Destiny Bay Boxed Set Vol. 1 (Books 1 - 3)

by Helen Conrad

  After one quick look, she closed her eyes very tightly.

  “Put something on,” she ordered hoarsely, showing far more bravado than she felt.

  “You’ve got some nerve,” he retorted. “You break into my room and immediately start managing my wardrobe.” His hand took possession of her chin, forcing her face up, even though she stubbornly refused to open her eyes.

  “I’ve got a better idea.” His low voice crackled with tension. “You take something off.”

  This was not going well. But then, how could it? It was a bad situation all the way around, and all she could do was make the best of it. She squeezed her eyes tighter.

  “I refuse to talk to you until you put something on,” she insisted stoutly, ready to flinch at any moment.

  His voice was full of exasperation now. “Look. You’re the burglar here. I’m the ‘burgled-upon.’ And you’ve just been caught, lady. I’m the one who’s giving the orders, not you.”

  She didn’t say a word, but pressed her lips together in answer.

  His hand left her chin and his sigh sounded annoyed, but something in it communicated just a hint of respect for her spunk.

  “Okay, okay,” he said, and she could hear him stepping away. “I’ve got a towel on. Will that do?”

  She opened one eye just enough to see if he was lying, and then opened both when she found he actually had tied a large, fluffy towel around his waist.

  “Thank you,” she said primly, wondering if he could see how she was trembling.

  “You’re welcome.” He made a show of bowing politely, but the mockery in his eyes was anything but friendly, “I’m glad you approve.”

  At least he wasn’t getting violent. She looked about nervously, wondering if she should apologize for being in his home or make a break for it.

  “This is a very nice house.” Somehow the words just slipped out. She knew they sounded inane.

  “It’s not my house,” he said slowly, watching her all the time with his dark, penetrating gaze. “But Mavis Jessup Cadbury would thank you if she were here.” The eyes seemed to see right through her and she shuddered, biting her lip to keep her teeth from chattering. “Do you know her by any chance?”

  “No.” She shook her head, then realized perhaps she should have claimed to know her. But that wouldn’t have done much good. How many people came visiting at midnight, and entered by way of an upstairs balcony? Not many intent on doing anything harmless. But it did give her another thought.

  He had no idea why she was here at this point. It would be best to let things stay that way. After all, now that he’d foiled her effort to get Alexander back, she would have to try again and she might as well make some attempt at keeping his guard down.

  “Mavis Jessup Cadbury, did you say?” She tried to smile and found it hard going in the face of his knowing eyes. “Gosh, I guess I’ve got the wrong house. Silly me.” She started to back away toward the balcony. “I guess I’d better be going.”

  He moved toward her, stopping her in her tracks. She watched him, wide-eyed, and his gaze hardened as he searched her face, pale and blue-shadowed in the moonlight.

  Suddenly he reached out and nipped a switch and the room was flooded with light. She blinked into it, feeling like a victim of an old-time third-degree grill.

  “Okay, enough fun and games,” he told her. “What the hell are you doing in my room?”

  Despite all she’d seen, she was unprepared for the streak of cold steel she could now see in his eyes. He could be dangerous, and she was in a very vulnerable position.

  “Nothing, actually,” she said quickly. “It’s all a mistake. I . . . I’ll just go now, if you . . .”

  She started to turn toward the sliding glass door, vaguely hoping to leave the way she’d come, but before she could take even one step, his large hands had grabbed both her shoulders and he held her firmly.

  She realized how strong he was, how little chance there was that she could fight him off if he decided to get rough. But more than physical strength, she saw the strength of will that glittered in his expression.

  Confused, she dropped her eyes, only to find herself confronted by the creamy golden texture of his chest. She’d never come in contact with anything like it before and she almost gasped aloud. In spite of everything, she had to admit the man had one of the all-time greatest bodies she’d ever seen, even in pictures. She quickly looked back up again, more ready to brave his fierce expression than to let herself begin to explore his sensuality. Eyes wide, she clung to his gaze.

