Carolina Heat Page 8

  Other jerks followed. She attracted them with stunning regularity. The final straw came almost two years ago. Annabelle had been sure all her bad luck with men was in the past. Vincent was a lawyer who shared her near-addiction to the mocha lattes in a little shop near her office. It was around the corner from his law firm, and it didn’t take too many chance meetings for them to share coffee on a regular basis. He had a good job, she’d been in his loft apartment many times, and everything was going great. After being together for nearly a year she was almost convinced this could be it.

  And then he broke down in bed one night, sobbing like a child. Unbeknownst to her he’d been a frequent visitor to Atlantic City over the years. As his salary grew, so did the risks he took. He was deeply in debt at two separate casinos. Not the kind of debt where you declared bankruptcy and started all over, but the kind where you leave the country to avoid getting your legs broken. That night she came to the realization that shadowed her thoughts whenever she met an attractive man: every man had a fatal flaw. Some men had lots of little problems, but the ones who were too good to be true on paper were just that. After her last two disastrous break-ups, she wasn’t willing to waste the time waiting for his fatal flaw to appear.

  “It’s a nice story, Mark, but it doesn’t explain why you played me for a fool.” She yanked her hands out of his and stood up. “I hope you enjoyed your little game, because it’s definitely over now.” She reached for her sandals, but Mark got there first. He held them just out of reach and walked toward the surf.

  “No way, Ms. Carlyle. You have a nasty habit of trying to bolt in the middle of a discussion and I’m not finished explaining. You can give me your frosty, Northern glare and judge me all you want when I’m finished.”

  Annabelle’s gaze was indeed icy. But again, a good deal of her frustration was directed at herself for losing control. Honestly, this man provoked her temper unlike anyone else. Five minutes from a deadline and stuck on Fifth Avenue in traffic? No problem. About to miss her flight to D.C. to interview the Secretary of State? Annabelle constantly took anything life tossed her way in stride, but Mark Dering pushed buttons she didn’t even know she had.

  “Fine. But on our walk at the Battery, at dinner last night—you’ve had every opportunity to mention what you do for a living. This had better be one world class explanation.”

  “Well, don’t hold your breath,” he snapped as he stood. “In fact, it’s probably one of the worst excuses you’ll ever hear in your entire life.”

  She crossed her arms, tossed her hair, and gave him a saccharine smile. “Oh, in that case, I’m all ears.”

  “I’m boring.”

  “What?”

  “My work, as a researcher, is boring. Dull as toast. Sleep inducing, or so everyone says.”

  “Everyone who?”

  He began to tick them off on his fingers. “Let’s see—my parents, my friends, and,” he gave a short, humorless laugh, “especially every single woman I date. They say my work is boring, or it’s all I talk about, and then I bore them silly.” Mark turned away from her to face the sinking sun. “When I met you, we didn’t exchange any of the usual information about jobs. Then when you joined my tour, I figured it was a chance to be someone else for a few hours. Someone who wouldn’t bore you to tears in the first ten minutes. Then when you actually seemed interested, I didn’t want to stop being that other person.”

  Annabelle was stunned. All her anger melted away at his words. “You are the least boring person I’ve ever met.” She laid a hand on his shoulder. It shocked her that he’d think that. Mark was one of the most interesting men she’d ever met.

  His shoulder jerked beneath her grip. “I’m not big on pity, Annabelle.”

  “Believe me, this isn’t pity. You infuriate me, you make me laugh, you make me lose control, and you excite me. But you most assuredly do not bore me.”

  He rubbed his cheek against her hand and swung around. “But—” he began, and then squinted his eyes.

  “What is it? What do you see?”

  “At first I thought it was just a coincidence, but now I’m pretty sure…” his voice trailed away. She twisted to match his line of sight, but he grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her close.

  “Don’t turn around. Someone’s watching us. His binoculars aren’t trained high enough to be looking at the ocean. For whatever reason, we’re the ones in his sights.”

  Alarm bells rang loud and clear in Annabelle’s head. She put her hands on either side of Mark’s face and stood on tiptoe to bring herself to his eye level.

  “Is he wearing a camera around his neck and an obnoxiously loud Hawaiian shirt?”

  “How did you know?” When she was silent, he snatched her hands from his face and held them at her sides. He spoke through gritted teeth. “Answer me, damn it. It’s obvious you understand whatever’s going on right now. I have a right to know.”

  She bit her lip in frustration. Blowing her cover was the only option. This was at least twice she’d been spotted with Mark. If she left him in the dark he could be in danger without even knowing why.

  “I’ll explain everything once we leave the beach, but we need to get out of here. We’re the only ones on this beach besides our nosy friend. Listen to me very carefully; it is not safe for us to be here right now.”

  Mark blinked slowly, and she saw he understood. “Then we’ll leave.”

  “Help me fold up the blanket. I might be paranoid, but better safe than sorry. There’s no time to put on your shoes. Just carry it all to the car, and walk in a zigzag pattern, as if we had a few too many drinks. Whatever you do, try not to walk in a straight line.” She kissed him, quick and hard on the mouth.

