by Kara Lennox
“How often do you share intimate meals with your female guests? One-on-one?”
She had him there. “Pretty much never.”
“Jillian is threatened by my presence. Although we know that your interest in me is purely professional, she worries that it’s something else.”
“Are you sure?” If Jamie was right, he had a big problem.
“I’m positive. She already does everything a wife does—she runs your house, handles your schedule, sees to every detail of your needs. I’ll bet she even buys your clothes for you.”
Damn it, Jamie was right. “She doesn’t do everything a wife does,” he pointed out.
“No, but she wants to. She wants to have the Christmas party here, because then she could act as your hostess, the queen bee. She figures all she has to do is seduce you, and once you’re sleeping together, all she lacks is a wedding ring.”
“How long has this been going on?” he asked aloud. It was meant as a rhetorical question, but Jamie answered anyway.
“Probably since she first met you. Think about it. She’s the young, impressionable girl, you’re the older, sophisticated heir apparent to all this.” Jamie swung her arms wide, encompassing his whole estate, he supposed. “It probably started out as a case of hero worship. While you were in prison, she waited for you.”
“She went to college,” he objected.
“And wrote you letters once a week, I’ll bet.”
Daniel winced. “Yes. One of the few people who did. Her loyalty impressed me.”
“Did you write back to her?”
“Yes. What else did I have to do? Her letters cheered me up, and it would have been rude not to acknowledge them.”
“She saw it as an intimate connection, a secret you two shared, in a way. You were a romantic figure. And when you came home, she probably made it her mission to make up for what you suffered. Did she sign on as your personal assistant then?”
“Yes.”
“Has she had a boyfriend in all those years?”
“Not that I know of. Jamie, you’re interrogating me.”
She’d been leaning across the corner of the table, almost in his face. Now she slumped back into her chair. “Sorry. It’s a habit. Probably the reason I haven’t had a relationship that lasted more than five minutes.”
Daniel tucked that bit of information away to dissect later. Right now, he had more pressing problems. “Damn it, you’re right. What am I going to do?”
“If you don’t return her feelings—”
“Of course I don’t. I value her and trust her as a friend, but not…” He shuddered. That would be so wrong.
“Then you should confront her and tell her. Tell her there is no chance the two of you will ever be together. You can’t let her keep mooning over you.”
He considered Jamie’s advice. “Or,” he said after a moment, “I relocate her to a different job. To Logan Oil…or, with her organizational skills, she could do wonders at Project Justice. I’ll move her to her own apartment. Once she’s not around me every day, she’ll meet other men, develop other interests.”
“That is the coward’s way out.”
“I never said I was brave. Oh, God, how will I function without her?”
“She’s made you dependent on her, just by being so damned efficient. Cutting the ties will be good for both of you.”
He really didn’t like that Jamie could see things so clearly. She was an outsider. How could she know the things she knew?
Manuel entered to clear their dishes, and Daniel realized he’d forgotten completely about why Jamie was here. Time to get back to business.
“Thanks, Manuel. Say, Manuel, is Jillian in love with me?” He expected his question to evoke a laugh and a quick denial. Instead, Manuel bit his lower lip and looked away.
“It’s not my place to say, sir. You always say how you don’t like gossip.” He grabbed some dishes and hightailed it out of the dining room.
Jamie flashed him an I-told-you-so smirk.
“I’ll see about transferring her—right after the holiday party. She really does love planning events, and I don’t want to ruin that for her. Now, let’s get back to work.”
“I’m ready.”
They worked until almost midnight, mostly arguing over what to ask Christopher, and when. The way they approached this interview reflected their vastly different agendas. Once they agreed that Daniel’s friendlier questions should come first, followed by Jamie’s more confrontational approach, they made quick progress.
Finally, though, Jamie had to throw in the towel. “I’ve got an early appearance in court tomorrow,” she said. “Much as I’ve become fascinated by these murders, I still have a job, and I owe it to the good people of Harris County to show up with some semblance of a clear mind.”
“Understood. We made good progress. Tomorrow, you’ll send the metal-shavings evidence to PrakTech Labs?”
“Yes.” She’d been trying to figure out how to accomplish that task without Winston finding out. But he probably wouldn’t. He was so busy worrying about his public image, and whether his suits were tailored correctly, that he seldom observed anything that didn’t get thrust right in front of his face.
“Then I’ll walk you out.”
Daniel was nothing if not a gentleman. His courtliness was refreshing, if a bit archaic, in this age of supposed equality between the sexes. She found herself charmed and leery all at the same time, wondering if he was buttering her up, manipulating her for the next big thing he was going to ask of her.
“Tomorrow, I’m going to track down the mystery DNA results from both cases and send them off for comparison. I’ll also submit them both to the database again. Neither could be matched years ago. It’s a long shot, but the database grows every day.”
“Excellent idea. And you are going to make it on Wednesday, right?”
She’d been telling herself all evening that she would have to think about it some more before committing to calling in sick on Wednesday. She’d never missed a day of work in her life, and certainly not for something so subversive.
But she never would have prepared so thoroughly for the meeting if she hadn’t intended to be there.
