Unexpected Temptation
Samantha Hunter
Name: Luke BerringerTrademark: Single-minded determination…Biggest weakness: A sweet ‘n’ sexy gal who drives him to distraction!Luke Berringer used to have everything—money, status. And just like that, he lost it all. Now a bodyguard for Berringer Security, he’s determined to track down the woman responsible for ruining his life. But when he finally catches up with Vanessa Grant, he’s in for one heck of a surprise….Vanessa is no con artist. It's a case of mistaken identity, and worse for Luke, the woman has a hidden sensuality that he can’t resist. With her life in jeopardy, Luke must protect an innocent woman, track down a guilty one…and determine if maybe the “wrong woman” isn’t really the right one after all!
Berringer Bodyguards File #4
Name: Luke Berringer
Trademark: Single-minded determination…
Biggest weakness: A sweet ’n’ sexy gal who drives him to distraction!
Luke Berringer used to have everything—money, status. And just like that, he lost it all. Now a bodyguard for Berringer Security, he’s determined to track down the woman responsible for ruining his life. But when he finally catches up with Vanessa Grant, he’s in for one heck of a surprise….
Vanessa is no con artist. It’s a case of mistaken identity, and worse for Luke, the woman has a hidden sensuality that he can’t resist. With her life in jeopardy, Luke must protect an innocent woman, track down a guilty one…and determine if maybe the “wrong woman” isn’t really the right one, after all!
“Are you for real?” Luke asked, transfixed.
He dipped down to capture Vanessa’s mouth with his.
She moaned, the sound reverberating as she wound her arms around him.
“That’s definitely real,” she whispered.
Luke knew that this was a bad decision, but she was sweet in his arms. Her kiss as hot and insistent as his.
“Vanessa.” His voice was rough, objections buried somewhere under the hot need that was taking over as he studied the pink lips that begged for a taste.
“We shouldn’t,” he said, trying one more time to do the right thing. There was no way he could walk away and leave her alone right now. But there was also no way he could stay without having her….
Dear Reader,
Luke Berringer. Many of you have written asking for his book, and here it is—and what an adventure he’s about to have with his heroine! If you read the epilogue at the end of His Kind of Trouble, you’ll know the explosive way these two met (and if you didn’t, go do that, right now!).
Luke, of course, lost everything when a woman he was involved with brought his whole world down around him. After years of searching for her—and for revenge—what he’s found is far more unexpected. Vanessa understands what it means to spend your life searching for something—she’s spent almost all of hers looking for her long-lost siblings. Now she’s found Luke along the way. Hand in hand, they’re not alone in their searches anymore. But what happens when the search is over—can they both get what they’ve wanted for so long? Maybe, especially when what they most want is each other.
So, this is the final Berringer Bodyguards book—but if this is the first one you’ve read, maybe you’ll enjoy going back to read about Luke’s bodyguard cousins, who all have their own stories. If you want to chat about Blaze, Berringers or bodyguards, you can find me on Twitter or Facebook, or email me at samhunter@samanthahunter.com.
Enjoy!
Samantha Hunter
Unexpected Temptation
Samantha Hunter
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Samantha Hunter lives in Syracuse, New York, where she writes full-time for Mills & Boon. When she’s not plotting her next story, Sam likes to work in her garden, quilt, cook, read and spend time with her husband and their dogs. Most days you can find Sam chatting on the Mills & Boon Blaze boards at www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk), or you can check out what’s new, enter contests or drop her a note at her website, www.samanthahunter.com (http://www.samanthahunter.com).
For Blaze author Cara Summers, whom we all lost
in September 2013. She walked me through
my first Blaze a decade ago, and was a friend
and colleague years before that. She’s been
a part of every Blaze I’ve written, and that
will always be true. Thanks so much, Carolyn.
Contents
Chapter 1 (#u0b05ade6-1749-5849-ae41-8bcdd9ed5769)
Chapter 2 (#uac64524b-7593-5999-b857-f53221c2430f)
Chapter 3 (#u21de9d6f-5704-5a12-9db6-49119e0f8aac)
Chapter 4 (#u693f8fac-0926-55a4-bcbd-e26c51aedc3b)
Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)
Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)
1
LUKE BERRINGER STARED through the bars of the adjoined jail cell at one of the most beautiful women he’d ever known. If he hadn’t been at her house that afternoon right before it had blown up, and if he hadn’t found her in time, neither one of them would be standing here now, waiting for the police to sort it all out.
But he had been there, and now they were both holed up in jail, since she kept insisting that he was a stranger and that she was someone else. She was playing the innocent—the victim—when in truth, Nicole Brooks was anything but innocent. He’d prove that if it was the last thing he did.
Luke looked at his watch again—except it wasn’t on his arm. It was in a property bag being held by the police until he was released, which should be any minute now.
His cousins, the other members of Berringer Bodyguards, should get him out of here soon.
Nicky might not be as lucky, he thought, watching her pace next door.
There were a few subtle differences between Nicky and her new identity, Vanessa Grant. Most people wouldn’t notice.
Luke noticed, but he could still see the real Nicky underneath Vanessa’s softer persona.
“I have to say, I like this look on you. But a schoolteacher, Nicky? You never cared for kids—this score must be really something for you to put on this kind of performance day in and out.”
She turned on him.
“Stop. Calling. Me. Nicky.”
“The cat will soon be out of the bag, why pretend? You might as well get used to these accommodations. You could be here for a while.”
She shook her head and made a small, feral growling sound before she walked to the bars, curled her hands around them very tightly and looked at him hard.
“The way I see it, Mr. Berringer, if that’s even your real name, you’re behind bars, too. At least I’m here as a victim. It’s you they’re investigating. Convenient that you happened to be there right before the place blew. That you knew exactly how much explosive was in the house, what kind and that it would go off right at that second. But why? That’s what I want to know. Why would you want to kill me? I don’t even know you.”
Luke vaulted across the cell, his hands curling over hers, holding her there as she tried to pull away.
“Oh, you know me. You know me very well. Intimately, even. The same way I know you. I know how you feel, how you taste and how you cry out when you—”
“Stop!” she spat, and pulled her hands free. “You know nothing about me, especially not that.”
Her eyes flashed, cheeks blooming with color as she heaved breaths, drawing his attention to the fit of her blouse.
“Had a little work done there, too, hmm? You look...smaller on top.”
Her eyes widened in disbelief. He laughed.
“Still very nice, but you know, less showy. I guess you’d want to draw less attention in your new position. Apparently, it didn’t work, since someone wanted you to go boom right along with your house. I saved your life. That’s one fact you left out. Believe me, after the evidence I handed over to the detective, you’re the one in trouble here, sweetheart. And I couldn’t be happier about it.”
Her expression changed and gone was the fierce, angry woman. In her place was a shaken, clearly exhausted one who faced him with eyes full of tears.
“Why are you doing this? You did save my life, but you act like you hate me. And you don’t even know me. You clearly have me confused with someone else. This Nicky person, whoever she is.”
Luke felt a pinch of sympathy—and a fleeting moment of doubt—before he capped it off. Nicky was an expert at manipulating emotions, hers and others’, with precision. It was why she was such a good con artist and thief.
“I don’t hate you. I want you to pay for what you’ve done. To me, and to others. Innocents.”
She looked at him, pensive, wiping the tears away.
“What is it exactly that you think I’ve done?”
So this was the game she wanted to play? Fine. He had nothing better to do at the moment. Sitting down on the bare-bones cot on the other side of the cell, he took a deep breath before speaking.
“You stole very sensitive computer code, obviously with the intention of selling it to the highest bidder. I have to figure that plan fell through, since you’re here in Florida, trying to make another score. Also, the programming has never surfaced since.”
He paused before continuing. “You slept with me and almost convinced me that we had something. Enough of something that I didn’t watch you as closely as I should have. You took advantage of that and of me. You set me up, and you set up Marcus Yates, who killed himself after I accused him of being the thief. So, we’re both guilty, Nic. You and I both caused someone else to take his own life. But you were the one who orchestrated it all, and you don’t get to walk away from that.”
