The Hill

“Getting all those files restored would be a major pain.”

Pushing to his feet, he extended his hand. “Then let’s go see what’s missing, and I’ll call the cops.” He circled his finger around the safe room. “I wouldn’t mention this, though—to anyone.”

“Nobody knows about it except me and you. My father had it put in when I bought this place.”

She grasped his hand and he pulled her up. The small room had them inches apart and she breathed in the scent of him—soapy with a hint of mint from his warm breath—and something else. Something she couldn’t identify, but that made her think of tousled sheets and bare skin and bruised lips.

Must be all the heightened tension of the break-in, but he could take her right here and she wouldn’t complain one bit. She’d make it a point to be the best he ever had—and from his looks and manner, he’d had more than his share.

He kicked the door of the safe closed with a bang and she jumped. “The rest of your stuff?”

His harsh tone brought her back to reality. He’d made it pretty clear he didn’t want to take her here or anywhere. Not that he didn’t enjoy the sparks between them—she could read a man as well as the next girl—but he had no intention of lighting that fuse.

She bent forward and it was his turn to jump back. She flattened out her smile as she twirled the dial of the safe. “Just locking up.”

Squeezing past her, he backed out of the room, his thigh brushing against her bum.

“Claustrophobic in there.” He let out a long breath and raked his fingers through his long hair.

He helped her swing the bookcase back into place, and she turned to survey the rest of the library. The monitor for the desktop computer was askew, and she looked beneath the desk for the CPU.

“One computer gone.”

“I suppose he had to take something to make it look good.”

“What are you saying?” She placed her hand on his forearm, her nails digging into the ink of his tattoos.

“London, this is obviously linked to the previous threats. Someone is trying to spook you or warn you. This is not some garden-variety break-in. I thought you’d figured that out the minute we walked into the condo.”

“I guess I did.” She twisted a strand of hair around one finger. She hadn’t really thought about who was responsible and why. That white-hot anger thumping through her veins had blotted out everything else, but it made sense.

“So you don’t think whoever broke in is really interested in what’s on my computer?”

“I can’t know for sure, but this seems like another scare tactic—he can get to you.”

“Where’s the demand? If he wants me to do or not do something, how am I supposed to know what that is?”

“Maybe he figures you’ll get so stressed out, you’ll drop the whole idea of running BGE.”

It must be someone who knew her well, then, because that was exactly what she would’ve done in the past. When the going got tough, London Breck threw up her hands and took a vacation. The old London Breck.

“I don’t know, Judd.” She left the library and checked the kitchen table, where she usually kept her laptop. “My laptop’s gone, too.”

A little fizz of fear made its way up her spine. Whoever had that laptop could make some interesting deductions from the pictures she kept on there.

She poked around and discovered other items missing—small electronics, some costume jewelry, three designer handbags—little stuff. Personal effects that would indicate a quickie burglary by someone who needed cash.

Slumping on the couch, she tilted her head back against the cushion and closed her eyes. “Are the cops on their way?”

“Eventually. I’m going to have a talk with Griff before they get here.”

“Great. He’ll probably never speak to me again.”

“He should lose his job. It happened on his so-called watch.”

“Please.” She opened one eye. “Do not get him fired.”

“Afraid of being labeled Ms. Scrooge? I’m sure the other tenants in this building are going to want to know about this.” He sat on the arm of the couch. “I wouldn’t worry too much about old Griff. He’s collecting a nice pension. He’s not going to starve in the streets.”

“I’m not going to be responsible for anyone losing a job.”

“Oh, boy.” He flicked her earlobe. “How are you going to run a multibillion-dollar global company?”

“I haven’t figured that out yet. Any ideas?”

“Me? I don’t even have a filing system down for my business.”

She trudged after Judd through the lobby, keeping her focus on his nice backside to avoid thinking about the conversation ahead and everything else going wrong in her life right now. If he didn’t want her jumping his bones, why did he wear jeans like that? Why did his blue eyes smolder when he looked at her? Why did his long hair brush his collar, asking to be smoothed away?