“Yes. How will we get to Wichita Falls? It’s a long drive.”
“We’ll fly, of course.”
Of course. When money was no object, you flew wherever you wanted to go. “I’ll pay for my own ticket.” She didn’t want her acceptance of free air travel to come back later and bite her in the butt.
“I’ll send you a bill.” He smiled crookedly at her, and she got the feeling she’d never see that bill.
Funny, a few days ago she never would have considered flying to a strange town with Daniel and not telling anyone. But the more time she spent with him, the harder it was to view him as a murderer. If her father had gotten to know Daniel, would he still have prosecuted the case?
Daniel held her leather jacket while she slid her arms into it, then opened the massive front door and walked her to her Subaru, which looked even smaller and shabbier than usual in these overblown surroundings. She had to admit, though, the place was beautiful at night—artfully lit. The fountain in the center of the circular driveway gurgled softly.
In any other circumstances, she might have described the surroundings as romantic. Girl, boy, alone… No. Keep your mind on business.
“Jamie, thank you for coming—for everything. I know you’re taking a tremendous risk for me, and I appreciate it.”
“It’s not for you.”
“For Christopher, then.”
“And for me. If I was wrong about Christopher…well, it shakes my faith in the whole justice system.”
“The justice system isn’t perfect, because it relies on the feelings and opinions of human beings, who are also not perfect. People make mistakes, perfectly natural mistakes. It’s no reason to doubt yourself, or to think you’re not good at your job.”
Oh, but it did. It would change everything
about how she saw her work. She still clung to the possibility that Christopher was responsible for both murders, but she kept that fact to herself.
“Let’s touch base tomorrow.” She needed to get home and regroup. Spending so much time in this fantasyland Daniel called home was messing with her brain.
She opened her car and climbed in, stuck her key in the ignition, twisted and…nothing. The engine was deader than a doornail.
“Oh, God, not now,” she grumbled. Of all times and places to have car trouble. This was going to be awkward.
As she opened her door again, Daniel stopped on his way inside and turned. “Problem?”
“Dead battery.” She pulled her phone out of her purse. “I’ll just call my auto club. They’ll come in a jiffy and give me a charge. If you can just make sure they can get through the front gate, I’ll wait here for them.”
“You’ll do no such thing. It’s late, and you need your sleep. I have a guest room waiting, and by morning your car will be ready to drive. I’ll have Randall take care of it.”
It must be nice to be rich! This time, though, she refrained from ribbing Daniel about his easy life.
She tried one more time. “Really, you don’t have to.”
“Look.” He strode purposefully toward her. “I’m not going to leave you sitting out here in the cold waiting for Triple A, because I won’t be able to sleep. And I value my sleep. So come inside, make both of our lives easier.”
“All right. Thanks,” she added reluctantly. She hated depending on him.
What if he’d tampered with her car? Now he would lure her to his den and turn her into a sex slave.
She grinned, realizing that such a fate didn’t appall her as much as it should have. Daniel was definitely getting under her skin.
WHEN JAMIE AWOKE the next morning, she felt like a storybook princess. The room certainly befitted royalty, with a bed made up of pale blue satin linens and carpet she could lose her feet in.
Though she wasn’t ready to face the day, she forced herself to slide out from under the feather comforter, put her feet on that fantastic carpet and head into the ridiculous bathroom.
The bathroom featured a huge shower and a whirlpool bath, both big enough for two. Her traitorous mind couldn’t help but conjure an image of herself with Daniel, naked, bodies slick with melon-scented soap as they writhed—
Damn. She had to get her mind back on business, and fast. Better make her shower water cold.
But when she turned the shower handle, the faucet didn’t come on. Frowning, she tried the faucet to the whirlpool tub. Water gushed out. Oh, well, she’d take a bath instead of a shower. She used some of the vanilla-scented bath crystals sitting on a shelf above the toilet, sprinkling them into the water and creating mountains of bubbles.
The bathtub had its own flat-screen TV mounted on the wall. Perfect, she could multitask. Seeing no remote control, she pushed the power button and was about to sink into the warm, softly scented water when she remembered her washcloth. She stepped out of the water.
That was when the entire TV pulled loose from the wall and crashed into the tub, complete with sparking, smoking wires. Jamie could actually feel the electricity in the air. The bathroom lights flickered and went out.
Her heart thudding, Jamie sank to the floor as her knees would no longer support her.
She’d just come within an inch of electrocution.
Once the immediate reaction of fear and relief wore off, anger took its place. Who would put a TV over a bathtub anyway? That was ridiculous. And if they did, why wouldn’t they make sure it was securely mounted?
Gingerly, she turned off the running water, then grabbed her robe, stuffed her arms into the sleeves and cinched it closed with a tug, ready to march downstairs, find Daniel and give him a piece of her mind.
Turned out that wasn’t necessary. As she plowed through the bathroom door, Daniel was rushing into her bedroom calling her name. An agitated Tucker was right behind him.
“Jamie. Oh, thank God you’re okay. Security reported a huge power surge in this part of the house. I called several times and you didn’t answer.” To her dismay he put his arms around her and hugged her. And here she was, with only a robe on, one that was gaping at the neck.
