by Joanne Rock
Not that he would say as much. He had a little more couth than that. “Nice blooms. Are you breaking hearts again, Bri?”
When she didn’t respond, he tore his eyes from the obscenely large arrangement to look at her. She seemed unnaturally still.
“Bri?” He wished he could see behind those damn sunglasses of hers. Her cheeks looked pale but for two blotches of bright color in the middle.
Was she embarrassed? Somehow, that didn’t fit with his image of her.
“It’s nothing.” She waved away the moment with a jumpy swat of her hand. “I’ll just go grab those banking records and you can be on your way.”
She hustled up the steps and sidestepped the flowers. No easy task considering their girth on the front mat. Dropping her keys once—make that twice—she finally managed to get the door open and disappeared inside.
And still she hadn’t so much as glanced at the card on the gargantuan bouquet.
Obviously she knew exactly who had sent her the posies. Orchids, actually. Aidan recognized the assorted purple and white petals from his semifrequent trips to the florist during his short stint as a married man. Orchids had always been out of his price range, even when he’d spent seventy-two hours straight on the job and pissed off Natalie to the extreme.
This offering must have cost some guy an arm and a leg.
And just why should it bother him that Brianne had found a boyfriend with deep pockets? Good for her.
Ya-freaking-hoo.
He mentally scrambled for reasons why knowing who sent the damn flowers had any bearing on his case so he could feel justified in reading the card. Too bad he came up dry in an attack of principles.
Damn.
Brianne was back in a flash anyhow, shoving a manila envelope in his face, her dark sunglasses still barring her eyes from view. “Here you go. No need to bring them back today. I’ll just pick up the package tomorrow when I see you at the club.”
“Why do I feel like I’m being dismissed?”
“Damn it, Aidan, I’m not into playing Miss Manners like my mother. I helped you today—repeatedly— and I’m not about to feel guilty because I’ve got other things I need to take care of.”
Like her high roller boyfriend.
Aidan felt a headache the size of Melvin Baxter’s bankroll coming on. “Fine. I’m going to swing by the club this afternoon anyway to check things out. You want some help bringing the five-ton flower extravaganza inside before I go?”
She shook her head. Vehemently. “No thanks. I’ve got them.” She stretched her lips into something that might have resembled a smile had there been any warmth of feeling behind it. “Bye, Aidan.”
The door shut with a soft thud and a dull click of a lock on the other side.
Well, damn.
No denying it, he was a little miffed.
If Brianne had some other guy waiting in the wings, she shouldn’t be playing out hot and sexy fantasies with him. And it was too damn late to tell himself to leave his emotions out of it.
Judging by how fast miffed turned into jealous as hell, Aidan couldn’t deny his emotions were already too damn engaged.
But he wouldn’t be helping his investigation if he went down that road. Sending Melvin Baxter to a federal penitentiary would offer him closure on his long-ago case from hell. He’d waited, kept silent about all the in-house cover-ups involved for too many years to botch up his chance for redemption now. He’d lift a blot from his name that had hovered around him no matter how much he’d kicked ass in every assignment since then.
Regardless of how enticing Brianne and her penchant for role-playing might be, his focus had to remain on his job.
BRIANNE REFUSED TO open the front door again until her hands stopped shaking. She watched, fixated, as her fingers trembled over the dead bolt.
The flowers still waited outside on the front step as Aidan’s car rumbled out of the driveway.
Who’d have thought orchids wrapped in tissue paper and surrounded with exotic greenery could scare her to the roots of her hair?
They had to be from Jimmy. There hadn’t been any other man in her life for over a year, except Aidan. And he obviously hadn’t sent them.
When she’d first spied the bouquet on her doorstep, she’d wanted nothing more than to jump behind him and make him go read the card. His whole job was about protecting people—surely he could help her figure out how to shake one nightmare of an ex-boyfriend?
But then again, why dump on him after she’d already promised she would stay out of his way in this investigation? She’d distracted him during his first case against Mel, why divert him from his cause all over again?
No, Aidan didn’t need to hear about her problems. It was enough that he’d been there to walk her to the door and make sure no one jumped out from the bushes. She’d call the local cops in a minute.
Perfectly rational, right? Okay, maybe not super rational given that her stupid pride had also been driving her actions. What would he think of her if he discovered she was not only linked to a big-time swindler in Miami, but a potentially dangerous stalker in New York? She was obviously quite skilled at associating herself with scary guys.
Gulping a few extra breaths to settle her nerves, she worked herself halfway to hyperventilation. A totally useless state. She needed to develop a rational plan and then act on it.
First, she would read the card and confirm her worst fears. Then she’d call the cops and alert them to her situation. Last, she would work her tail off to update the security on her house and her car.
Standing in her foyer and quaking in her high heels served zero purpose.
She wrenched open the front door and hauled the flowers inside. No way would she read the card outdoors where she could have a coronary out in the open. She’d do her hyperventilating in the privacy of her own home, thank you very much.