  He released her hands and flashed a devil-may-care grin as he knelt at the blanket’s edge. “I guess you’re right. Suddenly my life doesn’t seem boring at all.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  They stumbled across the sand, smiling and laughing. But inside her chest, Annabelle’s heart was pounding.

  “Do you think we look tipsy?” she asked.

  “I hope so—I certainly feel foolish,” Mark replied. He slapped an arm around her waist with reckless abandon. In a few more steps they reached the relative safety of the car. Mark slid behind the wheel. Annabelle knelt in the passenger seat, placed their belongings in the back, and used the activity to hide her steady scrutiny of the beach as they pulled away.

  “Did he follow us?”

  “No.” Annabelle belted herself in and gave her curls a desultory shove off her face. “He’s still on the beach. It could be a good thing, or it could mean there’s simply a different man with transportation to tail us.”

  “There aren’t any other cars in the parking lot. Only the locals use this particular beach, and it doesn’t get much foot traffic. If there was anyone else around, they wouldn’t be hard to spot.” Mark executed a series of quick turns and then pulled down a dirt road.

  “Where are we?”

  “This exceptionally lovely stretch of road leads directly to the city dump. People do not, I repeat, do not ever use this road for joyriding. I figure it’s a safe enough spot for the moment.” He parked, but left the car running.

  Annabelle wrinkled her nose in distaste. “The dump? Can’t you think of anyplace better?”

  “First of all, the windows are up and the air conditioning’s on, so we won’t be overwhelmed by the smell. And second of all,” he drawled slowly, “I can’t come up with any place better until I get clued in. Until I know what direction we’re running away from, I can’t really figure out where we’ll be safe. Which means it’s time for you to level with me, darlin’.”

  Annabelle squared her shoulders and let out a deep breath. It wouldn't be easy, and he might not like her by the time she finished, but it was unavoidable.

  “You’re right. And I guess I have to start by apologizing.”

  Mark undid his seatbelt and turned to face her. “I think the only conversation starter worse i
s ‘we have to talk’. Go on—you might as well dive right in.”

  “I’m not a travel writer. I work for Hidden Story—the TV news magazine—as an investigative reporter.” She paused, but when Mark said nothing, she continued. “I came to Charleston on a story. I didn’t think I was making much headway until I realized someone was following me.”

  Mark shook his head. “Not good enough. You were scared out there on the beach. Sure, you were unflappable, professional and great in a crisis, but I could tell you were scared down to the bone. This isn’t just any story, is it?”

  She looked down at her lap. It was easier if she didn’t meet his gaze. “Officially—and by that I mean according to your less than helpful Charleston P.D.—it’s nothing more than two unconnected missing persons. Unofficially, considering the timing and the fact I’m now being followed, there’s a good chance it involves murder.” Annabelle’s breath caught on the word. She couldn’t personalize, not now. It couldn’t be about Vanessa, because if it was, she might curl into a ball and start crying. And falling apart wouldn’t help at all.

  Mark grabbed her chin and turned her to face him.

  “You’re telling me there may be people out there right now trying to kill you, and the only protection we have is the fact we’re parked at the town dump? When were you planning on spilling the beans? After the first bullet slammed through our picnic basket?”

  “Look, you have every right to be upset, but I didn’t say I knew anyone was trying to kill me. At least, not right now.”

  “Squabbling over semantics isn’t going to improve my mood one bit. As a matter of fact, the only thing that would make me feel better is if you spell out for me, nice and slow, every single thing there is to know about our current situation. And just to play it safe, go ahead and treat me like the dumb, good old boy you think I am. I want to be sure I don’t get confused somewhere in the middle.”

  Annabelle gaped at him. “I don’t know where you got the impression I think you’re—” She broke off at the fury smoldering in his black eyes. “Fine. I’ll start from the beginning.” Speaking quickly and concisely, she laid out the whole story. He didn’t interrupt or ask questions, but let her get it all out. She was compelled to finish with another apology.

  “You see, I barely had a trail to follow until today. The last thing I wanted to do was involve you, let alone put you in danger. I can look out for myself.”

  “Annabelle, scoot on over here.” He motioned with his head as if staring at something through the window. Curious, she angled her body towards the steering wheel.

  In a lightning-fast move, Mark put her in a head lock with his left arm, dragging her over the emergency brake onto his lap. With his right hand he pulled her hands high up behind her back, turning her so her back was against his chest. She thrashed her head wildly and tried to squirm away, but every movement only drove her locked hands painfully higher. Her heart pounded so fast she felt it trying to beat its way out of her body. Beneath her hips, Mark’s thighs were like iron, hard and unyielding.

  Annabelle lifted her legs in an attempt to kick out the front window, but stopped when he pressed his arm harder against her throat. Any move on her part would cut off all but the merest trickle of air. Her entire being focused on the dark, curling hair covering his arm.

  “Stop fighting me or you’ll get hurt,” he ordered. Immediately Annabelle let herself go limp. Accordingly, Mark let up the pressure on her neck, but kept his arm in place. Her panicked breaths came in long gasps.