Suddenly the anger went out of her and she got all wobbly-kneed again. “Daniel, I almost died. The TV…fell in the bath…”
“What?” He gently disengaged from the hug and led her to the edge of the bed, so she could sit down. She tugged her robe more securely closed.
“I was running a bath. I went to turn on the TV and it fell right into the water.”
Daniel marched into the bathroom and cursed colorfully. “How could this have happened? The TV shouldn’t have been loose. I have one in my bathroom, too, and a jackhammer couldn’t get it free from the tile.”
Tucker, calmer now, sat next to Jamie and placed one big paw in her lap, as if checking to make sure she was really okay. Jamie petted him absently.
Daniel exited the bathroom, looking shaken. “Jamie, I’m so sorry. When these TVs were installed, I questioned the safety, but the company assured me they weren’t a danger, even if you touched them with wet hands.”
“You’d better report this to the company, then. It’s a product-liability lawsuit waiting to happen, if it hasn’t already.”
He smiled at her. “I guess you’re okay, if you’re thinking like a lawyer.”
“I’m okay.” She picked up her cell phone, which she’d left on the nightstand. “I really need to get dressed and get going.”
“Breakfast is ready whenever you are. We’re eating in the breakfast room off the kitchen today.”
“I don’t have time. I still have to go home and change clothes.” She stood and shooed him out of the room. “What about my car?”
“It’s fine. A loose battery cable. Oh, and check the closet. There’s probably something appropriate in your size. The dresser drawers will have, um, intimate apparel, too.”
Of course they would.
As soon as he left the bedroom, the lights came back on. No way was Jamie getting near that bathtub again. She settled for a quick scrub-down with a wet washcloth, then opened the closet and found several clothing selections, including a delicious gray wool suit in a size 8, designer label, that still had the tags. Everything he’d promised was there—including new undies still in the package.
Amazing. She could skip a trip home and eat breakfast instead. The fact that she wanted to share breakfast with Daniel, almost more than anything right now, surprised her.
THAT WAS THE SECOND TIME Daniel had spontaneously hugged Jamie McNair. He’d never been a hugger.
As he headed down the stairs, Tucker trotting ahead of him, Daniel pondered the meaning of his recent behavior. The first time he’d hugged her, he’d been grateful. This time, he’d been overwhelmed with relief that Jamie was okay.
Having spent so much time with her lately, both physically and in his mind, he felt strangely close to her. But close enough for his arguably inappropriate physical contact?
Jillian met him in the sunny breakfast room, a large, glass-walled enclosure filled with plants. The floor had been crafted from antique Mexican tiles. The room always felt good to him, warm and cheerful.
Jillian looked a crisp, wintry contrast in ice-blue wool and cashmere.
“Daniel, what’s going on? A power surge?”
“A TV in the blue guest room fell in the bath. Almost fried Jamie McNair to a crisp. Jillian, I want you to call the company that installed those TVs—”
“Wait. Jamie McNair is…here?” Her face turned icy, like her outfit.
“She had car trouble last night. Seemed easier to just let her stay over.”
“Car trouble. And then she almost died from a TV in the bath? And you don’t see through her act?”
“Jillian,” he said sternly.
“Daniel.” She lowered her voice, too. “I know you think this woman is the cat’s pajamas, but have
you gone crazy? She probably sabotaged her own car, then rigged the TV to fall in the water. Think about it. Those TVs don’t just fall off the walls.”
“This one did. And you’re wrong to insinuate that Jamie is to blame.” Although, now that he thought about it, it was odd that he hadn’t immediately suspected some nefarious plot on Jamie’s part.
She could have easily disconnected a battery cable on her car. But if she did, it would be on his security video. What if she’d instigated some plan to blame him for her near-death, to distract him enough that he would be forced to give up the Christopher Gables case?
“You see it now, don’t you?” Jillian said, a note of triumph in her voice.
He refused to give Jillian the point. “Just make the call. I’ll deal with Jamie. And let Tucker outside, please.”
As Jillian stalked out of the room, dragging a reluctant Tucker by the collar, he picked up the phone and pushed the button that would instantly connect him to his on-site security office. “Doug?”
“Brandon, sir.”
“Oh, right. I need you to review some video. I had a guest arrive last night in a blue Subaru. Check the video from the driveway cam and see if she opened the hood of her car when she got out, or if she came straight to the front door. Then check to see if anyone tampered with the car while she was inside,” he added as an afterthought.
“Yes, sir.”
“Let me know ASAP.”
There. He’d done his due diligence, and he would be pleased to prove Jillian wrong.
Why wasn’t he more suspicious of Jamie? But the thought that she might have a malicious agenda hadn’t crossed his mind until…well, frankly, until Jillian brought up the possibility.
Then, a terrible thought occurred to him. What if Jillian was somehow responsible? Jamie claimed his personal assistant was in love with him. What if she was jealous of Jamie and wanted to get rid of her somehow?
No. In the first place, he couldn’t see her putting her hands into a car engine, or doing a complex sabotage of a TV. He knew Jillian. She could be stubborn, and she liked things a certain way, but she wasn’t devious, and no way was she homicidal.
