Caught Off Guard

A sound at the door caught her attention and she snapped her head around to find Blake standing in the doorway to her bedroom.

She was an idiot. There was just no other way to explain why her body responded to the thought of him here, in her space. Her breasts began to tingle and an ache she’d been ignoring for weeks settled deep and hard at the center of her sex.

But apparently she was the only one experiencing the need for a quick repeat of their night together, because instead of undressing her with his eyes—which is what her body wanted him to do—he was shaking his head in disbelief.

“Shoes. Purses.”

“Hey, buddy, don’t knock the importance of designer leather goods. In fact.” An idea sparked as her eyes raced across the contents of the box on her lap. Snapping open the lid, she dug into one of the neatly arranged boxes and lifted out a pair of Prada pumps, nothing fancy from the front, but the heel was spindle thin and shaped like the stem of a flower. The petals, a throbbing hot pink, unfurled around the heel of the shoe. They were sexy and sophisticated. She always felt like a million bucks when she wore them.

If there was ever a time she needed an extra boost of confidence, it was now.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like? Changing my shoes.”

“Now?”

She shrugged. He wouldn’t understand.

Placing the box back on its shelf, she pushed past Blake and went downstairs.

“Nope, nothing is missing.”

She wasn’t a complete idiot. She had glanced inside her office on the way past to make sure that the computer, printer and fax were all still there. However, those could have easily been replaced. Some of the shoes in her collection she’d had since she was sixteen. They were irreplaceable works of art.

A scowl marred the officer’s face as he followed her progress back to her seat.

“Can you think of any reason someone might want to scare you? Upset you? Hurt you?”

They spoke at the exact same time, Anne saying, “No,” Blake blurting “Yes.”

She glared across at him, telepathically telling him to shut his big mouth. “No.”

He ignored her. “Do you know Anne’s real name?”

The other man looked startled for several seconds before his face shuttered and he slowly answered, “Apparently not.”

“Meet Annemarie Sobel Prescott, the heir to the Prescott Hotel fortune.”

The officer’s eyes went huge in his face and Anne just sighed. Another person who knew her identity. Another potential leak. Another person who might contact the gossip rags and reveal her location. Sure, it had been ten years, but she could just see the headlines now—Missing Heiress Found in Podunk, Alabama. Some people might view her certainty at being front-page news as egotistical self-aggrandizing. She saw it as reality. The way she’d disappeared … hell, Mother hadn’t even known where she was for months.

Besides, Prescotts were always newsworthy.

“Her mother recently asked me to bring her back to the family compound in New York. There have been threats against her life.”

“Bullshit.”

Both men turned to stare at her. She supposed the phrase hadn’t been exactly ladylike. Too bad.

“My mother simply wants me, and you—” she looked pointedly at Blake “—to dance to her tune. She’s been trying for months to get me home and that lie is just the last in a long line of them. Have you seen proof of these supposed threats against me?”

It was Blake’s turn for pointed glances as he stared behind her, at the splintered edges of her back door.

“Coincidence. No one knows I’m here.”

“I found you. Rather easily.”

“You knew where to start looking. It wasn’t exactly a needle-in-a-haystack hunt.”

Apparently deciding to break up the heated discussion before it escalated, the officer cleared his throat and asked, “Has anything else happened recently?”

“No.” She glared at Blake.

“Well, this report will be on file. I’m sorry to say that I don’t expect much to come of it. Nothing was taken. Although, I will send a crime-scene tech out to collect evidence.” He rose from the sofa, sticking his hand out. “Ms. Prescott.”

“Ms. Sobel.”

The smile on his face faltered for a moment before he regained his composure. “Ms. Sobel. Please be sure to report anything else out of the ordinary that occurs, no matter how small it seems. If Mr… .”

“Mitchell.”

“If Mr. Mitchell is correct, then establishing a pattern of harassing behavior will be important.”

“Thank you.”

Anne walked the man to the front door and stood staring at it for several seconds after she’d closed it behind him.

She didn’t want to turn around, walk back into that room and deal with Blake. Or rather, she didn’t want to deal with the fight she knew was coming. Holding out against her mother was one thing. Would she be able to stand her ground against Blake, too? Especially when all her body wanted to do was melt into him?

He didn’t give her much time to build her defenses. His voice sounded behind her, forcing her to face him.

“Go pack whatever you need. I’ll call around and make a hotel reservation.”

No, he wouldn’t. “I am not staying in a hotel.” Her voice was adamant and disdainful, more so than she’d meant it to be. It was a knee-jerk reaction, reverting to what she’d always thought of as the Prescott Tone of Voice. When she was growing up, it had gotten her whatever she’d wanted.

She immediately regretted using it. She’d learned that simple courtesy went much further than any regal facade she’d perfected. But when she was cornered.

“Oh? The local Motel 6 not good enough for little miss silver-spoon-in-her-mouth?”

His attitude wasn’t helping any, either. “Let’s just say that the last time I was in a hotel it did not end well.”

Blake’s face hardened. Her stomach tied in knots, her body catching on to the problem long before her brain did. “And whose fault was that?”

She was taken aback by his tone and the way he’d referred to her brother’s suicide. “Is that supposed to be a comment about my brother?”

“Your brother? How would he have anything to do with our night together?”

With a groan, she realized they’d been talking about two completely different things. Understandable from his point of view. How to explain it to him, though, without bruising his ego? The only experience she immediately linked to a hotel was finding her brother’s lifeless body. Of course, to him that would probably mean their night together had been completely forgettable. So far from the truth. But she wasn’t sure he needed to know that.