The words came out calmly, smoothly, and she listened, transfixed.
“That’s awful, but I never did any of those things. I’ve been a teacher here for eight years. I’ve never even met you let alone slept with you, and—”
He put a hand up. “Please. I really don’t want to hear it. You played me once, shame on you. If I let you play me again, well, you know how that goes.”
Luke was suddenly tired. He closed his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. He didn’t want to play the game anymore. He wanted this to be done.
She didn’t say anything else, and he started to drift off into a mental fog when a noise had him bolting upright. The detective was unlocking his cell.
“Mr. Berringer, you’re free to go.”
“What? Are you kidding me? He’s probably the one who tried to blow up my house!” Nicky exclaimed.
“No evidence of that, Ms. Grant. In fact, Mr. Berringer is a bona fide bodyguard—professional security—and he did save you. We’re just waiting on a few confirmations concerning your statement and then we’ll let you out, too.”
“But—”
Luke smiled, suddenly reenergized as he headed out of the station. Nicky was still looking at him as if she couldn’t believe it.
He waved smartly to her before he left and grinned at the outraged look she gave him. She was gripping the bars so tightly he could see her white knuckles from a distance.
Tough.
He had no doubt that the police would find that none of her story was true, and she wouldn’t be out anytime soon. Luke would be happy to testify at her trial.
Finally. Justice.
His phone rang as he proceeded down the long hall to the exit. It was his cousin, Garrett, calling to check in. Luke made his way out into the parking lot in front of Tampa Police Headquarters, filling his cousin in on what had happened.
People passing by slid wary looks in his direction, and he couldn’t blame them. He was dirty, scraped up and reeked of smoke and sweat. None of that was important.
“Garrett.”
“Luke. So, they spring you yet?”
“Yeah. Thanks for the speedy response.”
“Sure. Though Jonas thought we should let you simmer in there for a day or two, for kicks.”
“Funny. Did you find anything?”
Luke had his cousins do the background research on Vanessa Grant. It was likely that she had developed a sturdy fake background, maybe even one that the police couldn’t break through. Garrett would dig deeper.
“Sorry, Luke. You’re not going to want to hear this, but Vanessa Grant looks legit—work history, fingerprints, adoption certificate, all match her picture. She was in the foster system for seven years, then adopted, graduated high school, went on to college. It’s all here. I’ll give you that she does look a lot like Nicole Brooks, but she was a new teacher back when you were with Nicky. They have school year photos that show her in them at the time. It’s not her.”
Luke paused and closed his eyes. Could it be possible? Was this some kind of mix-up? No. He’d seen her. Close up. He knew.
“Gar, how many elementary teachers do you know who are targeted with several bricks of explosives? Obviously, someone other than me is after her, and there has to be a reason for that.”
“Well, you have a point there. Still, if this is a cover, it’s one of the best I’ve ever seen. She’s living out in plain sight, not trying to hide anything, and it has been the case for over a decade.”
“That does sound airtight,” Luke said, trying to figure out how Nicole could have made this happen. There was no way even she could be in two places at the same time. An accomplice? Had she reeled in another innocent to help her accomplish her plans?
That was possible. It was possible that Vanessa Grant was being used by Nicole all this time and never knew it. Perhaps now, Nicky was done with her, or considered her a threat. A loose end.
It would explain why someone wanted to blow her up. That meant she was still in danger. He ran the theories by Garrett.
“That’s possible. So what are you going to do?”
“I’m not sure. Wait. Follow her. See what happens. If she’s Nicole, she’ll slip up. If she’s not, the people who are after her will make another play, I imagine. Then I can find out who they are and maybe find Nicky in the process.”
“Be careful, Luke.... This job is hard enough when we know where the threats are coming from.”
“Gotcha. I’ll be in touch,” he said, ending the call.
Luke knew his cousins still had some doubts about if he was over his past troubles yet. He was. Mostly.
He’d once ruled the tech world, owned a massively successful software company and had more money than he’d ever need—until everything had fallen apart, thanks to Nicky. He didn’t miss the work or the wealth. It had taken Luke a long time to get his head on straight, but he’d done it. He liked his life now, and he enjoyed working with his cousins.
But he needed to do this one, final thing to really be able to move on with his future.
He needed to bring Nicky to justice—and that was even more the case if she had put yet another innocent in the line of fire. Whether Vanessa Grant was really innocent or not, he still had to find out for sure.
* * *
VANESSA STARED AT the dingy cell wall. Every bone in her body ached, and she was dirty and tired. They kept saying she could leave soon, but she’d been here all day. Probably because of Luke Berringer, who was now free as a bird while she was still locked up like a criminal. It made no sense.
It was all very unreal and dreamlike, except for the scrapes and bruises she received from being pushed out of the way of the explosion by Berringer. He was clearly deranged, pursuing some imaginary woman who had ruined his life. Yet the police had let him out the door. A bodyguard? She couldn’t believe it.
But then again, she’d read an article once about people with “hero complexes” who would stage a disaster so that they could save someone and get attention. However, this man didn’t want her thanks; he was trying to get her arrested. He said they’d been intimate.
She wrapped her arms around her middle to repress a shiver. He was a very good-looking man, but how he looked at her had been far too personal for her comfort. The things he said to her were also inappropriate, at the very least.
Vanessa turned her thoughts to the practical. In spite of her entire life blowing up, she had classes to prepare and errands to run. She had to attend the new teacher and student orientation that evening. Only two hours from now. She needed a shower and new clothes. She hadn’t died in the explosion, and she wanted to go on with her life. That was a healthy attitude, right?
She started to shake all over again when she realized she couldn’t take a shower. She didn’t have a shower anymore. Her pretty new shower—that she had retiled herself last summer—was in scattered bits around her lawn. She had no home, no...anything.
She had nothing but the clothes on her back and what was inside her purse. And her car. She’d been taken down to police headquarters after the EMTs had checked her out, and she wondered if anything much was left of her car, as it had been in the driveway right next to her house.
The small cell spun a bit, and she lowered herself to the cot. Where would she go? She couldn’t afford a hotel, not for more than a night or two. How long would it take the insurance to help her with her house? Her car? Did they even cover a bombing? Would they pay for a place for her to stay?
She’d have to call her family and do a million other things that she couldn’t even think about right now. She just had to get out of here.
She was so overwhelmed. To onlookers, she could only imagine they thought she was catatonic. She took a deep breath, trying to focus.
“Hey, are you doing okay?” the detective asked as he approached the cell. “I’m sorry this took so long, but we had to make sure, the way you two were both accusing each other.”
He opened the cell, gestured for her to follow. Vanessa hesitated. Where would she go when she left?
She straightened her back and exited the cell. The detective was a nice, older man with kind eyes that were weathered by having seen too much over what she assumed was a long career. He put a light hand on her shoulder, and she nearly jumped out of her skin, turning on him and moving to grab his hand in a defensive reflex.
Her adopted dad had taught her how to defend herself so that she could feel safe wherever she went. She hadn’t practiced her self-defense in years, not formally, but her instincts still kicked in when she needed them. When she felt threatened.
Her difficult childhood—being moved from house to house, one state facility to another—had trained her to be hyperaware. It was how she survived, but it was also a habit that never quite wore off. Being touched by a stranger, even a well-meaning one, was unwelcome.
“I’m sorry,” she said, pulling her hand back. “I’m really on edge.”
“I can understand that. You’ve been through a shock today,” the detective said patiently. “Just to be clear on the details, you said you had a few small incidents recently? Some harassment? Did you report it?”
She’d already written all of this in her statement, but took a breath and responded.
“No. There were a few weird phone calls, that kind of thing. But nothing like this. I thought the calls were a crank.”
“Okay. Would you mind if we took a look at your phone records? We need your permission for that.”
“That’s fine.”
She had nothing to hide.
“Thank you. That should wrap things up. Do you have a place to stay tonight?”
“I’ll work something out.”
The set of the detective’s mouth was grim.
