“A while. It’s not that. It’s—”
She didn’t do flustered. She was having trouble doing anything else.
He grabbed the coffee cups, went and put them into the sink, then came back and began repacking his backpack with neat, economical movements.
Right. Stalker.
“You need to go to the police,” she said with relief. Back on ground she knew. “Obviously you can handle yourself, but if the person does approach you? You don’t know whether they’re violent, but I’d say they’re showing the signs. If that happens, especially if it’s a woman, and you have to defend yourself, you need this on record.”
“You know a lot about it,” he said, “for a woman who owns a lingerie shop.”
“Oh. I, uh, I heard. A friend. That it happened to.”
Those eyes again, seeing too much. “A friend? Or something else? Is that what the problem is? Your ex? The cop? That would explain a lot.”
She shook her head. “No. Forget me. Really. But do go to the police.”
“I will,” he said. “What you said makes sense. I could also be gratified that you’re worried I’ll take out the stalker instead of the other way around.”
“Of course that’s what I’m worried about. You’re trained. Training almost always wins. You know what they say.”
“No. What do they say?”
“Bad guys can’t shoot for shit.”
He laughed, and she almost jumped. He shook his head, and was still grinning when he said, “Right. How about this? She—he—they want me to come to the gym this afternoon. You could come with me, do a workout. No confrontation. No communication. But a message all the same.”
“Could be provoking,” she said slowly.
“Anything could be provoking.” The laughter was gone. “I’m not hanging about, quaking in my boots, afraid to move. You told me your saying. Now I’ll tell you mine. Take the fight to the enemy. Don’t let it come to you.”
“Without warning.”
“That’s the motto.”
“All right,” she said. “I’m off at five.”
“I’ll collect you at the shop then. We’ll arrive together. Throw them off. Make them wonder.”
It was a workout. It was helping him. That was good. She’d just have to be more careful. About everything.
She stood at the door and watched him go. Broad shoulders. Self-possession. Danger. Too much temptation. And in the distance, her phone rang.
What time was it? Had to be close to nine. She wasn’t showered, she wasn’t dressed, and she hadn’t even begun the transformation into her Lily-body. She’d swear it took her longer than a female impersonator.
She took the stairs as fast as her leg could manage, but by the time she got there, the ringing had stopped. Lily.
She was right. There was a text, though, too, showing on her home screen. From a phone number she didn’t recognize.
One word.
Leave.
“All right,” she said aloud. “That’s creepy.” Which must be how Jace had felt. Creepy, and threatened. This was why cops didn’t go around giving out their cell-phone numbers. Unfortunately, she had Lily’s phone now, and who knew how many people had her number? The grocery store. The gym. The library. Lily’s doctor and dentist. Her bank. Hailey, of course. Whoever else. And now Jace. Brett Hunter, maybe?
And everybody who worked at all those places. If she changed the number, Lily would have to give everybody the new one, so what would be the point? No anonymity at all, not in a town this small.
Phone numbers could be traced, but she’d bet this one was a burner. Nobody would be stupid enough to send a threat from their own cell phone, and this was a threat. She knew it. She felt exposed, like she was sitting with her back to the door, the nape of her neck prickling.
Do one thing. Do the next thing. She called her sister.
“Hey,” Lily said. “How’s it going?”
“Good. Fine. All set to do Day Two at the store all by myself. Getting ready now.”
She’d tried for chirpy, but of course Lily saw through it. “What happened?”
“Nothing happened. Everything’s just fine.” She punched the speaker button, tossed the phone on the bed, untied the apron, and pulled the shirt over her head. She smelled like goat. She hadn’t even thought of that.
Tough guys always seemed to want soft women. Perfumed women. Women like Lily. But Jace hadn’t kissed her while she’d been being Lily.
Except that he had.
“What?” Lily said again. “What did you do?”
Paige sat on the bed, unhooked her bra, pulled off her socks, then wriggled out of her leggings. She wasn’t going to tell Lily about the text. She’d stick to the other part. “I might have kissed somebody. But don’t worry, I made him think I—you—were damaged. So you’re safe. Just, you know, damaged.”
