Pass Interference. Desiree Holt
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inhaled, imagining the drift of his clean male essence in the air. And his touch, his hands on her arms, his cock so thick and swollen pressed against the heat of her pussy. The thin dress had been practically no barrier at all. She smiled with satisfaction, knowing she had aroused him, obviously unwillingly. Good! She’d like to arouse him a little more. She’d like to—
Enough. In or out tonight? She thought about it for a long moment, finally deciding to ditch the cruddy-bar circuit for the night. When she finished the wine, the sun had dipped even lower and she headed inside. Movie and jammies, she decided. And a pizza. Just what she needed.
A long hot shower worked out the kinks. She scrubbed every bit of makeup from her face, wrapped a towel around her wet hair, and creamed every inch of her skin that was visible. After belting a terry robe at her waist, she picked up her phone to order the pizza and suddenly remembered she had left her car in the driveway. She hated to leave it out there all night. Not that she had to worry about more than the weather damaging the custom paint job. Her neighborhood was safe and all that, even if the rare communications from her father included messages to move to a gated community.
Whatever he asked, she always did the opposite. Grudgingly, she admitted to herself that was getting old, too.
Everything was getting old. But it wasn’t too late to clean up her act.
Sighing, she stuck her feet into slippers, grabbed her keys from the counter, and automatically put her cell phone in her pocket. On the way to the driveway, she disarmed the security panel so she could get back in easily. The outdoor sconces that she flipped on shone enough light on the driveway for her to see—
She stopped. Stared. Stared even more, frozen in place.
Her tires were slashed. All four, she discovered as she circled the car in a daze. Not just slashed, but destroyed, with deep cuts all around. She might just as well have put a sign on the car that said, “Destroy me.” She must have been totally oblivious not to hear anyone. And it was dark enough now that someone could sneak up to her place, crouch down, and get the job done before anyone took notice.
She leaned against the car, suddenly weak and shaky. This person, whoever it was, had been right here in her driveway. Could have walked around to where she sat on the patio. Broken in while she was in the shower. Done God knows what to her. For a moment, she could hardly breathe. Couldn’t move. This was more than silent telephone calls.
Don’t call the police. You don’t need that kind of publicity.
Besides, she could hear her father’s voice in her head telling her that was the smart thing to do, so of course she would do just the opposite.
So no police. She didn’t need blue lights flashing, photographers capturing every action, the neighbors all standing around whispering about her. No, there was only one person she could call, much as she hated to. Two calls in two days? She could just imagine what he’d be thinking.
When she could make herself move, she unlocked the car and crawled into the driver’s seat. She pulled her cell phone from her pocket and, swallowing any misgivings, she punched in the number, praying she’d get an answer.
Please let him answer.
“Ortiz.”
Oh, thank God.
“Rafe?” She took a deep breath, let it out. “Hi. It’s Tyler.” On the off chance that he’d frozen her out of his brain or knew a lot of women with the same name, she added, “Gillette.”
There was a long moment of silence. “What now, Tyler? What’s going on? Did you get yourself into another mess again?”
Well, of course he’d think that. Why shouldn’t he?
“I—Can you come to my house? I have a little problem.”
She could almost feel him come to attention over the connection. “Is he there? That guy?”
“No, no, no.” Oh, God. “He doesn’t even know who I am or where I live.”
“So you say.” Another pause. Then he repeated, “What’s going on?”
“I—Someone slashed my tires. In my driveway.”
“Slashed your tires?”
She could tell he was trying not to sound irritated. In a minute, he’d probably tell her to just call a garage and leave him alone. Or wait until the morning and get hold of the dealer. After all, she really wasn’t his responsibility. Something pinched inside her when she realized she really had no one who was her go-to person. She’d done a good job of alienating everyone who might fit the bill. She was sure Rafe was only doing this because he worked for her father, because she knew he had little to no use for her. Then he sighed, a sound so audible it carried over the connection.
“Where are you now?” he demanded.
“Inside my car, still outside.” And afraid to get out.
“Go in the house and lock the door. I’ll be right there. Did you call the cops?”
“No.” She shook her head, even though he couldn’t see her. “No cops. I mean it, Rafe.”
Another long moment of silence stretched across the connection. “All right. Go inside. I’m on my way.”
“Thank you.” She said it in a small voice. She wasn’t sure he heard because he disconnected the call.
Looking carefully all around her, she eased out of the car and let herself into the house. He was coming. He might be furious with her but at least he was coming.
As she stood in the hall, her phone chimed with an incoming text message. She prayed it would be Betsy or one of the few people she’d given the new number to. Fingers shaking, she opened the text.
“Hope you weren’t planning 2 drive anywhere tonight. I can get 2 u anywhere.”
She slammed the phone down and pulled in a deep breath, hoping she wasn’t going to throw up.
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