  “A mistake?” he repeated mockingly. “What? A wrong turn on the freeway landed you in my room? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”

  He was large and he was muscular and she wasn’t used to this sort of man. She’d grown up around men —her father and now her partners, Baxter and Howie, who worked with her every day. But they were all slight, cerebral men, not given to acts of physical force or intimidation. This man was altogether different. Just the pressure of his hands on her shoulders sent a wave of electric awareness through her. She’d never felt anything like it before. That, more than anything else, confused the heck out of her.

  “No,” she stammered, reddening. “I . . . I . . .”

  His dark eyes glowed. “Or is this really the wrong house? Did you mean to burglarize the neighbors?”

  She shook her head helplessly. “No, you don’t understand. I . . . I’ve never done anything like this before ...”

  His head went back and he glared at her through narrowed eyes, his thick lashes fringing the fire within. “Ah, so that’s it. This was just a practice run. You’re just a baby burglar.”

  He scared her. “Could I go now?” she asked wistfully.

  Mockery glowed in his dark eyes. “And promise never to do this again?”

  No. That she couldn’t promise. She would have to try again. Alexander was still being held prisoner in this house, and as long as that was the case, she couldn’t give up.

  “Just let me go,” she asked breathlessly. “I haven’t taken anything. I haven’t hurt anyone.”

  For just a moment, she thought she could see indecision flash across his gaze and hope flared in her heart. But then he glanced back at where she’d been standing behind the drapes and suddenly his expression sharpened.

  “What’s this?” he said softly, releasing her and walking over to pull away the cloth. He took up the box she’d brought with her and stared at it.

  Her heart sank. Would he put two and two together and come up with the answer she didn’t want him to know? If he was very perceptive, he just might . . .

  “Airholes,” he said musingly. “I suppose this is yours, isn’t it?” His look was penetrating. “Airholes,” he repeated slowly, staring at her. “The cat.”

  All the tension rushed out of her like the air out of a spent balloon. Damn! The jig was definitely up. It would have been nice if she could have kept the truth from him. Now that he realized why she’d come, this thing would be that much harder. Maybe impossible.

  No. Not impossible. She squared her shoulders and forced herself to face him. His expression was alight with triumph. He knew he had her.

  “You must be that woman who wanted her cat back. Aren’t you?”

  She raised her chin and met his gaze. There was no point trying to lie her way out of this any longer.

  “Yes,” she admitted, eyes clear and challenging.

  His eyes were sparkling with interest now. “What’s your name again?”

  “Janet Cardona.”

  “Janet Cardona.” His mouth twisted in something resembling a grin. “You really do want that cat, don’t you?”

  “Of course I want him,” she answered hotly. Now that everything was out in the open, she was ready to fight for what was hers. Her hands balled into fists at her sides as she faced him.

  “He’s mine. You have no right to him at all.”

  “I have every right,” he said calmly, her makeshift cat carrier dangling f
rom his hand. “I found him at the animal shelter. I paid the required fee. He’s mine.”

  “But he wasn’t supposed to be at the animal shelter. Don’t you understand? That was what I tried to tell you when I phoned yesterday, and you wouldn’t even take my call. It was all a mistake.”

  A mistake, and a nightmare. Alexander was her darling, a huge Siamese whose fur was so dark, he almost looked like a Burmese. Her father had given Alexander to her almost ten years ago, on her sixteenth birthday and the cat had been with her through the dark days, during her father’s stroke, his partial recovery, and finally, his death.

  Baxter and Howie had been there too, but no one had seen her tears, no one had comforted her the way Alexander had. The cat was special.

  Just two weeks ago she’d been forced to leave Alexander with her friend Julie Shaun while she flew to Los Angeles for a botanical conference. While she’d been away, Julie had come down with appendicitis and had been rushed to the hospital. In all the excitement, Alexander had been forgotten. And when Janet got back home, there’d been no sign of him.

  Frantic, she’d searched everywhere. Finally someone had suggested the animal shelter, and she found him there. She’d been so relieved! But there were more problems. She’d arrived without her wallet.

