She ducked her head, embarrassed by the way she felt when Alex Graham looked at her like that. It was as if he could see behind the facade. That he could see her. The real her. And if that was true, then she was in big trouble.

  As he drove toward the café, she looked out her side window, trying to get her feet back under her. Alex Graham was like a whirlwind. He caught you up, taking you places you never expected to go, promising the wildest ride of your life. But she knew that eventually he’d let her down. Men always did. And the drop back to reality this time would be a killer.

  Something caught her eye in her side mirror. She’d seen that car earlier when they’d left Weddings Your Way. One of the headlights had a different bulb in it giving the car the appearance of winking.

  The car was staying back, changing lanes, even disappearing for short periods of time. Whoever was driving knew what he was doing.

  As Alex pulled into the dark parking lot next to the café, Samantha saw the nondescript tan car drive past. She only got a glimpse of the man behind the wheel, his face in shadow.

  “You all right?” Alex asked.

  “Sorry, just daydreaming,” she said with a shrug.

  He nodded, but she could tell that he’d seen her reaction when she’d realized they were being followed. He didn’t seem to miss much but he let it go as he insisted on opening her door as if they were on a date.

  The café was small and quiet no doubt because it was late and a weekday night. Samantha excused herself to freshen up. In the empty ladies’ room, she used her cell phone to call Rachel.

  In as few words as possible, Samantha filled her in.

  Rachel let out a low whistle when Samantha finished. “You’re sure Preston was the man who shared the champagne with Caroline in her condo?”

  “No. But I smelled his aftershave. He’d been in the condo recently. That doesn’t mean there isn’t another man.”

  “What’s bothering you?” Rachel asked. “I hear it in your voice.”

  Rachel knew her too well. Samantha glanced at her watch. She had to get back to Alex before he began to worry—and wonder. “The men’s clothing in the closet. It’s all wrong.” She explained that the shirts were an inferior brand, constructed of cheap fabric and worn at the cuffs. “They weren’t shirts a man like the one I met with Caroline would wear.”

  “So there could be another man,” Rachel said.

  A man at the opposite end of the financial spectrum. “There is the possibility that Preston Wellington III found out about the other man,” Samantha told her boss.

  “Which you think could mean Caroline’s hit-and run was no accident,” Rachel said.

  “It does make me wonder since Alex Graham and I seemed to have picked up a tail. I can’t help but wonder what someone is afraid we’re going to find out.”

  VICTOR CONSTANTINE was used to taking orders. He wasn’t even that particular who was doing the ordering but he had to admit, he didn’t like his latest job any more than he liked the arrogant voice on the other end of the line.

  He had two simple rules. He never knew who he was working for. He didn’t care. And his jobs came in by word of mouth, which meant he only did jobs for clients who’d been referred through other clients. The kind of people who had the kind of money required for his unique services.

  It made his life easier that way. He received a call, waited for the money to appear electronically in a numbered account and then he did the job.

  The more dangerous the job, the more money went into his account. Victor had an ironclad reputation for getting the job done, no matter how dirty. It had made him a rich man, a man on the verge of retiring at a very young age.

  That’s why he was having trouble taking orders from his latest “client.” The guy was an arrogant bastard, Victor thought as he dialed the number he’d been given.

  The man didn’t even say hello. “Where the hell are you? I told you to let me know what was going on.”

  Victor was hot, tired and hungry and he didn’t like being talked to like this. “Why do you think I’m calling?” he snapped, silently reminding himself how much he was getting paid. His fees tended to triple when he didn’t like the job—or the client.

  Victor glanced up the street. “After the hospital, he drove to Weddings Your Way, picked up a woman and drove to a seedy part of town.” He gave the client the address and heard the man let out an oath under his breath.

  “The woman is still with him?”

  Victor described her. “They’re in some dive of a Mexican café across the street eating dinner.”

  “He took her out to eat?”

  Yeah, exactly what Victor should have been doing right now instead of sitting down the street in the dark. “Apparently so. I’d like to have some dinner myself.”

  “I don’t pay you to eat.”

  “You don’t pay me enough to miss meals, either.”

  Silence. “I’m sorry you missed your supper. But with what I pay you, I’m sure you can order in later.”

  Victor smiled to himself. The man had no idea.

  “Call me when they leave the restaurant and stay with them. Don’t let them out of your sight.” The line went dead.