“Considering the circumstances, we should probably put you in protective custody for at least a few nights, until we can track down who planted the explosives. And why.”
“I can’t do that. I’ve lost...everything. But I still have a job I’d like to keep. My administrators are expecting me to run sessions for new teachers and students before classes begin in two weeks. I have to get my lessons in order, send letters to parents...there’s so much to do. I can’t hide away.”
“I think they’d understand, given the situation.”
“No, thanks. I’m sure this was some kind of mistake. No one is after me. They’d have no reason. I don’t want to be in protective custody. I don’t want to be in any...custody.” She gripped her suddenly shaking hands together. “Anyway, how do you know that Luke Berringer didn’t do it? How can you be sure?”
“I can assure you, he’s been cleared as a suspect,” the detective said. He didn’t volunteer more than that.
“Why was he hanging outside my house if he had nothing to do with it?”
“He simply mistook you for someone else. We checked out his credentials and references. He was head of a major software company, and now he’s a professional bodyguard with a notable firm up in Philly,” the detective explained. “He has no criminal record and was there to talk to you about another matter. He recognized what he saw through the window. He acted fast. It might seem funny to say so, but I think it was your lucky day, Miss Grant. If he hadn’t mistaken you, you’d be dead right now.”
Lucky. Right.
“Do you know why he was looking for me? Or the person he thought was me?”
“You’d have to ask him.”
Vanessa frowned, remembering how tall Berringer was, how strong. His hands on her arms had been tight, hard. When they had jumped away from the porch, knocked over by the power of the blast, he’d cushioned her fall with his body. He was solid all over. At the time, she’d been in shock, and thankful. Huddled close to him on the sidewalk, for a moment, his big body enclosed around her, she’d felt safe.
She hadn’t felt safe seconds later, when he’d looked at her through cold, green eyes that were filled with loathing.
Who would loathe her?
“All right. If you’re sure.”
She stood, her skin suddenly crawling with the need to be out of the building. Free.
Simply being in the police station made her anxious. She’d been brought in a few times as a kid when she’d run away from her foster homes. The police were always nice to her, but it didn’t help because she knew they would deliver her back where she didn’t want to go.
It had gotten worse after she was separated from her sister and brother. She hadn’t seen Julie since they were split up as young children. No one wanted to foster or adopt all three of them at once. Eventually, they had all been lost in the system.
Vanessa had never been able to track down her siblings, but she hadn’t given up, ever. She’d even asked the police for help a few times, getting hold of various records to try to find her brother and sister.
Being here was triggering all of the old fears and paranoia she’d had as a child about moving from one home to another. At least until she’d found her new family when she was twelve. If not for them, who knew how she might have ended up? The Grants had adopted her, offered her guidance, stability and a real home. What had happened to Julie and Max? Her heart broke when she thought of them.
“Would you at least let us know where you go? Do you have any family or friends, or will you go to a hotel?”
“There’s no one here,” she said. She wasn’t about to drag her family into this mess.
Her parents had moved from Florida to the north, retiring in Vermont where they were close to other family members. If they knew all of this, they’d be so worried; she had to call them first thing to let them know she was okay, in case they saw a report on the news.
“You have my cell number if you need to contact me. Thank you for everything,” she told the detective with a polite smile as she eyed the exit.
2
LUKE SAT on the steps of the police station entrance, waiting for Nicky to emerge.
Maybe Garrett and the police were right, but Luke had to know for sure. If he was right, he had finally put the past to rest. If the police were right, he had a second chance to make sure that Nicky didn’t take the life of another unsuspecting person. He could make a difference this time.
Then he saw her. She must have left via the side door. Trying to avoid him?
Either way, the police had let her go, so her story had to have held up. He watched her from a distance; she had no idea he was there.
She was still as beautiful as ever. Even with her plain-Jane, no-frills, elementary-school teacher persona, she couldn’t hide her natural beauty. She might actually be more attractive than the glamorous high-roller he’d known six years before. Softer and more vulnerable, she didn’t look dangerous at all. But Luke knew better.
Her chestnut hair was still long and thick, no highlights this time, but the color was the same. Luke remembered what it was like to bury his face in it. What it felt like to wrap it around his fingers as he kissed her. He knew what every inch of Nicky felt like. Seeing her had brought it all back. Arousal coiled down deep in his belly until he reminded himself what was behind the beauty.
Lies were the least of it.
She paced, looking wary and defeated, as well she should be. Apparently, Luke wasn’t the only one after her. In fact, if she was a victim here, the police shouldn’t have let her leave the station.
He made a judgment call and stood from the steps.
“Nicky... I mean, Vanessa,” he called out, wanting to sound less threatening than he had earlier as he closed the space between them.
She pulled her purse up close to her, as if putting it between them would stop him. He’d grant her, if she was faking, she should win an award.
“Y-yes?” she asked, peering at other people around them, making sure they weren’t alone.
He could almost believe that she was afraid of him.
“Listen, I wanted to apologize. I’m sorry I was unfriendly earlier. I don’t know if the police explained, but I thought you were someone else,” he said, modulating his tone, adding a bit of a smile. “I’m sorry about that. I behaved...badly.”
“Yes, well, thanks.” Her words were clipped, her eyes still wary.
“You’ve had a long day. A hard one. I only added to that, and I hope you’ll let me make it up to you. Maybe I could buy you dinner or something. Or at least give you a ride. I think your car was impounded as evidence.”
“Thank you, but I called a cab. It should be here any minute. They are releasing my car tomorrow, after they’re done with it. Thanks for the apology, and for...saving my life. I don’t mean to be rude, but I really have to go.”
She frowned as she saw the taxi approaching, and then drive on by, pulling up to the curb ahead of them. She started walking in that direction. Luke took a step after her, his hand on her arm. Before he knew it, she’d turned, neatly grabbing him and twisting his arm behind him.
It was nothing to him, though he was momentarily surprised. He’d spent enough time practicing various fighting styles that he easily slipped her grasp and tightened his around her, her arms immobilized as he trapped her against him.
“So, you didn’t forget everything I taught you,” he said against her ear.
“What? I don’t know what—”
“Stop it, okay? It’s me. Do me the favor of dropping the act when no one else is listening.”
He twisted her around to face him, and he was surprised to see her hand shake as she lifted it to her face.
“You really are crazy, aren’t you?” She backed away, her eyes darted to where the taxi driver waited, hitting the horn once. “You stay away from me.”
She was going to push this all the way. Fine.
Luke pressed in close, and her eyes widened. He’d always loved her eyes.
“Let’s see if I can jog your memory a different way.”
The kiss wasn’t meant to be kind or even sexy, but once he felt her against him, intention went out the window.
He held her to him until she relaxed, opened and started kissing him back. Blood rushed in his veins as he went deeper. He was hard, too, and he let her know it. She moaned into him as he pressed against her.
But as delicious as she was, he had a purpose. He paused only long enough to trail kisses down her neck. With his hand, he pulled the shoulder of her blouse away, nipping the soft skin there.
As he kissed her, he looked down at the curve of her shoulder blade.
Nothing.
To be sure, he slid his hand inside, felt her shudder against him. His astonishment cooled his ardor; his arousal and his anger were squelched by confusion.
It was pause enough for her to come to her senses, too, and she pushed away. He let her go, still shocked.
It wasn’t there. No tattoo, no scar or indication that anything had been removed. There was a small mole in the spot where the tattoo once was—something that could not be faked.
Turning back, he looked at her in confusion, and she looked back at him the same way. Her cheeks were flushed, lips bruised, hair a mess, her shirt still pulled from her shoulder. He wanted to kiss her again but shut down the impulse. She put her hand to her mouth.
“Oh, no!” she said, seeing the taxi leave.
His eyes traveled to a small spot on her chest, and he saw a cluster of freckles decorating the creamy skin above her left breast. Birthmark.
Nicky had no moles, no imperfections. No birthmarks. She never would have allowed them.
Vanessa bit her nails. Not terribly, but enough so that she didn’t have Nicky’s neatly manicured hands. It looked like a habit she’d had for a while. Luke had missed that in the jail cell.
