Straight from the Heart

“Why don’t you just tell her the truth?”

“I can’t—not yet.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Derek put in.

“I do. Everything depends on Lucas.”

BLAIR RUSHED from her office. She was running behind, and her mother hated it when she arrived late. She had just enough time for a shower and a change of clothes. Her mother also hated it when she wore business suits to her dinner parties. She was considering what to wear, when Lucas’s smile entered her mind—the smile that had lingered on his lips as he watched her dance…his dark eyes touching her in ways that… No, don’t think about him, she warned herself. Any decent man would have apologized profusely for intruding on such a private moment, but not Lucas. Oh no, he had to capitalize on it for his own pleasure. She wouldn’t think about him. She wouldn’t.

She had the whole evening ahead of her, an evening with her brother and family, and she refused to let thoughts of Lucas ruin it. If she hurried, she might have a few minutes alone with Blake before dinner. She missed their long talks and—

Blair came to a complete stop. Her briefcase dropped to the pavement and her purse slid from her shoulder. All she could do was stare at her car in growing horror. Across the windshield was scrawled in red lipstick, I’ll get you, bitch.

Her body started to tremble, and fear was on the verge of consuming her—a fear from the past, a blinding, helpless fear. No, no, no, she told herself. She would not allow Hector Raye to do this to her. He wasn’t going to manipulate her with threats. Summoning all her strength, she forced the fear away. She had survived worse than Raye, and she would survive this.

She retrieved her purse and found her cell phone. She dialed Roger Collins’s number, and he was at her side in less than ten minutes; in another five, he had the situation under control.

Evan Holt was notified and the police were taking prints from the car, prior to beginning their investigation. Blair just wanted to go home.

“Are you okay?” Roger asked for the third time.

“I’m fine,” she answered with a stiff smile.

“It has to be Raye’s gang trying to scare you,” Roger said, gesturing at the ugly words.

“I know, but I don’t scare easily,” she said with more bravado than she felt. Glancing at her watch, she asked, “How much longer do you think it’ll be? I have to be at my parents’ for dinner.”

Roger spoke to a policeman, then turned back to her. “I’m sorry, Blair, but this is going to take a while. We don’t want to miss anything.”

“I really have to go.”

Roger looked at the car and shrugged. “Tell you what, I’ll drive you to your parents’.”

“Thanks.” She smiled slightly. “But I need to have my own wheels. Could you drive me to a rental agency?” She thought of Roger as a good friend, but she realized his feelings for her went much deeper and she didn’t want to encourage him. But right now, it was hard not to let him take over and protect her.

“I don’t think you should be alone. You never know who’s waiting out there. I’d feel better if—”

She stopped him. “I’m not alone.” She opened her purse and showed him the small handgun. She’d had it for years, and Roger had actually given her shooting lessons.

“I’d forgotten about the gun,” he said. “Still—”

“No.” She stopped him again. “I’m not letting Hector Raye and his gang frighten me with threats.”

Roger shook his head. “I’m just worried about you, that’s all.”

“I know.” She shifted her purse strap higher on her shoulder in a nervous gesture. “You’re a very good friend.”

“Blair, I could be—”

“Are you driving me to the rental agency?” she interrupted, knowing what he was about to say and not wanting to deal with another emotional upheaval. Not at that moment, anyway. She’d have to talk to Roger in the near future about his feelings for her, and she wasn’t looking forward to it.

“Your wish is my command,” he answered.

“Great,” she said with a sigh, and they started toward his car.

“I think I’ll give Lucas a call and let him know what his client’s up to,” Roger said.

Blair grabbed Roger’s arm. “No, please don’t call Lucas.”

Roger frowned. “Why not? He should know what Raye’s doing.”

Blair took a deep breath and tried to explain. “I just can’t deal with Lucas Culver anymore today.” The words sounded stupid to her own ears, but she was hardly going to tell Roger that she couldn’t face Lucas.

Roger’s frown deepened. “If that’s the way you want it.”

“It is,” she told him, hoping he’d leave it at that. He did, and Blair was grateful. If she never had to see Lucas Culver again, it would be too soon.

CHAPTER THREE

WITHIN MINUTES she was in a rental car and on the way to her apartment. She’d told Roger she wasn’t afraid; now all she had to do was to convince herself of that. She purposely kept the horrid message out of her mind as she showered, dressed and headed to River Oaks. She had learned that trick years ago and it had saved her so many times.

She drove up to the big gates and saw that Horace was on duty. Horace was the groundskeeper and handyman who had worked for her father for years. Tonight he was manning the gate, which meant there were other guests besides family. She waved and drove through. Usually a code had to be punched in for the gate to open. Her family had moved here after the attack, and an up-to-date security system had been installed for their safety. The large two-story chateau-style house had been a haven during the healing years, and it was always a pleasure to come home—even though she knew there was still tension between her father and brother. How long could her father keep blaming Blake for not becoming a lawyer?

She drove to the garages and used her remote control to open the door for her parking spot. Since she was more than fashionably late, she planned to sneak in through the kitchen so her mother wouldn’t see her. She felt as though she was fourteen again and trying to put something over on her mom. Greta, the housekeeper, met her at the kitchen door. Greta wore her black uniform with the white frilly apron, which confirmed that tonight was a formal occasion.

“Miss Blair, what are you doing coming in through the back door?” Greta chided.

Blair held a finger to her lips to silence her.

“I see you, Blair,” Ava Logan called from the kitchen. “So you can stop trying to sneak past me.”

Blair smiled at her mother, knowing it was useless even to try to fool her. She hadn’t been able to do it in thirty-two years and she wasn’t going to do it now. She gave her mother a hug and a kiss as Ava meticulously placed hors d’oeuvres on a silver tray. Hors d’oeuvres she had made herself, Blair knew. Her mother was a gourmet cook and either supervised or did most of the cooking.

At sixty-two, Ava Logan possessed a timeless beauty. Her hair, a golden blond that now came out of a bottle, hung in a pageboy around her dainty features and emphasized her light-brown eyes. She wore a peach silk dress, presently covered by a white apron. Blair was always amazed at her mother’s ability to remain cool and collected in times of stress. Her mother’s calm had been invaluable to her after the attack. Her father thought he was the backbone of the family, but it was her mother with her gentle ways and dedication to family that held them together.

“I had a busy day at the courthouse,” Blair said in her own defense. She didn’t plan to tell her parents about the message on her windshield. It would only worry them and they’d worried enough about her. Besides, tonight was a night for fun.

“Yes, I heard.” Her mother glanced at her. “Congratulations, darling.”

Before Ava turned away, Blair caught a glimmer of something unexpected in her eyes. Apprehension? But why?

“Mom, is everything okay?” Blair asked tentatively.

Ava slowly removed her apron and placed it carefully on the counter. “We have a houseful of guests, good food and wine, so what could be wrong?”

Her mother’s words sounded forced.

“I don’t know. You tell me, because you’re acting strangely.”