  Victor stared down at the phone for a moment, then thought, what the hell. He called information, got the number of the Mexican café and ordered himself the nightly special: a plate of seafood enchiladas, beans and rice.

  “Do you want that delivered?” the female voice on the other end of the line inquired.

  Victor
smiled. “As a matter of fact I’m parked just down the street. There is a big tip in it if you get it out to me in a hurry.”

  AS SAMANTHA returned to the café, she glanced at the other tables. A few people had come in. But none were singles. None, she surmised, was the person who’d been following them.

  Alex looked up as if sensing her return, never taking his eyes off her from the time she started toward the table until she sat down.

  It didn’t just surprise her that he could unnerve her the way he did. It scared her. The wall she’d thrown up and her cool reserve, coupled with the way she dressed and acted, kept most men at a distance. But then Alex Graham wasn’t most men. That point was starting to hit home.

  “Thank you,” he said when she was seated again. “You’ve been great tonight. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you going with me to the condo. I really don’t think I could have done that alone. You’ve been amazing.”

  She felt embarrassed by the compliment. “I’m just glad I could help.” Help, indeed, she thought with a stab of guilt at just the thought of returning to the condo for the champagne bottle and glasses. Who was helping whom?

  “So tell me. How did you become a wedding planner?”

  She picked up a corn chip and gave him her standard reply. “You wouldn’t believe it if I told you.”

  “Try me.”

  She looked at him and saw that he seemed to genuinely be interested. Maybe too interested? Talking about that part of her job seemed safe enough. As if being here in this dark intimate café with Alex was safe.

  “Well, there’s not much to tell,” she said, going with the abbreviated version. “I met Rachel and she offered me the job. I had no experience but I guess she saw what a detail person I am….”

  “You had no experience as a wedding planner? You don’t strike me as one of those women who always dreamed of her own wedding day,” he said.

  She’d been playing with the chip but now set it down on her napkin. She could feel the heat of his gaze and felt her throat go dry. “No. I always thought I’d elope.” Her smile felt like plastic left out too long in the sun. “But I can understand why some couples want a large wedding. For most people it’s the biggest event they will ever…” He’d made her remember how she’d once pictured her own wedding.

  “Endure?” he suggested when she didn’t go on.

  She could only nod.

  “Frankly? It sounds awful,” he said as if he’d seen her discomfort. “Months of planning and hassle for a few minutes before a preacher. Months and months of planning.”

  She took a drink of the beer the waiter put in front of her, thankful to him for saving her from a strained silence. “It does take a lot of planning because basically you’re putting on a theatrical production not that much different from a Broadway play.”

  “Interesting perspective and appropriate since a wedding has so little to do with a marriage, don’t you think?”

  She smiled. “The wedding is fantasy, that’s for sure. Some more than others. Look at some of the popular wedding themes. Antony and Cleopatra, Romeo and Juliet, Lancelot and Guinevere and then there are Royalty and Fairyland weddings, weddings In the Clouds, On the Rooftop, By the Sea…”

  He laughed. “I had no idea.” He shook his head, seeming to be enjoying himself. “No wonder I’ve never gotten married.” He turned serious. “I don’t mean to make light of what you do, but it really is a lot of smoke and mirrors, isn’t it.”

  If he only knew. Both of her jobs were a lot of both. She began to relax. “We joke that we’re in show business. But if you put on a great show everyone is happy and that’s what it’s all about.”

  They snacked on the chips and salsa for a few moments, a comfortable silence falling between them.

  “Three months isn’t enough for the type of show my father wants, is it,” he said after a while.

  “Not really,” she admitted. “I’m going to have to pull a few rabbits out of my hat but don’t worry, I won’t let your sister down.”

  He smiled almost ruefully. “I’m sure you won’t but it might not be a problem. There might not be a wedding because there might not be a groom.” He held up his hands as if in surrender. “I know. You’re convinced this fiancé of hers is in love with her and wouldn’t desert her—especially pregnant. I hope you’re right.”

  So did she, but it was getting tougher to keep making excuses for Preston Wellington III.

  ALEX COULDN’T REMEMBER a meal he’d enjoyed more. While Caroline was never far from his thoughts, he stopped obsessing over her missing fiancé. He liked the idea of being an uncle. It wasn’t like Caroline would be alone or penniless. He would see to that.

  Even though he wasn’t sure he should, he liked Samantha Peters. She’d drawn him out, asking about his job as a fireman. She’d seemed genuinely interested and had laughed at his stories from the firehouse. He’d steered clear of the anguish that often came with his job.