This wasn’t her. It really wasn’t Nicky.
Shame and guilt gutted him as he looked at her. Luke started to speak, but she smothered some strangled sound and fled.
He couldn’t blame her, but neither could he let her go.
“Vanessa, wait,” he called after her.
He had to make sure that she was okay after what he’d done. She hailed another cab, running out into traffic to do so, and Luke didn’t catch her before she slammed the door shut and the car raced away.
He didn’t plan to let her off the hook yet. While she might not be Nicky—a realization that he was still dealing with—there was something going on. She was connected to Nicky somehow. That the two women looked so much alike couldn’t be sheer coincidence.
Luke hailed the next cab and paid the guy extra to step on it. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who thought that Vanessa Grant was really Nicole Brooks, and whoever else was after her wanted her dead. He owed it to her not to let that happen.
* * *
VANESSA WALKED into the hotel room and breathed a sigh of relief. It was pretty nice, and it even had a view of the Gulf of Mexico. Luckily, it was midsummer, which was not tourist season in Florida, so the hotels were not full and the rates were low. In the cab, she’d made some phone calls and verified with her insurance that they would cover an apartment or room rental for her until her house was assessed and rebuilt. Until then, this would do.
She’d also called the detective who said her car would now be caught up in evidence for a while, so she had to rent one through the hotel. Hopefully, she could get her car back sooner than later.
She’d picked up some inexpensive clothes at a store close to the hotel and had treated herself to her favorite seafood takeout.
She was starving.
A shower and getting dressed would have to wait—she still had some time before she had to be at the school. Digging into the delectable fried shrimp, potatoes and a side salad, Vanessa nearly moaned at how good it all tasted. Maybe it was true—a near-death experience made everything sweeter and more intense.
Like that kiss with Luke Berringer?
That had been intense. Strange, unexpected, a bit scary and the best kiss she’d ever had. Too bad it was with a crazy stalker man.
Not that she’d had tons of kisses, but she did her share of dating, and that man kissed like his life depended on it. Vanessa had responded simply because it felt so good. It shouldn’t have, but it did.
Still, what decent, sane man kissed a woman he didn’t know in the middle of a parking lot?
It was a keen reminder that this man, no matter what his credentials were, was not okay. Something was very wrong there, whether he had anything to do with the bombing or not. She wondered if she shouldn’t call the detective back and let him know what happened.
Though it would be hard to explain why she’d let him kiss her until things started getting too heated. Was there such a thing as post-traumatic kissing?
No, she’d keep it to herself, unless he came around again. If that happened, she would have to report him and hopefully the police would listen this time.
Finishing off her dinner, she headed for the shower, emerging refreshed and more energized. Until she looked in the mirror. Several small scratches covered her skin on her face and neck, and she had a dark bruise on her left shoulder and a smaller one on her chin. Her eye was lightly purple at the edge. How was she going to explain that?
After she was dressed, she stood at the table by the window to pick up her bag. She paused as something moved in the corner of her vision.
Looking down through a crack in the curtain, she saw him—or at least, she saw something. Someone. Was someone down there, watching her?
Shivers ran over her skin, and she yanked the curtains shut, suddenly afraid to leave the room. What if it was Luke Berringer, following her? How could he have? What if it was the person who tried to blow her up?
Or what, her sanity challenged, if it was simply an employee or guest of the hotel out for a smoke?
Forcing herself to breathe more normally, she gathered up her things and left. The clerk had the rental keys and told her where her car was parked. No one was in the lot except for a valet who had no customers, so he was sweeping the front entrance. Nothing to fear.
She relaxed slightly, determined to leave the events of the day behind her temporarily. She would have to tell the school, of course, and let them know what was going on, her new address and so forth. But for a few hours, she could return to her normal life. She craved that more than anything.
As soon as she arrived at the school, Vanessa realized it was not going to happen. The second she entered the lot, a news reporter approached the car and a camera flashed in her eyes.
“What—what are you doing?”
“Ms. Grant, can you tell us why there was an attempt on your life? Do you think you should be here? Aren’t you endangering the children here at the school?”
Vanessa gaped in the face of the questions, shocked and wordless. Two of her teacher friends, Donna and Juanita, hurried her into the school, leaving the reporters behind.
“Oh, honey, we’ve been so worried!” Donna said, pulling her into a hug and no sooner did she let go than Juanita did the same.
“Where have you been? We’ve been calling and calling,” Juanita asked.
“I—I guess you know then...what happened.”
The two women looked at her as if she were crazy.
“Vanessa, what happened today is the biggest story in the local news. Everyone knows. It might even have gone national. It’s not every day a person’s house gets blown up and they barely escape it,” Donna said, putting a calming hand on her arm. “Someone taped it on their phone, and it showed a guy pushing you out of the way—who was he? He was hot.”
Vanessa shook her head.
“Of course it would be news. I guess I wasn’t thinking.”
“You’re confused. You should be at the hospital or protected by the police. Who would do this? Is it that creep you dated last fall, do you think?” Juanita asked.
Vanessa’s head swam. “I don’t know, but no, I don’t think it was Kevin.”
Kevin was a high school–basketball coach who turned out to be married, much to Vanessa’s surprise. But he was a phys-ed guy, not an explosives expert.
“So who was that man who saved you?”
Vanessa took a deep breath, settling her frazzled nerves as much as possible. “I don’t know. I mean, I know now, but he was a stranger.”
She wasn’t about to get into her interactions with Luke Berringer.
“If he’d saved my life, I’d make sure he wasn’t a stranger for long,” Donna said with a humorous snort.
“Listen, you guys, I don’t mean to be standoffish, but it’s been a difficult day. We can talk about this later. Right now, I want to work. To do something normal. See my kids, talk about teaching, you know?”
“Oh, sure. We’re sorry. It’s all so incredible,” Juanita said understandingly.
“That’s not the word I’d use for my house being blown to smithereens,” she said, more sharply than she meant to. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. You’re right. We’re being insensitive. Where are you staying? You should stay with me and the kids tonight, and for as long as you want,” Juanita said, hugging her again.
“I have a room at a local hotel, and my insurance covers it. Right now I need some space and to get my bearings. But thank you. You guys are wonderful,” Vanessa said, and she meant it.
Her friends had been so supportive over the years. They worked together, went out to dinner, to exercise classes, and they saw each other through thick and thin. But right now, she needed to keep calm and avoid more questions.
“Let’s go. I think they’re about to start the orientation program in a few minutes.”
Relieved, Vanessa smiled for the first time since the afternoon as she walked into the small auditorium. The young people in the seats were laughing and talking as the adults organized their presentations and got ready to start.
This was her world. The one she had built for herself, full of activity, love and hope. She breathed it in, greeting some of the students who smiled back at her and who didn’t ask questions other than if they could be in her class. Taking in her cuts and scrapes, another little girl, Kayla, wanted to know if she had fallen down. Vanessa assured her she was fine.
The query made her choke up slightly as she made her way down to the front, near the stage. Vanessa knew she had a good reputation with students and parents, but right now, knowing these children wanted to be in her life, that they were concerned about her and that her friends would open their homes to her, made everything all right. She could rebuild her house, buy new clothes. What she really cared about was her family, and that included these kids and her friends. Everything else could be replaced.
The tightness in her chest finally eased, and she started to take her seat as her mind went over her presentation. Luckily, she was third in the lineup, so she would have time to prepare.
“Ms. Grant,” she heard and looked up to see their new principal, Mr. Edwards. His eyes took in her bumps and bruises, too, and she tried to smile.
“Mr. Edwards.”
“Could we have a word before we get started?”
Vanessa read the tension in his face as nothing good, and felt her stress rise. Edwards was a competent principal as far as they knew—he’d only been with the school for one year. He wasn’t as friendly and approachable as their previous principal—he didn’t socialize or get to know teachers personally like Mrs. Madeira had—but he cared about the kids and he was fair.
They exited through a door that led up to the back of the stage.