After edging the heavy arrangement into the hall, she dropped it on the floor and felt around for the card. Snagging the crisp white envelope, she backed toward the bench where Summer’s fabric samples still lay. She clutched the burgundy velvet to her like a security blanket, as if she could wring some metaphysical connection with her new friend simply by holding on to the fabric.
And knowing Summer, she would probably say such a thing was possible.
Had Jimmy found her? Was he angry that she’d left New York and robbed him of his daily stalker routine? She yanked the card out of the envelope and read:
Thanks for covering for me. You’re the best. Mel.
Melvin?
Her brain scurried to adjust her thinking. She was still safe. Jimmy wouldn’t be skulking around Ocean Drive looking for her. Or at least, not yet.
Her relief that her ex-boyfriend wasn’t on her trail was quickly overcome by anger that her crooked former stepfather would send her such a sentiment. He thought she was covering for him?
On what planet exactly did he see that happening?
Steam hissed through her, a welcome change after the fear that had gripped her moments before.
The rat bastard.
How dare he assume she’d aid and abet a criminal— even if she had called him daddy for a few years when she was still young and naïve? And what could he possibly have construed as covering for him when she’d been very forthcoming with Aidan from the start?
Hell’s bells. She was going to have to show the note to Aidan.
And she couldn’t put it off until tomorrow, not when it could be important to his investigation. For all she knew, maybe he could track down how the flowers had been sent and find out something about Mel’s location that way.
According to Aidan, they didn’t give out those FBI badges to every Joe Blow on the street corner after all.
He’d said he was going to make a stop at the club today. He ought to be easy enough to find.
So even though she’d only just parted company with the man, she had no choice but to track him down again so she could spend more time with him on her only day off
this week.
She’d never been a betting woman given her run-ins with Mel’s swindler buddies as a youth. But she’d love to know what the odds were that she’d be able to walk away from the man twice in one day without touching him.
Gathering up her purse, she shoved the florist’s card in a side compartment. Luckily, she also needed to make a quick stop at police headquarters and beef up her home security. Just in case.
There wouldn’t be any time to contemplate Aidan’s killer bod.
Or his sexy voice.
Or his willingness to play lovers’ games with her.
She had serious business to take care of today and no run-in with Aidan would make her forget it. Once she revealed her news about Mel contacting her, she’d discuss her recurring problems with her ex at the police station.
And then, by God, she’d be ready to claim her future—free and clear of dangerous men.
SOMETHING ABOUT BRIANNE’S flowers didn’t sit well with Aidan. Too bad he didn’t realize what it was until he looked past the dumb-ass jealousy that had been gnawing at him ever since he pulled out of her driveway.
He was already prowling the dimly lit back halls of Club Paradise when he finally realized what bothered him.
The hang-up phone call she’d received earlier that day.
Hadn’t he told himself—and her—he was going to be on the lookout for her in light of that phone call? Yet it hadn’t occurred to him that those flowers she received might be connected to the phone call. And the only reason he hadn’t put the two things together in his mind was because he was too busy envying the guy who’d caught Bri’s eye.
Could he be a bigger idiot?
Suddenly, he couldn’t cross his fingers enough that those damn orchids had been from an admirer. Far better that than if they were from some creep who was bothering her.
He yanked a phone from the pocket of his suit jacket and jabbed in the numbers for her cell. Damned if at that same moment, a phone didn’t start ringing from somewhere behind him in the semidarkness.
Standing utterly still he waited. Listened.
A feminine voice purred through the receiver and through the echoing corridor under construction.
“Hello?”
That throaty voice would send shivers down a man’s spine if the subject at hand hadn’t been so important.
“Where are you?”
She gasped. A quick intake of breath that enabled him to locate her. Two doors down behind some scaffolding.
“We need to talk.” He spoke into the receiver and then folded the phone closed as he spotted her.
Her pale skin stood out in the shadows, her arms bared by the brown silk tank top she wore from earlier in the day. Although daylight still shone outside, the interior corridors of the hotel lacked windows. The lights seemed to be on some energy-saving mode where they only came on when the lounge was open downstairs or when construction work was underway.
She spotted him too, jabbing the off button on her phone and stuffing it into the slim briefcase she carried. She looked a little frazzled, which in light of her usual perfect appearance meant she had a few windblown hairs breezing around her neck. And she had her shoes off.
“Are you okay?” He studied her, refusing to let his emotions do his thinking for him this time around. The only unusual thing he could find was that she was carrying her high heels instead of wearing them on her feet. With most women, that wouldn’t surprise him at the end of the day, but it seemed a bit informal for the woman raised by Palm Beach’s answer to Emily Post. “What gives with the shoes?”
“I was trying to be quiet because I knew you wouldn’t be expecting anyone else to be here. And no, everything’s not okay.” She thrust her hand forward to give him a piece of paper. “Read this.”
Apparently she’d been sneaking up on him, thanks to her damn camera system. He might have grumbled about that a little if he hadn’t been so concerned about what had upset her.
The paper was actually a tiny envelope. Like a florist’s card.