  “We’ll need to see identification before you can take the cat,” the anemic-looking attendant had said in a bored voice. “That and a twenty-dollar fee. And we’re closing in five minutes.”

  “But it’s Friday and you won’t be open again until Monday!”

  “Sorry.”

  So she’d been forced to leave Alexander over the weekend. She could kick herself now for not having tried harder to get him out when she had the chance.

  She should have insisted. She should have raised a ruckus.

  But instead, she was a good citizen, and look what had happened!

  She’d arrived at the animal shelter Monday morning, only half an hour after they’d opened for the day. The anemic man had sniffed at her identification.

  “The big, dark Siamese? Oh. Sorry, but we just gave him away to a Mr. Matt Jessup. Good home. Not to worry.”

  She’d been outraged. “How could you give away my cat? You knew he had an owner!”

  A blank stare. “How was I to know if you’d ever come back? Lots of them don’t, you know. And once an animal has been here for five days, we have a right to do anything we please with them.”

  Murder had not been beyond the possible at that point. If only she’d had a lethal weapon with her. Too bad. Missed opportunity.

  But she had managed to weasel Matt Jessup’s address and phone number out of him, and she’d called right away. But Matt Jessup wouldn’t even come to the phone to discuss it. When she kept calling, he threatened to call the police and charge her with harassment. And that was when she hatched her plot to break in and steal her cat back.

  “I had to have that cat,” Matt was explaining with obtuse male logic. “My elderly Aunt Mavis had a cat who looked just like him. The cat died. She was utterly distraught. She needed a quick replacement. Your cat was a godsend.”

  She turned on him defiantly. “See! Even you admit it. He is my cat.”

  He shrugged. “ ‘Was.’ Not ‘is.’ Possession is nine tenths of the law. And I’ve got a document signed by the animal shelter. What have you got?”

  She didn’t have a thing, and she knew that fact was written across her face as soon as he’d asked the question. “Bring him in here,” she challenged, blue eyes blazing, “and see who he wants to go with.”

  But he didn’t seem to be listening any longer. He stood staring at her, his gaze running over her, as though he were judging her in some obscure way. She moved restlessly under his scrutiny. Suddenly a faint smile tweaked the corners of his mouth. She frowned. What was he thinking? Whatever it was, she was ready to fight against it. She bit her lower lip and waited to counter whatever he had in mind.

  But Matt hardly noticed. A devilish thought had just occurred to him. Delaying a moment, he reached up and rubbed his hand against the back of his neck. Could it be that an answer to his most pressing problem had just fallen into his lap?

  He frowned, still looking her over. She was perhaps a little young to play the role of Vanessa Jessup, but she certainly had the right dark hair color for the part. And she had the looks. He let his gaze wander over her again, lingering, examining every inch. Yes, she had the looks, all right. Her light green eyes were crystal-clear, guileless. If she could just hold that innocent look in the midst of a lie . . .

  Her face was heart-shaped, almost sweet, but just saved from being that by a stubborn chin. Her mouth was small but full, what they used to call “bee stung.” Even camouflaged by the black sweater and jeans she wore he could see that her figure was generous. Touchable. Sexy.

  He felt his lip lift in an involuntary sneer. “Sexy” he could do without. He’d wasted too many good years chasing “sexy.” Right now, competence was all he asked for. He needed a “Vanessa” to present to Mavis Jessup, and he needed her fast.

  The woman he’d hired from Los Angeles to play the part was two days overdue. Mavis was already becoming suspicious. The stories he was handing her as coverup were wearing thin. He’d worked too hard setting up this scam to let it fall apart over an unknown actress’s no-show.

  Janet Cardona would make a perfect Vanessa. She had the nerve for the job. Anyone who could coolly climb into a second-story balcony, risking arrest, all over a silly cat, would dare just about anything. As far as he could see, the only possible problem was in convincing her to do it. That might take a little conning on his part. But what the hell—conning was what he did best, wasn’t it?

