Beth fumbled to swipe the key in the door while holding two paper cups and a folded paper bag. The first try didn't work. The red light just blinked at her. She was about to go for the second try when the door swung open.
Charlie stood there, still in his white T-shirt and plaid boxers.
Woohoo. That's what she'd been hoping for. Not that briefs would have been bad. There were very few games in life where everyone ended up a winner.
“What are you doing up?” she asked, stepping inside.
“I was about to ask you the same thing.”
“I couldn't sleep, so I decided to go downstairs and get a coffee. I thought that you might like one too.” She handed him the cup. “I didn't know what you liked, so I guessed.”
He pulled off the lid and peered inside. “Black coffee. You guessed right.”
“You seem the type. There's a muffin in the bag if you want it.”
He reached in and pulled out the oversized blueberry muffin.
“Thanks.”
Beth went over to the window and pulled back the drapes. The sky had just begun to lighten. A purplish glow bathed the concrete city across the bay. Beth curled up on the windowsill. At least there were benefits for being up so early.
“I thought you'd still be asleep when I got back,” she said.
He moved to the opposite corner of the window and leaned his hip against it. “I heard you leave.”
“Sorry about that. I tried to be quiet.”
“I'm a light sleeper.” He broke off a chunk of muffin and offered it to her.
Beth shook her head. “I had a banana in the cafe.”
He looked at her for a long moment. “You didn't eat much at dinner last night.”
Beth looked out at the view and away from his gaze. “Yeah, well, I have a bridesmaid dress to fit into on Sunday.”
“You'll look great,” he said, taking another sip of coffee.
The compliment, even as off-hand as it was, made her blush.
“Thanks.”
He finished the muffin in three bites, and downed the coffee just as fast. There was a casual efficiency to every move he made that was almost hypnotic. He fascinated her, she realized. She liked watching him do even the most mundane things.
But it wasn’t necessarily the best idea to spend too much time getting to know him. She might not know who he was, but she knew who he wasn’t. He wasn't really Charlie Parker, the music executive who lived in a luxury penthouse in Nob Hill. He was some nameless car thief who was up to God only knew what.
Which meant that if she was any kind of smart, she'd get all her looking in now. She didn't have any plans to jump in bed with him, no matter what Isobel said. But looking? That was another matter entirely.
“I'm going to take a shower,” he said, pushing away from the wall. He crumpled the pastry bag and shot it into the wastebasket on the far side of the room.
Good shot. Great one, actually. Beth clapped, and he flashed her the kind of smile that had her holding onto the windowsill for support.
She tried to talk herself out of watching him as he walked across the room, but it was no use. Halfway to the bathroom, he started to lift his shirt. Her eyes fixed on him as he pulled it over his head, revealing a back that was ripped with muscle. Beth couldn't turn away. She couldn't even close her mouth. Her hand dropped limply to her side.
Please turn around. Please turn around.
She repeated the prayer over and over in her mind. She didn’t even care if he caught her gawking.
All right, maybe she would mind a little.
But as it turned out, she didn't have to worry about it. He walked straight into the bathroom without looking back. A moment later she heard the water turn on.
She took another sip of her hazelnut latte. Damn, what she would do to be in there with him. Hey, she needed to shower too, right?
What would he do if she walked in there, stripped out of her clothes and joined him?
Beth laughed. Yeah, right. Like she’d ever have the nerve to do something like that.
She'd be better served by getting ready for her day. She went to the wardrobe and picked out a blouse and skirt. She'd have to shave her legs, and then make it downstairs before everyone else had breakfast. She was meeting up with the rest of the bridesmaids to get their nails done. After that, she'd promised Isobel that she would walk the four blocks to the florist and check on the order for the ceremony.
There wouldn't be time for that long soak in the magnificent tub today. Maybe tonight. This morning she’d have to settle for a quick shower.
Alone.
Beth paused as she was pulling out the pink silk shirt she planned to wear today. All the clothes in the wardrobe were hers. She looked around the room. She didn't see anything that belonged to Charlie. No bags. No suitcases.
She shouldn't pry. She knew she shouldn't. Remember what happened to that curious cat, she reminded herself.
She looked at the bathroom door. It was still shut tight. The water was still running.
One little look around wouldn't hurt anything. What if he was hiding something dangerous in their room? A bomb or something? She had every right to know about that, she figured.
The only other door was the one to the closet.
Just one look.
She rushed over to the door and slid it open. Just a crack. The suit he'd been wearing yesterday hung on the rack. There were two more, just as fine, next to it. There was also a duffle bag on the floor. That was it. Nothing that pointed to who her Charlie really was. But at least she hadn’t found anything dangerous.
Not unless it was in the duffle bag.