Tearing out the note inside he read a couple of short lines that did an excellent job of incriminating Brianne.
Thanks for covering for me. You’re the best. Mel.
“I don’t know what he’s referring to.” She met his gaze head-on. Her voice never wavered. “But I wanted to give you this in case you could trace the flower order and find out where it came from.”
The envelope lacked a business name, but that many orchids had to be a memorable order for any store. Assuming they were obtained locally. “I’ll look into it.”
He shoved the card in his pocket. The evidence would keep. Right now, he needed to interrogate a woman full of mysteries who could probably help him a hell of a lot more. He slung one arm around the metal pole of the scaffolding, anchoring himself in case she got fired up about this.
“I know you’re not going to want to answer this question, Brianne, but it’s related to the investigation and doesn’t have a damn thing to do with us personally. I need to know who you thought the flowers were from in the first place. Did you suspect they were from Mel and that’s why you wanted me out of there so fast?”
Her forehead wrinkled as if she exercised great effort to follow his logic. “Why would I spend my day off hunting you down to show this to you if I thought they were from him in the first place? I could have saved myself a lot of time if I’d just handed you the card while you were on my front doorstep.”
“Maybe you had an attack of conscience?” Hell, he didn’t know. She probably still harbored some affection for the guy. From what Aidan had gathered, Mel had provided her with the most stable father figure she’d had in her life. “It’s not like I’d think you belonged on the Most Wanted list if you tried to give him a hand.”
“Could we not talk about this here?” She glanced around the hallway and then down at her mini viewing screen on the pseudo-watch she wore whenever she was at the club. “We do have cleaning staff and construction people who work when we’re closed.”
Spying a door not two feet from her elbow, he steered her toward it. “Do you have a master key or do you want to see my lock picking skills in action?”
She sighed, pressed a button on her little computer pad and the green light flared beside the doorknob.
Aidan shoved his way into a room filled with lavender silk curtains around the bed and more pastel silk hangings all over the walls. Covered rattan baskets served as low tables while fat silky cushions dotted the floor. The only light fixtures were wall sconces in the shape of candelabra.
“It’s a harem.” And he had to think he wasn’t the only guy who would find it a bit of a challenge to crack cases in a harem.
“Summer’s calling it the Pasharina’s Palace so far, but we’re trying to convince her there are only pashas and not pasharinas. If any great names for the room come to you, by all means let me know and I’ll throw them into the pot.” She stood amid the flowing silks and seemed quite content to discuss a new topic, but Aidan needed a few more answers first.
“I’ll get back to you. Now, can you tell me who you thought the flowers were from since you didn’t think they were from Melvin?” He searched for a place to sit, but all the lush pillows and sensual fabrics begged more intimacy than either he or Brianne could afford.
Her jaw flexed. Tightened. Pursing her lips, she glared at him for two slow heartbeats before she said a word. “I thought they were from a guy in New York. An old boyfriend.”
That would do for a start anyway. “Can I have his name?”
“I need a damn alibi to receive flowers?”
“Damn it, Brianne, don’t make this any harder than it already is. Just give me a name and we’ll leave it at that.”
“I don’t want to leave it at that. I want you to find Melvin and lock him up so I can get on with my life. What I’m objecting to is having my past unearthed for the sake of a flower alibi.” She sounded rattled and he hated knowing he’d disrupted her life that much.
“His name is James Vanderwalk and he lives on the lower West Side. Our breakup ranked as a monumental disaster in his life and I’m eager to put some distance between us.” She seemed to settle down with the admission. Tossing aside her shoes and her briefcase, she strode across the light-colored carpet to a wet bar surrounded by small potted trees and hanging plants. A desert oasis.
“And does this James guy know you’re living down here now?” He definitely needed to know more about a relationship that still had the power to rattle Brianne. The woman was hell on wheels and a security genius.
It seemed as though any guy who could upset her that much had to be more than just your run-of-the-mill jerk.
She tugged a bottle of wine from a hidden shelf of the wet bar, or maybe she’d gotten it from one of those in-room vending machines. Either way, she set it on the bar and started unwinding the paper seal from around the neck.
“I hope like hell he doesn’t know I’m down here, Aidan, and trust me, it’s the kind of story that requires a drink with the telling.”
He didn’t like the sound of that one damn bit. In fact, the hair on the back of his neck stood straight up while his fists urged his brain to find out how fast they could lay waste to this James guy.
But he wasn’t a street thug unless the situation called for it. He’d grown up in neighborhoods a hell of a lot tougher than anything South Beach had to offer and he’d managed to haul himself up out of those years by keeping his nose clean whenever possible. Still, the thought of Brianne having to defend herself against an obsessive lunatic made his fists clench.
Somehow, he shoved those thoughts aside enough to cross the room and join her at the bar. Right now, he was going to find out a hell of a lot more than how fast he could tank one James Vanderwalk.
Seeing a definite exception to his no drinking on the job rule, he yanked two glasses from a cabinet behind the bar and stood them on the counter.
“You’re not leaving until you tell me everything.”