“Are you all right?” he asked, his eyes searching her face again. “We were all concerned when we saw the news.”
“I’m fine, thank you. Just some bumps and scrapes.”
Vanessa held his gaze, but almost caved, he was staring at her so intently.
“Do you know what I did before I came here, Vanessa?”
She blinked, surprised by his use of her first name. He always insisted on formal address.
“I was part of the search committee, so I know you were in the military, and when you came home, you went back to school and received your Ph.D. in Education, and then worked at a few very prestigious schools before you came here, yes.”
“That’s my résumé. But what I did was work in a bomb-disposal unit. I was exposed to explosions on an almost daily basis. Roadside explosions, mostly, but a few times we had close calls in structures. Buildings,” he clarified, and she saw his eyes darken in an emotional way that made her catch her breath. “Sometimes we got there too late, or it didn’t go well. I saw that, too.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“I remember how long it took to get used to it. If you ever do. I still have nightmares about it sometimes.”
Vanessa blinked, unsure of what had brought on this sudden confession.
“I can only imagine how horrible—”
“No need to imagine—you lived through that today. The reporter said he wasn’t sure what was the source of the explosion, but I could see right away that it was set on purpose, from how it blew up. You were lucky, and we’re all very glad about that.”
She nodded.
“But you shouldn’t be here,” he finished.
“But I’m fine, really, and I have my presentation prepared already, and the kids expect—”
He placed his hands on her shoulders, surprising her again and cutting off her objection. She stiffened, and realizing he’d stepped over the line, he drew back his touch.
“Listen, Vanessa. I know how it feels. I know the need to close it out and want everything back to normal, but it’s not normal. Not at the moment. Likely you haven’t even begun to deal with what’s happened yet and being here is the last thing you should be doing. What if you break down on stage? Worse, someone tried to blow up your house—I won’t ask why—but you should be in police protection. I can’t risk whatever danger you’re in affecting the school, the kids—parents have already been calling about that.”
“But it was a mistake, I’m sure. Someone must have thought my house was someone else’s. It’s the only explanation. Who would want to hurt me?”
“I agree, but until that’s certain, I have to insist you don’t come to school. I’ve already cleared it with the board to put you on extended paid leave. Your job will be here for you when you are ready to come back. But that’s not right now. Go deal with this. Find someone to talk to—if you can’t, then here’s a number for a friend of mine. She deals with post-traumatic stress specifically. You’d like her. But you can’t be here right now. It’s not good for you, or the kids.”
Vanessa’s world was blown to bits for the second time that day. She held Mr. Edwards’s card in her hand, frozen, unsure what to do next.
“Let me get someone to help you with your things and walk you to your car. Are you okay to drive?”
“I’m fine,” Vanessa bit out, suddenly very angry. “You may not believe it, but I am. Why won’t anyone believe me?”
How could they do this to her? After everything she’d been through, they were taking this away from her, too?
“It’s not permanent, Vanessa. You’ll be back before Columbus Day, I’m sure. But when the matter clears, you’ll see that I’m right.”
The anger receded as quickly as it had risen. She was completely exhausted.
“Okay, yes. I want to do what’s best for the kids.”
“I know. Go rest. Recover and get your life back together. I hope they find who did this so you can really put it behind you.”
“Thank you,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.
Mr. Edwards squeezed her shoulder in support and then went back to the auditorium where he and everyone else would go on with the program. Without her.
Vanessa walked like a zombie to her classroom, where she stared at the empty desks and the absolutely clean chalkboard. She always loved decorating her door for the new school year and writing her name on that perfect board for the first time every September. She would have all of the kids come up and write their names on it, too, to introduce themselves.
This year, someone else would be welcoming her students.
But Mr. Edwards was right. She couldn’t risk even the slightest chance that she could upset or bring harm to her students. Her bruises had already worried sweet Kayla, and Vanessa felt a pinch of guilt.
Blowing out a breath, she went to her desk and started cleaning it out, packing the few things she had in there in a box that she found in the supply closet.
It was only for a month or so, until the police closed the investigation and found the person who ruined her house. She’d start rebuilding, her bruises would fade and she’d be back to work. Maybe the leave was a blessing in disguise. This way she could focus on starting again, and—
A noise in the hall stalled her thoughts, making her freeze in place.
“Hello?” she called out into the hallway.
No one answered.
Shaking off the momentary panic, Vanessa returned to packing her desk but then jumped as the door behind her clicked shut and the lights in the room went dark.
Before she could turn around, someone grabbed her from behind and covered her mouth, and she felt something hard jab into her ribs. She twisted, a stinging pain in her side making her cry out.
Vanessa fought and managed to grip the hand holding the knife, pushing it away from her and stomping hard on her assailant’s foot. He yelled, bending forward. His hold loosened as she threw her head back and caught him in the face and then turned to bring her knee up into his groin.
Down he went at her feet.
She was breathing so hard that she thought she might pass out. Vanessa grabbed the weapon and turned to run, but her attacker’s hand closed around her ankle. She fell hard. The knife flew out of her hand, sliding somewhere into the darkness under the desks.
On a surreal level, what crossed her mind was that she didn’t want any of the kids finding it, even though she was still struggling to get away. He was strong, and he managed to drag her closer even as she fought and screamed. No one could hear her—her door was closed, and she was on the far side of the building, away from the auditorium.
He must have been watching the whole time.
“Who are you? Did you set the bomb? Why are you doing this to me?” she managed, landing a rough kick to his forehead as he pulled her closer.
Unexpectedly, the door swung open and the lights went on. Vanessa looked up into the face of Luke Berringer, whose expression was so fierce that she was afraid of him all over again.
He jumped on the man holding her and yelled, “Go!”
Vanessa wasn’t sure what to do. She couldn’t leave Luke here with this attacker, and she watched as both men stood, facing off.
“Vanessa, get out,” he repeated through his teeth, not taking his eyes off the other man, who was completely covered, face and all.
Vanessa could see only his very, very cold eyes, now trained on Luke.
But then, as the two men began to grapple, a flood of voices in the hallway made them all stop. The man fighting with Luke broke away and ran back out the door, disappearing down the hall.
Luke took off after him.
She heard the kids’ voices coming closer, all being given a tour of the school with their parents. She found the knife that had skidded across the floor, grabbed her bag and headed for the nearest exit.
Outside, she didn’t see anyone. Luke and the other man had seemed to completely disappear. Searching around the lot, she called his name, scanning the dark shadows beyond the lit field with no result. Both men were gone.
But for all she knew, Luke Berringer could be lying dead in the shrubs somewhere. She couldn’t leave him. If not for him, she might be dead. Again.
She thought of using her cell to phone the police as she continued to search, but then hesitated. If she called them, they might not give her a choice about being in protective custody now. She didn’t want that, to be hidden away. She wanted to know why this was happening.
Continuing to poke through the bushes that surrounded the large field, she gripped the knife tightly in her hand and ignored the pain in her side. It wasn’t serious; she’d avoided the worst of the knife’s edge.
“Luke? Mr. Berringer? Are you there?” she called out in a low voice. No response.
At wit’s end, Vanessa started heading for the school. If Luke was hurt, he might need help.
As she got her phone out of her pocket, she barely lifted it up to see the screen when it went flying out of her grasp as she was grabbed from behind, a strong hand clamping over her mouth.
3
“SHH. QUIET. IT’S ME, LUKE. What are you doing? Do you have a death wish? Why didn’t you get out of here?”
His face was pressed against her hair, his fingers still over her mouth as she attempted to answer. The rest of him was pressed against the back of her body. She wiggled, mumbling something against his palm, and he let her go.
“Sorry. I didn’t want you screaming or drawing more attention to yourself,” he explained.
As she turned to face him, she winced.
“You’re hurt.”
“It’s nothing. A scrape. I think my jacket and shirt took the worst of it. And I just bought them,” she lamented.
He couldn’t check her wound here, and he figured he had to trust that she was telling the truth until he could get a closer look.
“I don’t know where that guy went, but we need to get out of sight, fast.”