She stared at it. It was a plain-looking thing, military green and made out of a thick, well-worn fabric. It had seen some use. Years of it, given the wear around the edges. It was also incredibly out of place next to the Italian suits.
If there was anything real about her Charlie in this hotel room, it was in there.
It was closed up tight, except for one zipper that was undone on the far side.
Beth leaned forward, then stopped herself. She couldn't. It wasn't right. She'd flip out if she caught him going through her personal stuff.
But wasn’t that essentially what he had done by moving her to this room? Someone had to move her things from the first room to here. Someone had to hang her clothes in the wardrobe. He'd arranged all that without asking. If she'd had any secrets, they would have been discovered.
She still couldn't bring herself to do it. Brazenly spying on him just wasn't her style. But if by some accident she happened to sneak a little peek inside, well, that was different.
She let the empty coffee cup in her hand fall to the floor next to the bag.
“Oops,” she said. She bent down, peering into the unzipped compartment. A glint of metal caught the light from the fixture above her.
Beth jetted backward, her paper cup forgotten. Her breath was heavy and fast. She struggled to control it.
She didn't need a closer look to know what was hiding inside the pocket of the duffle bag. She recognized the barrel of a gun when she saw one.
“Are you okay?” a calm voice asked behind her.
Beth shot up to her feet.
Charlie was standing in the doorway of the bathroom. A towel was wrapped around his waist, giving her a clear view of his chiseled bare chest. It was every bit as glorious as she’d hoped it would be, but she didn't spare it a second glance.
“Y-yeah,” she stuttered. “Everything's cool.”
Dear God, she shouldn't have done that. When would she ever learn to listen to that warning voice in her head? She liked it so much better just a few minutes ago. Back when she’d been able to believe the fantasy she'd created about this stranger she was sharing intimate space with. That he was some kind of gentleman thief—more Robin Hood than common criminal.
His eyes went from her to the open closet door. His gaze became guarded. Beth tensed, waiting for what came next.
“What's going o
n?” he asked, his voice even and measured.
“Nothing,” she said too quickly. “I just dropped something.”
“In the closet?”
“I was just poking around the room.” She tried to play it cool, but she couldn't have acted guiltier if she tried. But she was guilty, and that guilt was quickly turning into fear.
He was armed. Maybe heavily. Who knew what else was in that bag? He could have a whole damn armory in there. What in the world was he planning to do with it?
He didn't move away from the door. He just stood there, his eyes steady on her. The seconds crept by in silence, and Beth felt every one of them. She felt the pressure to say something weighing heavy on her shoulders, but there wasn't any explanation she could give. She could ask him what he was planning to do with the gun, but she feared he might answer her.
“Did something happen?” he asked. There was a world of meaning behind that question.
“Nope. Everything’s fine.”
He took a step forward, and she skittered back. He stopped. His grip tightened on his towel, the first sign of tension that she'd seen in him.
“That's right, Beth. Everything is fine.” He said the words slowly. His voice was low. He was trying to calm her down, she realized. She questioned his motivations. Was she really safe, or did he just want to keep her quiet?
After another second, he started for the closet. Beth pressed her back into the wall behind her as he passed. He glanced inside and seemed satisfied that nothing had been touched. He slid the door closed.
“Is there anything you want to ask me?” he said, turning toward her.
Beth shook her head.
“Are you sure?” he asked. He inched forward, but Beth didn't sense any menace in his movements. Still, she remembered the shining barrel of the gun in the closet. People didn't keep those things around for petting puppies.
She forced herself to lift her head and look him in the eye. “I just want to know if everything is going to be all right.”
His shoulders fell a little. It was a convoluted sentiment and yet he seemed to understand her perfectly. He leaned in a little closer, but Beth kept her back pressed against the wall.
“Everything is going to be fine,” he assured her. “You're safe. Your family is safe. Your friends are safe.” He spoke slowly, giving her time to let the words sink in.
She nodded, wanting to believe him for the same strange reason that she’d believed everything he’d said since the moment she met him, even knowing that this time she had every reason not to.
But she did, though not with the same blind trust that she had given before. He hadn't done anything to hurt her. All he’d done was help her. Still, she couldn't help but be wary. She wasn't stupid.
Beth tilted her head to the side, concern rushing back over her. There was one person he hadn’t mentioned.
“Are you safe?” she asked.
The question seemed to throw him. For a brief moment there was a hitch in his relaxed demeanor. Tension flashed in his eyes, though Beth couldn't imagine why.
He shrugged but didn't answer. Beth swallowed past the lump in her throat. No answer was all the answer she needed.
“I guess you still aren’t going to tell me what's really going on here,” she said.
He shook his head slowly. “Good guess.”
Chapter 5
The Wedding Trap Page 8