  “We’re getting off the subject,” he drawled at last, eyes narrowed assessingly. “You broke into this house. That’s a crime.”

  Something in his tone sent shivers through her. Danger was back.

  “I’ll leave,” she said quickly.

  “I suppose I should call the police,” he went on, that same speculative glint in his gaze. “Have you arrested.”

  She shook her head slowly, her mouth dry. Ordinarily she might laugh off such a threat. But not now, not from this man. There was a ruthless twist to his mouth that she didn’t like at all.

  “They’ve got some pretty strict judges in this area,” he said, arching an eyebrow. “You never know what they’ll do. You might end up with one who could decide to put you away for a few weeks in state prison for what you’ve done.” He gazed at her coolly. “Not a nice place for a pretty girl like you.”

  He was probably bluffing. Still, she had done something illegal and she didn’t like to think of the police being called. She wondered what he was leading up to. Like a used-car salesman, he was setting up a deal. She could smell it. And she was passively waiting for him to spring the trap. She clenched her jaw, disgusted with herself, disgusted with him.

  This was supposed to be a quick and clean operation. She was supposed to be heading home with Alexander in a box by now. What a mess she’d made of it.

  “But then,” he went on earnestly, “I’ve always been opposed to that. I mean, a first-time offender, as you claim to be—why throw you in with the hardened rabble? It’ll only teach you to be a criminal yourself, don’t you think?”

  “Certainly,” she snapped back, losing patience, but gaining courage at the sound of her own voice. “Such an attractive life. How could I resist?”

  His teeth flashed white, but she wasn’t at all sure he was smiling.

  “On the other hand, there are some enlightened districts where they believe in letting the perpetrator work off his or her debt to society, paying the victims back in kind. I find that much more workable. Don’t you agree?”

  It was so obvious he was working up to something, she didn’t bother to answer. “Get to the point,” she said softly, her heart beating.

  “Would you like to pay back what you owe?” A snake charmer couldn’t have sounded more seductive.
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  She was scared but her green eyes flashed. “I don’t owe you anything. You owe me a cat.”

  “Now in your case,” he went on as though she hadn’t spoken, “I can think of several alternatives. But the most logical is to let you pay for your crime directly. We wouldn’t even have to get the criminal justice system involved.”

  She stared at him suspiciously. What on earth was he talking about? Surely he didn’t expect her to . . . to . . . jump into bed with him and they would call it even? The thought sent a shudder down her spine.

  Involuntarily, she glanced at the wide bed at the far wall. To her horror, he caught her look and grinned.

  “Almost right,” he told her cheerfully, reading her mind. “I do want the use of your body. But not quite in that way.”

  She flushed and turned toward the sliding glass door, but he was too fast for her, blocking her path.

  “Hold it, hold it, don’t get excited,” he murmured. He put a hand on her shoulder, but she jerked away from his touch, and he grinned. “It’s not what you think. It’s not anything you could be thinking.”

  She raised her face to glare at him, ready to fight for her virtue if the need arose. “What is it then?”

  He surveyed her lazily before answering, looking her up and down in a cynical assessment that raised her hackles. But what he said next made her forget all that.

  “I’ll tell you what it is,” he said quietly. “I want you to be my wife.”

  CHAPTER TWO:

  A Little Revolution

  Janet blinked, then frowned at him. Surely she’d heard wrong. “Your wife?”

  He nodded. She couldn’t read his eyes any longer, couldn’t tell if that was humor glistening in their depths—or something more dangerous.

  “Just for a few days,” he told her solemnly, then held up a hand as she blanched. “Nothing official, you understand. You’ll just be playing a part.”

  She cleared her throat before speaking again. “A pretend wife?”

  He seemed pleased that she was catching on so quickly. “Exactly.”

  She shook her head, feeling very detached and taking this all in with a wry sense of wonder. After all, she’d never had a man ask her to marry him before. Here she’d waited all these years for that one thrilling moment, and this was what she got.