As she ran briskly with him across the lot, he thought he heard her giggle. Or was she hurting?
“Are you okay?” he asked, slowing.
“Um, yeah, sorry. I think the day is catching up with me. I feel...punchy, I guess. Like I’m in an action movie.”
“You’re probably in shock. We need to get you somewhere safe. Fast. Where’s your car?”
She pointed.
“Can you drive?”
She straightened, glaring at him as if she were offended by the question. She’s tough, he thought with a flicker of admiration. And still gorgeous, even dirty and banged up, pale and probably scared out of her wits.
She eyed the car speculatively. “Could there be another bomb?”
Luke didn’t think so, but it wouldn’t hurt to check. He quickly scanned the undercarriage and under the hood, finding nothing unusual.
“You’re good. I’m in that black SUV. Follow me.”
“Where?”
“To the police. Where you can get into protective custody.”
She stepped forward, grabbing his arm with more strength than he’d given her credit for. “No.”
“What?”
“No protective custody. I don’t want to be locked away, not knowing what’s going on. And who’s to say these people won’t find me, anyway? What if the police can’t stop them?”
“I don’t think that would be the case. I’m sure they can put you in a safe house, and that’s the best thing to do until this is resolved.”
“I want to know why this is happening, Luke. The detective told me that you’re a bodyguard. I want to hire you. You can be my protective custody while we figure out what’s going on.”
Luke shook his head. There were too many problems with that. When he was pressed up against her, smelling her hair, every nerve ending in his body had reacted. If he was going to find out what was happening, and why, he had to keep a clear head, which meant handling this on his own.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Listen,” she said, stepping closer. “I’m not going into protective custody. I’m asking for your help. And maybe I can help you.”
“What do you mean?”
“The detective told me you came to my house because you thought I was someone else. Nicky? Maybe that’s who these people are after, too. Everyone seems to think I’m her. So, if you have me, maybe you’ll stand a better chance of finding her.”
“You’re volunteering to be bait?” he asked incredulously. “Absolutely not.”
“No, not that. Not bait. But I’ve been looking for someone, too. I know what it’s like. Maybe we can work together. Help each other. And you’ve saved my life twice already—who could keep me safer than you?”
Luke’s mind scrambled. There were five hundred reasons this was a bad idea and that he should bundle her into the car and off to the police.
But if she went off on her own, she probably would get killed. She was also right—whoever was after her probably thought they’d found Nicky, too—and maybe that would lead him to his target, as well.
“I bet I’ll regret this, but fine. If you want me to be your personal security, there are rules. You have to follow my lead. No arguments.”
She bit her lip before she nodded. “As long as I don’t have to go with the police, okay.”
“Come on.”
Getting into his truck, he left the spot where he had parked by the curb. Luke adjusted the rearview mirror to keep an eye on her car. He didn’t put it past her to duck away from him, but maybe almost being killed a second time had really made her decide that he was her best bet.
Luke had followed her to the hotel, then to the school. He’d seen the attacker enter through the side exit, but he had no idea where Vanessa was in the building. It had been one of the most anxious moments of his life searching for her and finally finding her in the closed classroom, struggling with her attacker.
He couldn’t have lived with two people dying because of his mistakes—and because of Nicky. He wondered if Nicole had set Vanessa up, or if it was simple coincidence that had put Vanessa in danger. She looked enough like Nicky to have fooled him, at first. He supposed it stood to reason that if he had seen her on the airport security footage that had first clued him in to her location, someone else might have, too.
Fate. Luke believed that he was destined to find Nicole and to make things right. Vanessa was apparently part of that journey. He’d learned, during his eastern studies, not to discount things like karma. The flow of energy, the cycles of the universe that moved everyone along in life. Everything was connected; Luke believed that. If protecting Vanessa was part of what he had to do to get to Nicky, then that’s what he’d do.
Turning onto a dirt road not marked on his GPS, they ended up by the water, parked by an abandoned marina.
Getting out of the car, he looked around and sensed no one in the vicinity. For a few heartbeats, he didn’t spot Vanessa and thought maybe she’d ditched him or missed the turn, but then her headlights shone on the dirt path coming at him. He walked up to the car when she parked.
“What are we doing?” she asked.
“We can leave your car here. In the old storage facility over there. It belongs to a guy I know. Take everything valuable, all ID, out of it.”
She looked at him as if he’d lost his mind.
“What if something happens to it? My insurance would go through the roof. I can’t afford to lose it!”
“They’ll know you booked the rental, and they’ll look for it. You can come back and get it later. Nothing will happen to it here.”
“Fine,” she muttered as she started the engine again and drove the car over to the storage building.
Luke knew it was difficult. No doubt Vanessa felt out of control of her life, and he was asking her to put herself in his hands. Well, technically she had insisted...figuratively speaking, anyway. But if she wanted to see this through, she had to trust him. He’d heard his cousins talk about the immediate bond that had to be forged between a bodyguard and the client they were protecting. Usually, the principal—the person being protected—would resist it. No one liked losing control, but control was illusory, at best. Luke knew that better than anyone.
He’d thought he had everything under control when Nicky had come into his life. He didn’t realize he’d been fooling himself until it was too late. Nicky was gone, and a man was dead.
Vanessa wasn’t Nicky.
He had to get that through his head. It was difficult, though. How could he look at her and not think about those times with Nicole? She’d been a wildcat in bed and out of it. The memory shot a bolt of desire through him. He’d been with some women since he was with her, of course, but none who were the same. Nothing as intense.
Until he’d kissed Vanessa. Touched her. But that was when he thought she was Nicky, right? He switched his gaze to the city’s lights that shone over the water in the distance.
This woman was off-limits. He had to stay focused if he was going to do this right. Nicky had to be at the center of this, somehow. Ultimately, finding her was what would make Vanessa safe again and allow him to get on with his life.
Luke peeled the door of the storage unit open, watching Vanessa drive in and shut off the engine. Climbing out of the driver’s seat, she grabbed her few things and joined him.
“What now?” she asked after they delivered her belongings to his car and he closed the storage unit door, bolting it.
“We go back to my place. You can’t go to the hotel. Did you need anything there?”
She hesitated. “I left all of the clothes I bought and my cosmetics there.”
“I’ll get you new. Now, let’s move.”
“Thanks for the help, Luke,” she said quietly as they returned to the main road.
“It’s what I’m here for.”
He needed to remember that.
* * *
“TAKE OFF YOUR BLOUSE,” Luke said once they were inside the door of his hotel room.
Vanessa stood in the middle of his suite like a startled deer.
“What?”
Vanessa could count the times she’d been in a strange man’s hotel room on exactly one finger.
At thirty-one, maybe that made her naive or inexperienced, but her life had been her work and her family. She’d had a few lovers, but they were usually men she’d known for a while. None of them had been spectacular or lasted for very long. She always managed to screw up the relationship somehow. She knew she maintained too much distance between herself and men. She didn’t let them in, didn’t open up. Emotionally or sexually. She didn’t know how to change that. Luke’s demand made her back up a step.
He seemed to understand, nodding. “I only want to look at that cut. Then I can go get you what you need while you shower.”
“I can go. You don’t know my size, or what I like,” she objected as he approached her.
“Please, let me see how bad it is, Vanessa.”
His green eyes were kind and focused, though exhaustion was showing in the strain in his face. It was only evident if you looked really close, like she was doing now. It reminded her that pretty much everything she’d been through in the last twenty-four hours, he’d been through, too.
Even so, she wasn’t about to take her shirt off on his command, but she did shrug off her blazer, lifting the edge of her blouse where blood had soaked through, partly drying the fabric to her skin. She jumped as she pulled gingerly at it.
“Don’t do that. Wait,” he said and stalked off down the hall, returning with a wet towel. “This will loosen the fabric from your skin.”
The warm, wet towel felt good against her sore side as they peeled her blouse back from the wound, and Vanessa was shocked to see how much she’d bled.
“Oh,” she breathed out, dizzy.
“Here.” Luke guided her to the sofa.
