The Safe Bet

by Brittney Sahin

  His gray eyes lit up when he reached for her hand. “Will Friday work for you? The New York Times and Charlotte Observer want to take a few photos of us during our date. They approached me after the auction ended.” Unlike most of the men at the gala, he wasn’t wearing a tuxedo. He was sporting a sleek, gray, three-piece suit with a bright red necktie.

  He was handsome and seemed nice enough, Kate thought. Could be a lot worse. She hated herself for wishing the date was with Michael, though. “I was planning on leaving for New York tomorrow. Is there any way you could come there? If not, I can fly back for the date.” But she wasn’t sure if she wanted to come back to Charlotte ever again.

  “I would, but I’m making a quick trip to China this week, and I won’t be back until Friday afternoon. We could change the date if you would prefer?”

  At least he was agreeable. “No, that’s okay. We can meet here.” Just change the date. Meet him in New York! Before she had a chance to voice her change of heart, he was leaning forward and pressing a kiss on her cheek.

  “Until Friday.” A grin touched his lips, and he walked away.

  “I hate that guy,” Michael said. He’d walked up beside her after Ethan left.

  “Oh yeah? Why?” Kate asked, fighting back a smile.

  “Because I know what his intentions are. Don’t worry, I’ll talk to him,” he said as he crossed his arms.

  Was he acting like a brother, or was he jealous? She had no clue at this point. And it shouldn’t matter to her.

  “His intentions can’t be any worse than yours.” Kate watched the corner of his lips quirk as his eyes moved over the length of her body. The things he could make her feel with one look. God, help me.

  She forced her attention away from Michael and looked around the almost empty ballroom. She had already said goodbye to Julia, who had walked a few prestigious guests out of the hotel. “You can head out. Everything is all set here.”

  “I’m walking you to your room. Remember?” He held up his hands. “My intentions are honorable, I swear.” There was a tone of mild amusement dancing in his eyes, which had a hint of steely gray in them tonight.

  “Okay.” She found herself agreeing not because she felt sure that she could control her feelings, but rather because she was more afraid of her stalker than of making a mistake with Michael.

  She looked down at the elevator floor once they stepped in, toying with her keycard on the ride up. “Thank you again for allowing me to put this event together. You’ve helped a lot of people, and the work you do is important.” She could feel him watching her. She forced her eyes up to meet his, and neither of them moved to exit the elevator when the doors opened. He looked so broody and contemplative—what was he thinking about?

  The doors began to shut, and he thrust his arm out to stop them.

  “I’m this way,” Kate said, tipping her head to the left as she exited.

  “I remember,” he said before grinning. They walked the short distance down the hall to her room. “I guess this is goodnight.” She could hear disappointment echo through his voice.

  “And goodbye,” she added. She unlocked and pushed the door ajar before turning back toward him. “I probably won’t see you again until we launch the next event. I was thinking we might try the Hamptons at New Years? I mentioned it to Julia, and she loved the idea.”

  Michael studied her for a moment. “I’m not a Hamptons kind of guy. Too many rich, uppity people there.”

  She smirked at him. “And you are?”

  “Not uppity.”

  Was that a school-boy smile? “Okay, no Hamptons, then. I’ll see what I can come up with.”

  “And no auction.”

  She laughed. “Definitely no auction. Although I have to say, we raised quite a lot of money tonight. So, nice job.”

  “Won’t you be in town all week now?”

  “I’m still going to leave tomorrow as planned. I’ll just fly back down for the date Friday.”

  “Maybe we could get dinner when you come back. Or the next time I’m in New York?” His eyes darkened, and he took a step closer to her. “You know, maybe hash out some of the details for the next event.”

  “I don’t know,” she replied, although her body screamed yes. She felt hot and a little dizzy in his presence, which was a feeling she was learning to live with whenever he was around.

  And then she did something stupid.

  She pressed up and touched her lips to his, but pulled away almost immediately, her heart racing in her chest.

  Before she could mutter an apology, Michael reached for her hip with one hand and cupped the back of her neck with his other as he pulled her back against him. His mouth found hers, parting and coaxing her lips open. It all happened so fast. He swung around, so they were both inside her room and kicked the door shut behind him with his leg, never losing grip on her body, her mouth.

  He kissed her with tenderness at first, but as his tongue roamed her mouth, he seemed to lose control. His hand wandered from her neck and through her wavy blonde locks. His other hand held her tight against him.

  When Kate broke contact, she struggled to catch her breath. The desire she’d felt from that kiss had been like nothing she’d ever experienced before. It was sexually stimulating to her and yet way too intimate—exposing her to the very core.

  “I’m sorry.” Fear of tomorrow, of the unknown, settled back inside of her. “That shouldn’t have happened.” She ran her hand over her face, and slipped off her strappy heels and walked toward the bar. “I haven’t had a drink all night, but I think I might need one now,” she said, reaching for a cold bottle of Riesling.

  Michael moved up behind her and touched her shoulder. “Sorry, Kate. I don’t normally come undone like that.” He pushed his hands through his hair. “I told myself I would leave you alone after last night.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the window.

