Undercover Fiance. Sheryl Lynn
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She wondered what he meant by that. Years as an army brat had turned her into a minimalist as far as possessions were concerned. She had little interest in knickknacks. The room was rather plain, with mauve-painted walls enlivened by framed fine-art prints. The furniture was functional; her only concessions to luxury were the designer linens on the bed. She caught him peering at a stack of paperback novels. She loved sexy historical romances, gory horror stories and trashy Hollywood glitzy sagas. His interest discomfited her.
She sipped the bourbon and water. The alcohol burned her throat, but warmed her belly. He was the first man, other than a relative, who’d ever been inside her private room.
A man who’d risked his life to save hers. “I owe you an apology.”
“For what?”
She picked up a sandwich. It was too late to eat, but her stomach gurgled indelicately. “Back in the garage. When I fired you.”
“I’m fired?” His sunny good humor teased a smile from her.
She should fire him. He was obnoxious...he’d saved her life. “I don’t appreciate men making passes at me. Especially when I have a job to do.”
He regarded her. “I stepped out of line.”
“You did.”
“Can I plead temporary insanity?”
She bit into the sandwich before he caught her smiling.
“Sorry about your head.” His fingertips grazed the bandage. Even that light touch made her wince. “I didn’t have time to check for nails.”
“I’m thankful you figured out how to get us out. I was starting to panic. I never would have thought of breaking through the wall.”
“Breaking boards is my specialty.” He flashed a cocky grin. “It drives the chicks wild.”
A laugh burst free before she could stop it. She quickly gained control. “Sit down and eat.”
“How did the cops do with the interviews?”
Good humor fled. “The sheriff doesn’t believe me about Pinky. He acted as if I’m deliberately concealing Pinky’s identity. Or that it’s somehow my fault the garage burned down.”
“Humph. I should have warned you. Cops have a bad habit of forgetting who the victim is. Did I tell you my stalker had me arrested?”
“You mentioned it.” Appetite gone, she set the sandwich on the plate. She eyed her drink, seriously considering the oblivion alcohol offered.
“Buck up. We’ll catch him. He’ll get tagged with attempted murder and arson.”
She didn’t see how. Nobody claimed to have seen anyone hanging around the garage before the fire. Nobody confessed to setting the blaze. Anger washed through her. “I gave Pinky’s letters and cards to the sheriff. He probably thinks they’re cute. Like mash notes from a teenager.”
He chewed thoughtfully on a steak and cheese sandwich. He toyed with a pickle spear. “One good thing. Pinky isn’t worried about your father anymore. My plan is working out great.”
“I am so relieved,” she said dryly. The fire today was going to seem like a picnic compared to how the colonel was going to react when he found out she’d been concealing her problem with Pinky. “What if he decides to set the lodge on fire?”
He ate half the sandwich before he wiped his mouth with a napkin and replied. “I doubt it. Yeah, he lost it at the garage, but there was a lot of temptation. Gas cans sitting around. You and me alone in a private place. I have a feeling he reacted before he realized he could hurt you.”
The door drew her gaze. As a precaution the sheriff had assigned a deputy to patrol the resort. She wished for an occupying army. “What if he knows you’re in here right now?”
“No gas cans sitting in the hallway.”
“Don’t be flippant. He tried to murder us.”
He reached across the small table and placed a hand over hers. Her breath caught in her throat. When he joked around and acted like a chauvinistic clown, she found him easy to dismiss as just another conceited, too-big-for-his-britches playboy. With his eyes gazing steadily into hers he appeared somehow dangerous. And sexy. Her belly did a little flip-flop.
“I won’t let anything happen to you, Janine.” He squeezed her fingers.
“Who will make sure nothing happens to you?”
His smile caught her off guard. “Why, cupcake, I do believe you care.” Chuckling, he returned his attention to the food. “Don’t you worry about me.”
It bothered her deeply that she was doing exactly that. “In any case, you’ve done your job. I thank you with all my heart. But it is time for you to leave.”
“I haven’t finished my sandwich.”
“I was thinking about in the morning.”
He made a dismissive sound. “I thought I wasn’t fired.”
“The police are involved now. They’ll find Pinky. It’s too dangerous for you to stay here.”
“If Pinky runs me off, then he’ll get the idea that violence is the answer to his problems.”
“He wouldn’t dare.”
“Don’t count on it. Since he attacked in broad daylight he doesn’t care about witnesses. It’s plain dumb luck nobody saw him.”
She clamped her arms over her bosom and focused on him her most frigid glare.
“Look at this situation from his point of view. You’re his goddess, the love of his life. He needs an excuse to justify his own cowardice. Who do you want him to blame, me or your dad?”
“But the police—”
“He may very well be a sociopath and capable of lying convincingly to the police.” He freshened her drink with a splash of bourbon. “We can’t let him think for a second that he can control you with violence.”
Sickening visions of Pinky murdering her father turned her shaky inside.
“You can’t placate these nuts. You can’t let them take control. You have to push back, fight back. No amount of wishing makes them go away.”
“How am I supposed to fight back when I don’t even know who he is?”
“Don’t let him run me off.”
If it were only her own safety at risk, she would argue. She would accept the protection offered by the police and suffer Pinky’s harassment. But if Pinky could so blithely attempt to burn her to death, who knew what he’d do to her father. “I’m scared if we make him mad he’ll hurt the colonel.”
“I’ll keep him so busy he won’t even think about your dad. I promise.” He yawned mightily and covered his mouth with his hand. “Sorry.”
“You must be exhausted. I’ll show you to your room. It’s just down the hall.”
“I’m staying here.” He jerked a thumb at the door. “Rustle me up a blanket and share a few pillows. I’ll be fine on the floor.”
Awareness of her nakedness under the robe warmed her blood. She wished Daniel did look like Raymond Burr, preferably grossly overweight. “Is that necessary?”
“It is until we know for certain Pinky doesn’t have access to room keys.” He shifted on the chair and reached to his side. A fastener snapped. He placed a handgun on the table.
Her eyebrows raised. The colonel had taught all his children weapons safety and how to shoot. Still, the sight of such compact deadliness dismayed her. “A Luger 9 mm. Nice. Do you have a concealed carry permit?”
His sudden smile