  He whispered, his breath fanning her ear. “You don’t have any idea who is trying to kill you. You don’t have any idea what happened to your friends. No one knows you’re out here with me. And despite it all, you go ahead and blow your cover.” He released her hands and propped her back in her seat. “Darlin’, are you sure you’ve done this sort of thing before? Seems to me the bad guys could get to you without even breaking a sweat.” He readjusted the rear view mirror she’d knocked askew and started the car.

  Before the engine turned over, Annabelle reached across and yanked the keys out.

  “Let me get this straight. You assault me, practically strangle me, and scare a good ten years off my life just to make a point?”

  “It was an unbelievably stupid risk you took. I’m sure deep down you recognize that. And don’t exaggerate. You know I didn’t hurt you a bit. I’ve got a black belt in taekwondo, so I know how to incapacitate.” His voice was measured and matter-of- fact. “I also know I didn’t cross the line and injure you at all. Scared some sense into you, maybe. You ought to look into taking self-defense classes, if you get into this kind of trouble on a regular basis.”

  “Are you crazy?” she screamed. All the pent-up adrenaline of her fright transformed into righteous fury. Without hesitation, she plowed her fist into his stomach. His breath exploded, and he grabbed her hand just before she landed a second punch on his jaw.

  “I can see you didn’t like my tactics, but let’s call it even for now, all right?” With lips pursed and a glare capable of melting glaciers, she dropped her arm into her lap. He rubbed his stomach and winced. “That was some punch, Ms. Carlyle.”

  “I actually have taken some self-defense classes. You know, in case the bad guys ever catch me,” she said sardonically.

  “Nicked your ego, did I?”

  “No!”

  He gave an amused look at the vehemence of her retort.

  “Oh, all right,” she said grudgingly. “Maybe a little. But I always work alone. Having to worry about someone else puts a whole different perspective on things.”

  “Thanks, but I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself.”

  “I see.” She rubbed at her wrists where he’d held her. “However, my point is by coming clean with you, I didn’t take as big a risk as you may think. In my line of work you learn to not only trust your instincts, but always rely on them. I can’t quantify it or explain it.”

  It was crazy. Here she was, stuck in the dump of all places, and yet ready to open up like never before to this near-stranger. She could almost hear the snick as one of the padlocks on her heart fell open. She’d stalled long enough. It was time to leap forward with naked honesty.

  “Mark, you’re different from anyone I’ve ever met. So it wasn’t a risk, because deep down I knew I could trust you implicitly. Believe me, I don’t say that about many people, especially men.” She held her breath, unsure both of what sort of response to expect, and what she hoped to hear.

  Annabelle smiled a slow, sweet smile and all of Mark’s defenses dropped. It didn’t matter that murderers might be hot on their trail. His beautiful Annabelle trusted him. Sure, she’d been lying to him since they met, not to mention possibly risking his life. He could overlook all of it if she kept her angelic smile aimed at him.

  A particularly pungent whiff of the dump hit him and he shook his head. What a sap! Can the romance, Dering. It’s time for some action. He leaned over and gently brushed her lips with his. Her perfume, light and citrusy, invaded his senses. He rested his forehead against hers, then marshaled all his willpower to pull away. This wasn’t the time, and it damn sure wasn’t the right place.

  “Let’s go.” He retrieved the keys from her lap and started the car.

  “Where?”

  “After a long, leisurely drive to make certain we’re not being followed, I thought we’d hit the police station.” He backed down the rutted road and turned onto the highway.

  “The leisurely drive is fine, but then you’re going straight home.”

  “Why, did you already make a report?”

  There was a long pause before Annabelle answered him. “Not yet.”

  “Don’t you think this qualifies as new information? The police can help.”

  “And what exactly qualifies as new information? The fact I keep noticing a man with bad taste in clothes? Charleston is a small town; it isn’t beyond the realm of coincidence to see someone twice in one day. The police barely acknowledge Van
essa as a missing person. They won’t listen to me.”

  Mark was surprised to find she’d convinced him, but decided to take one more stab at a conventional response. “There has to be something they can do to help.”

  “They won’t talk to me about the missing person case, since I’m not family. I had to wait to get written authorization from the magazine’s legal department to pick up Vanessa’s belongings out of custody. The release came through before we left tonight. I’m headed over there later.”

  “Perfect timing.”

  She huffed and laid a hand on his thigh. “You aren’t listening to me. You can’t take me to the police, Mark. You should not be involved in this. I refuse to put you at more risk. Besides, this is my job. I can handle it by myself.” There was a note of cool pride in her voice.

  Mark ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. In any other situation he’d respect her decision, but this had all gone too far. He was already involved, whether she liked it or not. “Evidently you’re the one who hasn’t been listening. I’m a researcher. I chase down facts for a living. It isn’t exactly the same as what you do, but it’s close enough to help. Don’t shut me out. Lives are at stake.”

  “I know that,” she snapped back.

  “Then don’t let your Yankee pride get in the way. You need all the help you can get. Every little bit could make a difference; not just in finding your friends, but keeping yourself in one piece at the same time.” He thumped his hand on the steering wheel to emphasize his point.

  Given the seriousness of their discussion, he was caught off guard when Annabelle snickered.