She eased back, letting him investigate her injury. From a knife. That someone had wanted to use to kill her.
Unreal.
“It bled a lot, but it’s not bad and the bleeding has stopped. It won’t need stitches. You got lucky.”
“Why does everyone keep telling me that?”
Luke smiled and looked closer at the wound. “I can get some butterfly bandages, antibiotic and gauze. We’ll be able to fix you up quite easily. Will you be okay to take a shower on your own?”
Vanessa’s heart skipped a beat. For a second, she thought he was going to offer to help her.
What would she have said?
He’d been a complete gentleman. There was no hint of anything suggestive or sexual since their kiss in the parking lot.
Confusing.
Especially as she stood here, thinking about Luke in the shower with her and not automatically dismissing the idea.
“I’ll be fine. It doesn’t hurt that much. I was just surprised by how much blood there was,” she said with a weak laugh.
“It’s understandable. I saw a Marine faint at the sight of his own blood once, so don’t be too hard on yourself.”
Vanessa smiled. His hands were gentle around the wound, and his tone was soothing. She studied his hair as he knelt before her, and she wanted to push her fingers through it. Everything had done a complete turnaround since a few hours before, when she was sure he was the one after her. Now she wanted him to stay close. Very close. That was so unlike her, and a sign that she really wasn’t herself.
“Okay, then,” he said, standing quickly. “Tell me what else you need, and I’ll go to the store while you shower.”
“Let me give you my credit card, or my ATM—”
“No. You can’t use any of those things until we know what’s going on. I’ll contact the detective and let him know you’re with me, so the police don’t go looking for you, but that’s it. Otherwise, you need to stay off the radar as much as possible.”
Vanessa blinked. “How could anyone track my money, or my car? I mean, who does that other than the government?”
Luke frowned. “You’d be surprised. It’s how I found you.”
“Yeah, actually, I meant to ask you about that. How did you find me?”
“We can talk about it later. For the moment, let’s get the basics attended to.”
She told him what she needed. “I feel awkward having you pay for all of this. Keep the receipts, at least, so I can reimburse you.”
“Sure, no worries,” Luke said, though she doubted his tone. “I’ll be back in an hour or so. I have a key. Do not open the door for anyone, under any circumstances. I don’t care if it’s life or death, room service, whatever. You keep it locked. Keep the curtains closed, too. Clear?”
She nodded soberly. Vanessa couldn’t help but feel that this was overkill, but then again, someone had tried to kill her twice in one day.
“Yes.”
“Good. Take your time, relax. I’m going to get us some food, too.”
“I ate earlier,” she said, not wanting to cause him any more trouble.
“I didn’t,” he said with a grin, and she felt her cheeks heat.
“Sorry, I just... Never mind.”
Luke offered one more smile and headed out the door, closing it firmly behind him.
Alone, Vanessa thought she might be swallowed by the sofa as her muscles turned to jelly. She’d held herself tense the entire time Luke had been touching her.
He’d only been checking her injury. There hadn’t been anything more to it than that. But still, his touch, and how he looked at her... She couldn’t help but feel something.
She didn’t know if it was the adrenaline, being completely lifted out of her usual reality, or the need for comfort, but she wished he would kiss her again. Just as he did in the police parking lot.
It was crazy, but if he asked her again to take her blouse off, she might not hesitate.
It really was unbelievable. She chided herself sternly as she stood up, minding her side as she headed to the bathroom.
Vanessa had never been in such a luxuriously appointed room before. Clearly, Luke liked to travel in style.
The bathroom was larger than the one at her house. Then again, the suite was almost the size of her entire first floor. Well, when she’d had a first floor.
Stripping off the clothes she’d bought that afternoon, she started to fold them and then sighed in disgust and threw them in the trash. They were all bloody and dirty, anyway.
Stepping into the hot shower was heaven. She didn’t have any of her usual shampoos or soaps, but Luke had some on the counter, so she used his.
It was intimate, she thought, moving the bar of soap he’d likely used that morning over her naked skin. She eased the bar down along her thigh, catching her breath for a second.
Her eyes popped open. What was going on with her? She never behaved like this. It was like her skin was sizzling, her blood pulsing with desire from using this soap.
The events of the day were messing with her brain. They said people who confronted death often wanted to express themselves sexually. It was a way of confirming they were alive.
Vanessa was feeling a bit too alive, perhaps. She wasn’t sure she could trust her instincts right now.
Briskly washing up, she stepped out and grabbed a few towels from the warmer in the corner. It was Florida, and it was summer, but the room was cool and the warm towels felt delicious against her skin.
Finger-combing her hair, she took in the darkening bruises from her fall earlier in the day, and the cut on her side. It wasn’t bad at all, really. Relieved at that, she looked for something to put on. Usually there would be a robe in the bathroom, but she didn’t see one.
Luke must have used it that morning.
Padding down the narrow hall, she found the suite had two bedrooms and Luke’s luggage was in one of them.
She saw the robe thrown over the back of a chair, and while she didn’t feel right intruding on his personal space, she couldn’t walk around in a damp towel, either.
She picked up the robe on the back of the chair and let the towel drop as she wrapped the thick, blue terry around her.
It smelled like him—like his soap. She smelled like him, too.
Her eye caught a folder on the small table next to the bed, and she knew she shouldn’t look, but she was here in a hotel with a man she didn’t know. She only had his word and the word of the detective about who Luke really was. She approached the file as if it might bite her, carefully picking it up and opening the cover.
Her own face stared back at her—she didn’t recognize the photo, but then she realized it was from her return trip from Puerto Rico. This had to be from airline security.
How could Luke get his hands on something like this? Wasn’t it restricted to the government? A chill chased down her spine as she flipped through the papers and blinked, tears stinging her eyes.
Julie.
Though the file called her Nicole. Nicole Brooks.
Nicky.
Of course. Logic had been lost in the panic of what had been happening, but now it made sense. Luke and Vanessa were both looking for the same woman. Her sister.
Vanessa paged through a few more of the files. There were a lot of pictures. Pictures of Julie with Luke, the two of them together, looking close. Intimate.
Her breath caught again. Luke had been her sister’s lover.
Is that why he wanted to find her so desperately? Why he’d kissed her? And why he’d stopped, knowing that she wasn’t the woman he was searching for? The woman he wanted.
Vanessa’s hand shook as she closed the file to put it back on the nightstand.
“Anything you want to know, feel free to ask.”
Vanessa jumped, dropping the file as she did so, Luke’s voice startling her.
“You’re back. I, um, I came in looking for a robe, and...”
“And you saw the file. It’s understandable. I would’ve done the same thing,” he said, unperturbed.
He set two bags down on the bed.
“Do you need help bandaging your side?”
Vanessa wasn’t sure if she was more flustered by being caught peeking or that he didn’t seem upset by it.
“I’ll be able to do it myself, thanks.”
What she’d seen in the file had poured ice over all of her adrenaline-fired fantasizing. When Luke had kissed her, he wasn’t kissing her. He’d been kissing Nicky.
So she was using an alias. No wonder Vanessa hadn’t been able to find her sister. She’d been looking for Julie Newman—her sister’s last registered surname—not Nicole Brooks all this time.
When she turned around, Luke was gone, and she was still sitting on his bed. Getting up, she took the bags and went into the other, unoccupied room. She was glad she found the file. It meant that she might be closer to locating her sister, and it also meant she could keep a clear head about Luke Berringer.
No more crazy romantic dreams. He was clearly in love with Julie—Vanessa could see that from the pictures of them together. What mattered to her was that she was one step closer to finding her sister, and Luke Berringer would help her do that.
She took off the robe and put on the lacy underwear and soft cotton shorts and tank that Luke had bought her—much sexier than what she would have bought for herself. Her mind went back to the file as she dressed. What this also meant was that Julie was in danger—someone clearly wanted to kill her. While Luke appeared smitten in the photos in the file, he hadn’t appeared that way earlier, in the police cruiser, when he thought she was Nicky.
He’d looked like he hated her.