  She set down the unopened bottle of wine and turned to him in surprise. “Michael, I . . .” She stopped talking when she saw the open bedroom door. “I know that I shut that.”

  “Maybe a cleaning person came up here.”

  “At night?” She walked to the bedroom and stopped at the sight of her bed. A stone sank in her stomach, and she fought the urge to let go—to break down and cry.

  The stalker had been in her room. Pictures were splashed all over her bed.

  “Kate?” Michael came up behind her.

  “No, don’t.” She held up her hand, almost too afraid to take a close look at the photos herself.

  “What in God’s name?” He grabbed a handful of pictures and looked back at Kate. “There are so many. And they’re all of you sleeping.”

  She approached him and reached for the photos he was holding. “He was in here while I was asleep?” How had she allowed this to happen? Who could have gotten so close?

  “Who is ‘he’?” Michael demanded.

  “I need to get out of this. I can’t breathe,” she mumbled while tugging at her dress. She stumbled toward the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind her.

  Kate slipped out of her gown and pulled a T-shirt over her head as Michael burst into the bathroom. “Michael,” she shrieked as her face flushed with embarrassment. She was standing there in only a pink T-shirt and red thong.

  “Fuck,” he practically hissed the word and left the bathroom. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” he hollered out. “But what the hell are these pictures all about?”

  “Nothing. I mean, I don’t know,” she answered when she stepped back into the bedroom. She had paired gray yoga pants with her T-shirt. As she walked toward the bed, she began to yank her hair into a ponytail. She sat down beside him on the bed, careful not to look at the pictures.

  “Well, I’m worried.” He rose to his feet and tossed the handful of pictures back onto the bed. He crossed his arms, making it clear he wasn’t going anywhere without answers.

  Kate shrugged. “I don’t know what to say. Some creep has been stalking me. Ever
since I got to Charlotte, I think. I don’t know why.” She bit her thumb and looked down at the ground.

  “You have a stalker? Does Julia know about this?”

  She shook her head no.

  “Aside from these pictures, what else has happened?”

  “I’ve seen someone watching me. Once at a club, and then again at the Mexican restaurant, and tonight at the ball. And—”

  “Shit. You should have told me.”

  “Why? I barely know you.” She stood up and started for the living room. She needed more space to breathe. Michael had a way of absorbing all of the oxygen in the room.

  “Who cares how well you know me! You should’ve asked for help if you were—are—in danger.” He followed her into the living area and pulled out his cell phone.

  “Who are you calling?”

  “The police.”

  “No,” she cried, grabbing his phone and tossing it on the sofa. “I don’t want to make this a big deal. I don’t need the police getting involved. This is my life. I’ll handle it.”

  “You can’t be serious. You think I’m just going to let you handle this?”

  “Let me? Yes, you are going to ‘let me’ handle this. Thanks for caring, but I’ll be fine.” She rubbed her hands over her arms to calm her sudden chill.

  “You’re so damn stubborn.” He heaved out a deep breath. “I have a friend in the FBI. I’ll ask him to do me a favor. Off the books.”

  Why do you care? But she nodded. “Fine.”

  “Anything else I should tell him?”

  She pursed her lips together, deciding how much to divulge. “Yeah. I got a few texts from him as well.” She retrieved her phone and showed him the messages. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to show him the photos inside the red envelope. “I think he sent me those flowers the other night.”

  “Is this the real reason you changed hotels? You were scared?” he asked after viewing the texts.

  “Yeah. And there’s more.” She walked over to her purse and reached inside for the envelope. “Here,” she said, handing it to him.

  He opened the envelope and removed the photos. “I don’t understand,” he said after looking through the images. “What the hell does this have to do with me?” He grimaced and took a seat on the couch.

  “The one of us dancing—turn it over.”

  He read the message and looked up at Kate. “There’s no way you’re going back to New York.”

  “Of course I’m leaving Charlotte. Are you kidding?” She shut her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose.

  “Did it ever occur to you that this person wants you back in New York for some Godforsaken reason? Maybe running back to Manhattan would be even less safe than staying. You just don’t know.” He rubbed his hand over his clean-shaven jaw and tossed the photo on the coffee table. “I don’t know why in the hell your stalker is sending you pictures of me with other women, but I do know the situation is out of control.”

  “I don’t know what to do.”

  “You need a bodyguard until my friend catches the bastard who is following you,” Michael said while lifting his eyes to meet hers. “And you need to cancel your date on Friday.”

  “What? No way. I made a commitment . . . for the foundation. I can’t back out now. I will not let some psycho scare me out of doing the right thing,” she said, vehemently shaking her head. “And hell no, I’m not having some bodyguard follow me around—I’m already being followed enough.”

  “That part is non-negotiable,” he said as he rose to his feet. “Listen, Kate, I may not know you that well, but like it or not I’m going to help you. I’m not about to let someone hurt you. I won’t let it happen.” His words were stern, but his actions were now gentle. He placed his hands on her arms and slid them down to her wrists.

  “Okay, fine. Call a watchdog. Let me know how much he’s charging, and I’ll handle the bill.”

  A smile slipped to Michael’s lips. “Go ahead and pack your bags.” He pulled away from her and picked up his phone.