  As they finished their meal, he asked, “The woman who was abducted. Have they found her?”

  Samantha shook her head. “There’s been no word.”

  He was shocked to hear it and even more shocked to realize he hadn’t given the other woman a thought. He’d been too involved with his sister’s hit-and-run.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “You think she was kidnapped?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “But no ransom demand has been made yet?” he asked, still convinced that there had to be a connection between his sister and the driver of that car.

  “Not that I’ve heard.”

  “Thank you again,” he said. Just looking at her made him feel better.

  “It’s been my pleasure—” She broke off, seemingly a little flustered. It wasn’t like her and he found himself smiling at her again. “I enjoyed dinner,” she amended.

  “Me, too.” His gaze locked with hers, her brown eyes seeming to shimmer. He wanted to reach across the table and remove her glasses, brush her hair back from her face and—

  Her cell phone rang. He watched her glance at the caller ID and saw her expression change.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I need to take this.”

  He nodded, the moment lost as she got up and stepped away from the table. He didn’t know if he should feel disappointment. Or relief. He had been about to make a fool of himself.

  “PETERS,” SAMANTHA SAID into the phone, hoping this was going to be good news.

  “Samantha, it’s Rachel. I just wanted to let you know that you were right about the black limo. Looks like it was stolen off a car lot in Fort Lauderdale. Matches the description.”

  “Has the car been found?” Samantha asked, glad she had gotten something right since there was a good chance that she’d been wrong about Caroline’s fiancé.

  “Not yet,” Rachel said. “How are things at your end?”

  Interesting. “Fine,” she said glancing back toward the table and Alex. “I’m still going by the hospital tonight. I thought I’d drop in on Craig Johnson. I know it’s late, but maybe he’s remembered something. I’ll visit Caroline tomorrow, instead.”

  “Good idea.”

  She rang off and walked back to the table.

  Alex was just putting his cell phone away. He’d paid their dinner bill and looked anxious.

  “I should get to the hospital. Would you mind if we stopped on the way back?” he asked, rising.

  She’d hoped to go to the hospital alone but maybe she could make this work and save herself a trip since she would have to go back to the condo as it was. “Of course not. Is everything all right?”

  He nodded, his expression grim. “No change.”

  Samantha felt the weight of his disappointment and her own. She’d been on such a roller coaster of emotions. Now, she felt too warm from the spicy food and the entertaining company. Mostly, she’d felt too content just before the phone call from Rachel.

  And that was dangerous. She needed to get back to work behind the scenes, b
ack to what made her feel safe and that was far away from Alex Graham.

  At the hospital, they rode together up the elevator to Caroline’s floor. “I’ll wait here for you,” she said as he started down the hall. She noticed that a guard had been posted outside Caroline’s door. “Is that your doing?” she asked, surprised.

  “I hired guards 24-7 to keep an eye on her. I’m still not convinced the hit-and-run was an accident. And until I am…”

  “Can’t hurt having the guard here, especially if it makes you feel better.”

  “You make me feel better,” he said touching her hand and seeming not to notice when she flinched at his surprise touch. “I won’t be long.”

  “Take your time. Really.”

  She headed down the hall toward the nurses’ station, slowing as Alex nodded to the private guard and entered his sister’s room. Before the door closed, Samantha caught a glimpse of Caroline lying in the bed surrounded by equipment. It was so sad to see this beautiful, young woman bandaged and broken, let alone to think about the baby she was carrying.

  In her line of work, Samantha dealt with bad guys all the time—just not up close and personal. For the first time, she was on the front lines and she’d never wanted to see justice done more than she did right now. She would do anything to find the person behind Sonya Botero’s abduction, behind Caroline Graham’s hit-and-run—even if it turned out that she’d been wrong about Preston Wellington III and he was involved.

  She walked down to the nurses’ station on the pretense of inquiring about Caroline Graham’s condition. As she spoke with the nurse, Samantha noted Craig Johnson’s room number. It was just up the hall from Caroline’s room.

  Alex was still in with his sister as Samantha passed the guard. She waited until he was busy reading a magazine in his chair outside Caroline’s door before Samantha headed for the chauffeur-bodyguard’s room.

  She recalled what she’d witnessed earlier from the front window of Weddings Your Way. The driver of the car carrying the men who’d abducted Sonya Botero had appeared to purposely try to run down Johnson before striking Caroline Graham. Had there been more than one target?