“Do not tell me,” Lily said, the alarm coming through loud and clear. “You kissed Brett Hunter.”
“What? No. Of course not. Why would I do that? I thought we didn’t like Brett Hunter. And by the way—does he have your phone number?”
“I think so. Yes. Early on, when I didn’t realize why he’d asked for it. He doesn’t call, though. He comes by. Like he thinks it’s harder to say ‘no’ in person. Which, of course, it is. And if it isn’t him… Oh. Oh, no.” The dread in Lily’s voice wouldn’t have been overblown if Paige had sold her into marriage to Bigfoot.
“Sorry. I did. I kissed the hairy scowler. Except that he shaved, and let me tell you, he’s no Brett Hunter.”
“I’m going to have to sleep with this guy, aren’t I?” Lily said. “Or break up with him. Paige. He scares me.”
“Nope. First, you don’t have to sleep with anybody. And second, I told you. I explained that I’m too damaged.” Paige gathered up the clothes, went to the bathroom, and stuffed them in the hamper. Being Lily came with a lot of laundry. “How about you? Relaxing?”
“Well, that’s what I called about. And I am not that damaged. What are you making me out to be? I’m never going to be able to show my face again, am I?”
“Sorry. I had to think of something. But go ahead and explain the relaxing.” She pulled out her toothbrush—the one thing that was actually hers—and started the grooming process.
Lily sighed. “OK. I’m ignoring the hit to my reputation. I’m thinking of going somewhere for a few days.”
“Sounds good,” Paige said around the toothbrush. “Where?”
“Sea Ranch. It’s north. On the ocean.”
Paige spat out her toothpaste. “I know where it is.”
“I found a condo I could rent. No internet, and my phone won’t even work most of the time. Not being reachable at all—it’s… it sounds peaceful. What do you think?”
“I think you should go.” Paige pulled down the four bottles that made up Lily’s facial cleansing regimen. Washing your face was apparently not nearly good enough. “You moved on too fast from Antonio, you think? Complicated your life too much?”
“Maybe. Or maybe I just want to be lazy, even after our vacation.”
“Nope. Nobody who wants to be lazy would get goats. Not to mention chickens. Not to mention running a business. Or having so many clothes. Your life is complicated.”
Lily laughed. “All right. I’m going. Back in San Francisco on Thursday. I’ll know you’re at the meeting, but I won’t be able to do anything about it, so I’ll have to go for a walk instead.”
“Sounds perfect.”
“See you in a week, then. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
Paige hung up, then looked at the text again.
Leave.
Pressuring Lily, because Lily looked like she could be pressured. Well, Paige could fix that, and Lily could come back. Meanwhile, she’d help Jace discourage his stalker.
You had to be who you were. She might not have a real job to do, but she could do this.
You could say that Lily confused him. She’d
wanted him to kiss her. She’d wanted more than that. You couldn’t miss those signals. So why had she pulled back?
Because she had issues, that was why. The last thing he needed was a woman with issues. He had enough issues for two. He’d get Lily’s help in sending a not-interested message to his mystery admirer, and after that? Since he’d clearly arrived back in the land of the living, he’d find himself a cool, competent brunette who wasn’t in the market for a Meaningful Relationship. He’d forget the skittish blonde goatherds whose whole life said, “Traditional!” and look for his bloody type.
He set it aside, went for a run to clear his head and work out some of the tension in his supercharged body, then hopped into the ute with Tobias and headed down the mountain toward the police station. He felt like a wanker doing it, but Lily had been right. If he had to deal with his stalker, it might not end up looking good.
How did she know so much about stalkers? And what woman would sit in her kitchen, listen to a man saying, “I was a killer,” and decide on another cup of coffee instead of sprinting for the door?
No woman he knew.
Because she’d had a boyfriend who was a cop? Because she was attracted to dangerous men?
Yes. Or no. Attracted, but not enough.
His visit to the police station didn’t exactly ease his mind. The cop, whose name tag proclaimed him to be Sergeant Worthington, didn’t look nearly as impressed with the evidence as Lily had. “You say you write books, sir,” he said, eyeing the blindfold, thong, and printouts of the pictures with what Jace could swear was a not-entirely-professional eye. “Successful books?”
Jace leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. He didn’t care for this bloke’s tone. He’d figured the cops would laugh at a man being stalked, and he’d been right. “Yeah.”
“Uh-huh. This kind of thing ever happen before?” The sergeant rifled through the pictures again. “Women soliciting you?”
“Yes. Of course. Emails, invitations to meet them. Which I ignore,” he added, in case the cop was under the impression he was a dipstick.
“Sure about that?” Worthington asked, looking up from the printouts with what was apparently meant to be a keen stare. “Even if they send pictures like this?”
“You’re joking. Yeah, I get nudes. Sometimes including names and phone numbers. Why a woman would do that, I have no idea. Some women write to serial killers, too. And if I wanted to have dodgy sex with some girl who’s probably mad as a meat axe, I’d give them a ring. But as I don’t, I don’t. And this time? These things were sent to my home. Not just sent. Delivered.”
He could tell the cop wanted to say, Sounds like a problem worth having. At least he restrained himself that much. “Joined any online dating sites recently?” he asked instead. “Been swiping right, picking up women in bars? I wouldn’t call this a dedicated reader wanting to do her book report on you. I’d call it a love affair gone wrong, or a hookup who’s decided you’re her prince. There are some crazies out there.”
“Thanks,” Jace said. “That’s helpful. And no. I was married until I bought my house here six months ago. It’s not my ex, and I haven’t been involved with anyone since.”
The cop looked at him with a jaundiced eye. Yeah, right, he didn’t have to say. “Sure about the ex? When it comes to crazy women, the ex is the craziest every time.”
“She’s not in the area, and she’s got somebody new anyway.” And she wouldn’t care enough. “It’s not her.”
“Then it sure looks like somebody you didn’t call back. I’d suggest you think harder. A woman stalking a stranger? I’m not saying it’s impossible, but I’ve never heard of it.”
“I’ve heard of it,” Jace said, standing up. “Because I did some research. I recommend it. You can believe me or not. Doesn’t matter to me. I don’t know what you could do anyway. But in case she comes after me again or takes this further, I want it on the record.” In case I have to hurt her, he didn’t say. Lily had got that. Why couldn’t this drongo?
“Sir,” the cop said with a patience that rubbed at Jace’s already-abused nerves, “we’re here to help. Unfortunately, we don’t have the resources to protect you at all times against this person. Please report any further attempts to contact you, and if you do discover her identity, call and tell us. I’d strongly suggest applying for an Order of Protection if that happens. You can get the form online, and there’s no cost to you in a case of stalking.”
“Yeah,” Jace said. “That works a treat, I’m sure. If she comes after me, I’ll wave my bit of paper at her. If you want all that lot, the undies and letters, you can keep it. If you don’t, chuck it. I took photos, and I’m not having it in my house.”
He walked out feeling less than cheerful. And when he got Lily’s text, less cheerful than that.
I’m heading out to the lake with Brett Hunter after I close, she’d written. Pick me up at 6 instead?
Who the hell was Brett Hunter? And what had been going on with her “I’m so scared” performance this morning? Had it all been an act?
No question. He needed that cool brunette.
He thought about cancelling, of course. But he didn’t. He and Lily were both clear that there was nothing between them, and she was the only one other than Sergeant Worthless who knew about his stalker. He might regret sharing that with her, but he’d done it. Which made her the perfect person to help him.
At six o’clock, he parked outside her shop, approached, and knocked twice. The lights were on, but the sign on the door was flipped to Closed, and the door was locked. And Lily was standing by the till with the bloke who’d been in the day before. The one she’d dismissed the same way she’d dismissed Jace.
It’s a free country, she’d said to him, and I haven’t banned you. Yet. But my answer will still be the same.
Her answer hadn’t been the same, though, because here the bastard was again, standing by the counter in his black trousers and his perfect hair, chatting Lily up. After he’d taken her to the lake, because this had to be Brett Hunter.
Lily came to the door, turned the lock, and let Jace inside with a “Hi.” She looked pleased to see him, he’d swear. If she were one of those women who wanted men to fight over her, though, she’d have to look someplace else.
Then why are you here? And why are your arms folded?
Habit, that was all. “Evening,” he said to the suave bloke, who looked as amused as he had yesterday, like he loved playing games with blondes. Probably true.
“Brett Hunter,” the bloke said, extending his hand. “Good to meet you.”
“Jace Blackstone.” Jace measured the force of Hunter’s handshake. Not over the top, which unfortunately meant that Jace wasn’t allowed to crush his hand.
Hunter turned to Lily and said, “I’ll leave you with that. Thanks for giving me a chance to make my pitch. I’d be happy to discuss it again. Over dinner?”
“I’m busy tonight,” she said. “I’ll let you know. But if I say no—my no means no, and that’s it.”
Hunter lost not one bit of his good humor. “Of course it does. I can hardly force you, can I? But you can’t blame me for trying.” He glanced at Jace again and said, “Good to meet you.”
Jace could swear Hunter was contemplating putting his hands on Lily and kissing her cheek. If he did, he was going to get blocked. At a minimum. Before it could happen—any of it—Lily put out her hand, said, “Thank you,” shook Hunter’s once, dropped it, and said, “I’ll let you out.”
After she did, she turned from the door and asked Jace, “Ready to go?” And then she looked at him more closely and her expression changed. She still had one hand on the door handle, but now, she removed it, squared off to him, and said, “Whatever that’s about, I’m telling myself that unless you’re actually insane, you’d have killed me at my nice remote cabin in the woods instead of waiting until you’re in full view of Main Street. You had a dog this morning. I’ll bet you had a weapon, too.”
“What?” He
stared at her, then started to smile. “Bloody hell, but you’re aggravating. I wasn’t going to kill you. I was just jealous of your new boyfriend. And of course I had a weapon. I always have a weapon.”
She took in his gym shorts, T-shirt, and trainers, then gave him a slow, sweet smile. After that, she put a hand on the skirt of her dress and pulled the hem up a bare inch, like that would excite him. A simpler dress today, a green thing printed with flowers, with a button front and a little flash of calf and knee at the bottom, which was pretty but not nearly as fantasy-worthy as the one you could see through.
He changed his mind in the next moment, because she shook her hair back, dropped her left hand casually onto the top button of her dress, and slowly unfastened it. The V-shaped neckline wasn’t all that high, and just like that, Jace was looking at pale cleavage.
“Threat assessment?” she asked sweetly.
“Uh… what?”
She popped another button, the dress gapped some more, and more cleavage came into view, along with some black lace. Some sheer black lace. At the same time, her right hand began inching her skirt up higher.
Bloody hell. She had her fingers on that third button, and he got a flash of her velvet-curtained dressing room and thought, Oh, hell, yeah. Right up against the wall. Her cheek resting on her raised forearm, her breath coming loud as he hauled her hips in from behind. That would do it. Her skirt was all the way up her thigh, and he was looking at more black lace. A black garter, in fact, all six inches wide of it.
He took a step toward her, and she pulled the skirt up another few inches and said, “How about now?”
He stopped. A strip of black lace running up her thigh, the kind of garter belt you dreamed about. She’d raised that skirt all the way up, and if she was wearing anything else under there, he couldn’t see it.
Unfortunately, there was a business-sized revolver stuck into that garter belt. Which was a thigh holster.
“I win,” she said, letting her skirt fall. “So you know.” Then she smiled at him again. “Want to go to the gym?”
Guilty as Sin (Sinful, Montana Book 1) Page 12