Vanessa supposed there was only one way to really know what was going on. Luke said all she had to do was ask, so that was exactly what she intended to do.
4
LUKE DIDN’T EVEN taste his food as he ate. All he could think about was Vanessa sitting on the side of his bed, naked under the robe he’d worn that morning. She’d gone directly to her own room, and he assumed she went straight to bed. Maybe to avoid him after he caught her in his room going through his files.
It wasn’t a big deal, really. He believed her that she’d needed the robe and had picked up the file out of curiosity—and he probably would have done the same. She deserved to know why someone was after her and how he had come to find her. What he hadn’t expected was the devastated look on her face when he caught her.
“Hi. Mind if I join you? It’s too early to sleep, even though I’m worn out.”
She was standing in the entry, poised as if she were ready to run in the other direction. So different from Nicky. As he took her in, the salad nearly lodged in his throat. He really should have bought her some baggy sweats.
The shorts hugged her like a second skin, the tank top revealing the curve of her hip and breast. What had he been thinking? The clothing had seemed innocent enough when he’d picked it from the shelves.
With her damp, curling hair and no makeup, she looked much younger, more vulnerable, and he would never have mistaken her for Nicky. Her breasts were smaller, her general stature a bit more slight. And there was that mole....
Luke cleared his throat.
“Sure, come on in. Help yourself if you’re hungry. My eyes were bigger than my stomach,” he managed conversationally, though he had a hard time not watching her cross the room, admiring how gracefully she moved, even with her injuries.
She sat in the love seat across from him and curled into it like a cat, folding her legs under her in the way that women often did. He loved that.
“How are you feeling?”
“Much better,” she said. “Thanks for the supplies.”
“No problem. We can pick up anything else you need as we go.”
“About the file,” she said, cutting to the chase.
Luke nodded. “You’re probably wondering—”
“Julie. The woman you think is Nicole—Nicky—her name is really Julie. She’s my sister.”
Well. Luke sat back, hit between the eyes by that bit of information. So that’s why she’d been so upset.
Her sister, of course. He was an idiot, not putting two and two together sooner. They said everyone had a double, but Nicole told him that she was an orphan. No family. Then again, she’d lied about everything else, so why not this?
“I see.”
Though he didn’t really see. Not entirely.
“We were separated, Julie, our brother and me, when I was six. After our parents died. We all were shuffled into the foster system, separated, and I lost track of them after that.”
The light went on for Luke. “You mentioned you were looking for someone—so you’ve been searching for her all this time?”
“Yes. I never stopped. I thought I saw her on news footage coming out of Puerto Rico, so I contacted the news outlet and got a copy of the story. I really believed it was her, so I went there, looking. That was the airport photo you had of me—when I was coming home. How did you get that, anyway?”
“I used to run a tech company. I owned it, actually. We developed some of the key components that are used by airports for facial recognition. I still have some contacts who are able to let me know when they get a hit on Nicky. Julie, rather.”
“Oh. Wow. But I thought you said you were a bodyguard?”
“I am, now.”
“What happened?”
Luke immediately lost his appetite. “Your sister happened.”
“I could see that you two were, um, together? You seemed very close. Is that why you want to find her again?”
“We were very close. Or that’s what she made me think. You may not like hearing this, Vanessa, but you have a right to know what you’re getting into.”
Luke filled in all the details, as concisely and unemotionally as he could about what happened between himself and Nicky.
To her credit, Vanessa listened calmly, having no obvious reaction until he got to the part about finding his employee dead in his office. Her eyes welled, her hand clamping over her mouth on a sharply indrawn breath before she spoke.
“You can’t think Julie killed him? I can’t believe that. I won’t believe that.”
“No, it was suicide. But it was because of what Nicky, or Julie, did. She probably stole the code to sell out on the open market, and set this man up to appear guilty. I believed he was guilty. I brought charges against him, wrecked his life and he killed himself. She and I both bear responsibility for his death.”
It was the first time he’d said that aloud to anyone in years, and he couldn’t stand the horror in Vanessa’s eyes. It was mirrored in his own soul, the guilt and remorse. He’d done what he could for Marcus’s family—the man who killed himself—and all that he could do to assuage the rest of it was to make Nicky pay.
“That’s terrible. But it wasn’t your fault. You were tricked,” Vanessa said softly. “How could you know how he would respond?”
He breathed in her scent, his soap. Nicky always used it, too. Said she liked smelling like him, keeping him with her all day.
Damn it.
“I don’t want forgiveness, Vanessa. Not yours or anyone else’s. I want justice. I want your sister to answer for what she did, and that’s all.”
She frowned slightly.
“I know you can’t understand, Luke, but what we went through as kids... I was lucky. I found a good home, eventually. Even so, I’m a mess. I could have easily gone down the same road if not for my adoptive parents. Who knows where she and Max ended up? I know what she did was wrong, but I don’t believe she could ever kill someone. She was a gentle, kind child.”
“If you want out of this now, say so. It’s not too late to go into protective custody. But make no mistake, Vanessa, if you want to stay you need to understand that my goal is to find your sister, bring her to the authorities and keep you safe while I do it. Whoever you thought Julie was, she’s not that person anymore.”
Vanessa stared, muted by his vehemence. He cursed under his breath, joining her on the love seat as he continued, his hands on her shoulders as if wanting to make her listen.
“That bomb in your house? That attack? It was because of her. Someone wants her dead, and they almost killed you, instead. Your sister is a bad person. Indirectly or not, she hurts people. It has to stop.”
Her eyes were wide. She trembled under his touch.
“Sorry,” he breathed, getting control of his emotions and pulling her in close.
Vanessa had been through too much in one day, and he should have known better than to pile more on her. Though when he saw her with the file, he knew he’d have to tell her. She had to know the truth.
She burrowed into his chest, wrapping her arms around him, too. After a few minutes, the trembling stopped.
He’d meant to break the contact, but he didn’t.
“Vanessa,” he murmured into her ear, “after what happened at the police station, in the parking lot, I was seeing if you really were Nicky. She had a tattoo, right here,” he said, touching the spot lightly. She trembled under his touch and he withdrew it. “This isn’t what it seems to be.”
The attraction, the emotions overwhelming him at this moment, they weren’t real. It was the adrenaline, confusion and who knew what else mixed in.
She pulled away, but not entirely, as he brushed some thick curls from her cheek. She nodded.
“I know. I know you love her. Or loved her, once. And I know it’s probably difficult, wanting her so much, and I look so much like her,” she said, her voice tight. “I understand.”
Luke wanted to protest. He wanted to tell her that he didn’t love her sister and probably never really had. He’d slept with her, enjoyed her, but back then he wasn’t even sure he was capable of love. Nicky sure hadn’t been. It was why, in some respect, he’d thought they were perfect for each other.
But Vanessa...she was soft. She had a heart. She was hurting, and he wanted to make her feel better. In all kinds of ways.
But it was better for her to believe what she thought was true. Better for both of them. So he didn’t deny it.
“Thank you,” he said.
Disappointment and regret flashed across her features, but only for a second before she regrouped.
“Regardless of that, nothing changes. I have to find her. It would be better if you went to the police.” Maybe she would listen to reason now.
“No. No matter what, I want to find her, too. I want to help—her and you. There has to be more to the story. I won’t believe she’s as bad as you say until she tells me to my face. I want to know what’s really going on. I want to be there for her, if I can.”
Admiration swelled in Luke’s chest, but he didn’t dare touch her again. If he did, all of his good intentions might go out the window.
“Fine. We should get some sleep and think about our next move tomorrow.”
“Okay. Good night,” she said haltingly.
“Good night.”
What had he gotten himself into? He shouldn’t have given Vanessa a choice. He should have delivered her to the police and walked away. But something about her made it difficult to walk away. He headed to his room, too, pausing outside her closed door before he went inside. Resisting her could be more trouble than he’d counted on.
* * *
“PSSSST. VANESSA.” Luke’s voice WAS close. Low and sexy. Vanessa wanted that voice to keep talking to her, to tell her what he wanted and that she was the only one for him.
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