  “Why?”

  “Because you’ll be staying at my place.”

  “Now you’re out of your mind.” She gaped at him.

  “Julia’s going back out of town for a few weeks, so you won’t be secure at her place. I can keep you safe. If you’re worried I’ll try to . . . you don’t need to worry about me, okay? I can restrain myself. Just don’t go walking around naked or anything.”

  Before Kate had a chance to rebut, Michael was on the phone with the concierge, requesting that the hotel retrieve her luggage and bring the bags down to his car. He collected the photos from her bed during brief lulls in the conversation, and this suited Kate fine. She never wanted to see the pictures again.

  She watched Michael move around her hotel room as if she were a bystander, watching a scene unfold. The sheer dread and panic that had caught in her throat when she saw the pictures on her bed had faded, and she felt numb and a bit chagrinned. To think that someone had stood by her bed and watched her sleep, having access to her to do God knew what . . . the thought brought a bubble of pure horror back to her throat. If she didn’t stop the train of what-ifs that were trammeling her mind, she would lose her sanity.

  Fortunately, Michael distracted her. He all-but scooped her into his arms and carried her out of the hotel. She slid into his black, Audi R8 Spyder and clasped her hands in her lap. She had been rushed out of her room and to his car so fast that she’d had no time to think. What was she getting herself into? Would she truly be safer with the man around whom she could barely breathe?

  Michael ignored Kate’s feeble protests as he zipped down the streets and into the garage of his uptown penthouse. Without uttering a word, he parked, opened the door for Kate, and grabbed her two suitcases. He motioned for her to follow him to a nearby elevator. He punched in a key code—oh, a private elevator—and they jerked upwards.

  The doors opened directly into the foyer of his home. Kate entered with caution echoing in every footstep. She looked around, first noticing the high ceilings, wooden beams, and exposed brick. His place screamed uptown New York much more than it did Charlotte, but she liked it. The large living space was decorated in warm, neutral colors with oversized, plush furniture. It was nothing like the modern bachelor pads she’d seen from other rich men, whose décor was cold and simple—all right angles and black and white. The handmade oak coffee table and light brown throw rug in front of the fireplace made her want to curl up with a glass of wine and a good book. God, she wished that was what she could do right now—and not be the protagonist of some thriller movie.

  She pushed away her fears and refocused on his loft. “I love the rustic look of the place. I mean it’s modern and all, in terms of the features.” She scanned the sophisticated kitchen, its top-of-the-line appliances. “But it’s also so inviting.” She dropped her purse on the marble countertop in the kitchen before stifling a yawn. She shook her head, surprised that she was already feeling so comfortable, and she leaned against the counter. “This is very different from your office.”

  “My sister decorated the office. We have different styles.”

  “I don’t know how you managed to talk me into coming here.”

  “I didn’t give you much of a choice,” he remarked. “Something to drink?”

  “No, thanks. I should get some rest.”

  “Okay. Follow me.” They exited the kitchen, and he retrieved her luggage before they walked down a long hall that held a series of doors.

  The guest room was like the rest of the house—decorated in warm tones, with soft lighting. The king-sized bed was perched atop a dark walnut, sleigh-style frame and adorned with creamy silk linens. Hanging over the headboard was a photograph of a still lake surrounded by mountains. A breathtaking view.

  “Did you take that photo?” she asked, seating herself on the bed.

  “Yeah,” he replied. “It’s my place in Boulder. A place to escape when the world gets a little too loud.” He was looking dow
n at the floor.

  She smiled and waited for him to bring his eyes back up. Was he okay?

  “Anything I can get for you? There are towels and stuff in the bathroom,” he said, pointing to the adjoining door.

  “I think I’m good.” Well, as good as she could be in her current situation.

  “Okay. Well, I’m going to call my friend tomorrow morning about your stalker. We’ll see what he comes up with.” Michael reached for the doorknob.

  “I hate to say it, but what can he do with only a few texts and photos? I’m sure there are no prints.”

  Michael grinned. “If anyone can find this guy, it’s Jake,” he assured her. He stared down at her as if fighting the impulse to join her on the bed. “Goodnight.”

  *

  Michael walked away from Kate’s room and to the master suite, which was on the other side of his house. There were guest rooms closer to his, but he preferred to keep her as far away as possible. He needed to put some distance between them. She’d be the first woman who wasn’t family to sleep over. As much as he wanted to keep her safe, the idea of having her under the same roof had him nervous.

  He hurried into his bathroom to take a shower, needing to cool off.

  Despite the cold water, his arousal heightened when his thoughts drifted to Kate.

  I’m such an asshole. The woman has a stalker, and I’m . . . Jesus.

  After showering, he tried to dull his senses by reading the news on his tablet, but he only tossed around in his bed, ruffling up the sheets.

  Around two in the morning, he wandered into the living room. He rubbed his jaw and moved toward the long wall of windows that overlooked the city.

  “What are you doing up?” he asked when noticing Kate’s reflection. He turned around to face her, which probably wasn’t the best idea.

  She was wearing a flimsy silk nightgown that stopped a few inches above her knees. She hugged her arms, out of nervousness or perhaps to conceal the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra.