Hard to Resist

Grabbing black, formfitting pants, she tugged on a pair of heels and a hot-pink T-shirt with a colorful, fringed vest, assessing herself in the mirror.

If she were honest, she knew it was an outfit meant to draw a man’s eye. A particular man’s eye in this case. She nibbled her lip, suddenly apprehensive. So he was a good-looking guy—she should still be careful. Was it smart to have agreed to meet him, a stranger, for dinner? What did she really know about him, after all?

She shook off the doubts and their chilling effect. It was just business, some pizza and conversation. She’d wear this same outfit if anyone had suggested meeting her for dinner that evening. A lot of her clothes were colorful and funky and often drew attention. She wasn’t going to second-guess it. This was who she was.

The phone rang, and she contemplated not bothering with it. She had to meet Jarod, and contrary to popular wisdom about keeping men waiting, Lacey was never late. She was obsessively punctual, in fact.

Making sure she had her wallet, she dug around to transfer her stuff to a smaller purse as she answered the phone.

“Hello?”

“Lacey?”

“Yes?”

“This is Gena, from Legal Aid in L.A.?”

She froze in place. Legal Aid had handled her case back in Los Angeles, since she couldn’t afford a high-priced lawyer. Her family would have paid, but she didn’t want them to know what happened. She told them she’d changed her name for business reasons, to maintain privacy from her work. She hated lying to them, but it was better than having them worry about her.

“Hi, Gena, what’s up?” She tried to sound casual, cheerful, but it felt as if her stomach was in her throat.

“Listen, there’s no need to worry, I want to emphasize that first. You should know that Scott Myers was released from his sentence to finish his probation on house arrest. He’s out of prison, but he’s still in California, and he won’t be able to leave a predetermined schedule of home and work for fourteen more months.”

“No,” was all Lacey could breathe before Gena continued.

“Please, don’t worry. He’s wearing a personal monitoring device. He won’t be able to find you, and probably won’t bother, given his profile, the steps you’ve taken and your history. Still, if he attempts to contact you in any way, your restraining order is still in force, even under your new name, so let us know, okay? I don’t want to upset you, but we like to make sure you know what’s going on.”

Lacey’s breathing seemed cut off and she swallowed, her previous cheer evaporating as she found the air to mumble an answer before she hung up.

Scott was free.

He shouldn’t have been released for another eighteen months, she recalled. The night he left Lacey unconscious on her kitchen floor he’d gone to a local bar and started a fight there, causing several thousand dollars of damage and other injuries. Luckily, the combined charges had sent him away for a while.

Lacey breathed deeply, calming herself. She had to listen to Gena, who wouldn’t bullshit her. Scott wouldn’t come after her. Still, when he’d left her lying there, broken and bruised, he’d made it clear he thought she was dead. His only comment upon finding out she wasn’t was relief that he wouldn’t be charged with murder.

She was far away now, new city, new name. The calendar project didn’t really put her in the public eye—she was behind the scenes. Bliss wouldn’t give out her personal details. She was safe, she reassured herself, standing frozen with the phone in her hand for several minutes.

Eyeing the door, the dark city streets that she usually loved so much suddenly seemed ominous. Anxiety gripped her at the thought of going out. With a stranger, no less.

What had she been thinking? Hadn’t she learned anything from her previous mistakes?

She had no idea who Jarod Wyatt was, and just because he had an impressive official record, that didn’t mean squat. Plenty of cops, firemen, doctors—all kinds of men—were closet crazies. More dangerous because of their outward appearance, because they had power and liked to use it. That’s how it had been with Scott. Witty, handsome, successful…with all of that violence hiding under the surface.

She put her purse down, started to take her vest off, but stopped, pausing in the center of her living room.

This was important, her heart told her. She had a big choice to make.

Was she going to hide in her apartment and her studio for the rest of her life?

No. She didn’t want to be that person.

The fear was just an emotional response, a good response, so the counselor at the hospital had reassured her. It would keep her alert and keep her safe, but she couldn’t let it run her life. Good fear, bad fear. She had to remember the difference.

Jarod Wyatt was a man she’d be working with closely, and she couldn’t let her personal demons get in the way of her success on this job. His record was impeccable, and she’d been alone with him earlier and hadn’t felt the least bit afraid. She’d been excited about seeing him tonight—maybe a little too excited—so now she knew to throttle that back so she didn’t give the wrong impression. But she would still go.

She’d meet him in a populated, well-lit place for some pizza, talk work and welcome him to the city. Enjoy having his company for a few hours. She’d be friendly, professional and keep clear boundaries. Then she’d come home and put this all out of her mind.

She needed to keep things in perspective—it wasn’t as if Jarod had asked her out, and he hadn’t indicated anything other than casual friendliness. He was just a guy, another model.

No big deal.

JAROD STEPPED OUT of the elevator of the very nicely appointed hotel and smiled at a group of older women who watched him walk by. He smiled at them and touched his fingers to the brim of his hat. The group seemed to get a kick out of it.

He saw the beacon of Lacey’s fuchsia shirt immediately as she stood poised by the entrance, looking around furtively. A glance at his watch told him he was five minutes early, and she’d obviously changed her clothes, so she couldn’t have been waiting long. After his surprise appearance earlier, he approached carefully, making sure she had ample time to see him. She turned, smiling falsely, overbrightly.

Did she regret making plans with him?

He was perfectly happy to explore the city on his own, but he also looked forward to some company, someone to share the sights with for an evening. She’d seemed interested and friendly at the studio. He wondered what had changed.

“Hi there,” he said casually, looking out at the streets bustling with early-evening traffic. The noises were muted here in the lobby. Though he could spend long days and nights in the desert enjoying nothing but the silence of the sand and the stars, he found the energy of the city stimulating, as well.

Or maybe it was the woman standing just a foot away, in spite of the tension stiffening her very nicely built form. Something about her had his blood circulating with a low, warm hum through his system, but he wasn’t sure she was having the same reaction.

“You okay?” he found himself asking.

“Sure. Why do you ask?”

“You seem…strung a little tight.”

She frowned, and shrugged. “Just distracted. Busy day, a lot on my mind.”

The message underneath the cool reply really said “mind your own business” and wasn’t lost on him. If this was going to be the mode of conversation, he was in for a long evening.

“How about a drink first? I could use something to warm up. Chilly out there tonight.”

“I think it’s going to be an early winter this year.”

“You said you wanted to shoot seasonal photos—how is that possible when it’s already October?” he asked as they walked to the bar. She hadn’t said yes or no to the idea of a drink, but he wasn’t lying about wanting one. She didn’t object as they headed in that direction.

“Mostly we’ll use props, how you’re dressed, that kind of thing. Then the postproduction guys can work their magic, too. The photo will be mostly you and not so much background. So for a July shot you might wear trunks, and we’ll work it that it looks summery.”

“Even if I’m freezing my ass off in reality?”

“Yeah.” She smiled then, and laughed. “Welcome to the cruel world of modeling.”

He ordered a whiskey, neat, and asked her if she wanted anything, surprised when she ordered the same. His eyebrows lifted as they tilted their glasses toward each other and she swallowed hers in one throw, closing her eyes as if she’d needed it more than he did. He hadn’t realized how pale she was until the warmth from the whiskey infused her skin with a pink glow.

Something had happened between the time he’d left and now, but he didn’t feel free to inquire. He was a stranger, a visitor that she was nice enough to spend some time with because they had to work together. That was it.