Secret Admirer

by Cynthia Eden

  But he just set down his wine glass—still half full. “I enjoyed spending time with you tonight.”

  Was that it? He was just going to leave?

  One brow lifted as Zander asked, “Walk me out?”

  “Of course.” She put down her wine and scrambled to her feet. He was being a gentleman, not pushing for anything…more from her. That was good. He’d always been very courteous with her. Charming. Nice. She hurried toward the door, but his hand flew out and caught hers. He lifted her hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to the back of her knuckles.

  “You spilled a little wine.” Another kiss against her skin. “Tastes as sweet as you.”

  And it was hard for Alice to breathe again. Desire flooded through her. Made her want to taste him again. Sweet wasn’t the way she’d describe Zander’s taste.

  Alice didn’t move, though. She knew better than to take what she wanted.

  He released her hand. Zander’s gaze searched hers. “You don’t need to be afraid of me.”

  “I was really wrong about a man before. I don’t want to be wrong again.” A stark answer.

  Zander shook his head. “I want to keep you safe. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  There were lots of ways to be hurt.

  “Did he…did he hurt you, Alice?” Zander’s voice had dropped to a low, lethal tone.

  She knew about all the stories that had circulated in the newspapers. It would have been impossible to miss them. Some of the tales had claimed that she’d been Hugh’s secret partner. The lover who craved his dark side and helped him commit his brutal kills. Other stories had painted her as the tragic victim. The woman who’d quietly suffered abuse and torture at Hugh’s hands. The woman who hadn’t been free until he’d died.

  The truth, though, was that she wasn’t either of those women. She hadn’t known what Hugh was doing, and Hugh had never hurt her. At least… “Not physically. But he sure as hell did a number on my mind.” Hardly the sort of first date talk that Zander typically received.

  Why wasn’t he running from her as fast as he could?

  Zander’s head cocked to the right. “You had no idea what Hugh was doing?”

  Her stomach twisted. “If I knew, I never would have agreed to marry the guy.” Her breath came out on a hard release. “They looked like me.” A soft whisper.

  Zander’s jaw locked. His eyes narrowed.

  But she drew herself up, straightening her shoulders. Thunder rumbled again. “Thank you for a lovely night.” Then, before she lost her courage, Alice darted forward. She pressed a quick kiss to Zander’s lips.

  A start of surprise rolled through him. He reached for her, but she’d already retreated. “I think you can beat the rain home.” She opened the door. Alice could smell the rain in the distance as she walked onto her porch. The old wood groaned beneath her feet.

  Zander followed her out. “I’m not Hugh Collins.”

  Thank God.

  “I’m not some crazed killer who is going to screw with your head. That’s not what this is about.”

  Alice glanced back at him. “Why do you want to be bothered with me and my baggage?” She’d tried to warn him, again and—

  He brought his body closer to her. Barely a breath separated them. “It’s not a fucking bother. I like you. I want to get to know you.”

  Her lips started to curl. How long had it been since someone told her that? Since a man hadn’t looked at her as if she was the freak in the room? Zander stared at her with a clear, steady gaze, and Alice felt normal. Like she could almost have a regular life again.

  His head bent, and he pressed a kiss to her lips. Her mouth parted for him, and his tongue slid inside. The man sure knew how to kiss. She could feel her toes curling in her strappy shoes. Her hands rose and pressed to his chest. A strong, muscled chest. Zander was a big guy, tall and muscled, and there was just something about him…

  He slowly eased back. Zander stared at her a moment in the darkness. “I’ll see you again soon, Alice.” Then he was heading away, striding off the porch and into the night as lightning flashed in the dark sky.

  She didn’t go back inside, not yet. She watched him, and she became aware of a warmth flaring in her chest. At first, she didn’t even realize what that warmth was because it had been so long since she’d felt…

  Happy.

  ***

  “I feel like a fucking asshole.” Zander stalked the confines of his cabin like a caged tiger, his phone clenched tightly in his hand. “She was sweet and kind, and she was freaking worried about me. Trying to make sure I understood what the hell I was getting myself into just by having one date with her.”

  He couldn’t get the image of Alice’s smile out of his mind. And the woman’s taste…he’d never had anything sweeter. When he’d kissed her, he’d never expected to go from zero to fuck, yes, in a matter of seconds. But something had ignited inside of him. A deep, twisting hunger…

  For her.

  He’d known Alice was attractive. Beautiful. Sexy. He hadn’t known that his dick would stand up and applaud the second she kissed him. He also hadn’t known…

  “I don’t like lying to her.” It was her eyes. So deep. When she looked at him, it was like she was staring into his soul. “If we’re wrong and she wasn’t working with Hugh, then I’m just screwing with some innocent woman’s head.” And he’d told her he wouldn’t do that. He’d fucking told her! “The FBI has been invading her life—”

  “We’ve got warrants and legal paperwork out the ass to cover us,” Randall cut in. “You know I wouldn’t have let anyone step so much as a foot into her cabin otherwise.”

  “We’ve been sabotaging—”

  “Five dead women. Five. Those five were tied to Hugh Collins. But what about victim six? What the hell about her? Julianna Stiles died two months ago, and everything I’ve got is pointing to the killer being the Secret Admirer. Only a dead man can’t kill.”

  Sonofabitch. “Alice seems innocent.”

  “And I told you, don’t fall for a pretty face. She got two calls tonight—fucking two that traced back to the burner phone that was used to contact Julianna’s family.”

  Every muscle in Zander’s body locked down. “What?”

  “You know we’re monitoring her line. And folks might like to think burner phones are untraceable, but that shit is just wrong. We recognized the number that called Alice. Same fucking burner phone used with Julianna. We were triangulating the signal, but Alice was smart enough not to talk long enough for us to get a lock on the caller—”

  “I got the second call. I answered it. Not her.” Zander just hadn’t realized what the hell had been happening. “No one said a damn word to me when I answered. The caller didn’t speak.”

  “Did you hear any sounds? Breathing? Background noise?” Randall pounced.

  Zander cracked the blinds and stared into the darkness. The storm was close now, so very close. “No, nothing. But I’ll tell you this…when she got the first call, it made her nervous.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because when Alice gets nervous, she uses her left hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. It’s a dead giveaway. She picked up the phone, all normal, but when the caller didn’t speak, she got spooked.”

  “She could have gotten spooked because you were there when her partner made contact.”

  Randall wanted Alice to be the bad guy. Her being bad would make the case much easier. They could swoop in, lock her up, get her to roll on anyone who’d helped her…and no more dead women. Case finally closed. But Zander wasn’t so sure. “I don’t think she’s a killer.”

  “And why the hell not? Because she’s got pretty blue eyes? Because she can kiss well? And, yeah, we saw you making out on her porch. Gave our surveillance crew quite the show, Z.”

  “Stop being a dick.” A curt demand.

  Silence.

  Zander sucked in a sharp breath. “She doesn’t play as the killer to me. She seems nice.”

&nbs
p; “So did Bundy. Why else do you think he had such an easy time getting to his targets? Look, dammit, Hugh didn’t kill her even though Alice fit his victim profile to a T. There’s something about her that we’re missing. We have to figure out what that shit is.” Randall’s sigh carried over the phone. “Tell me you learned something useful tonight.”

  Other than the damn phone call? The two calls that were making his stomach knot. “We’ve been in her place before. You searched it. You know she’s not hiding anything there.”

  “But her guard was lowered with you. Did she say anything about Collins? Did you push her?”

  Zander could see the faint lights from her cabin. “She’s still freaked because the victims looked like her. When she told me that, I could see guilt on her face. Like she blamed herself because they died.”

  “Or…maybe she felt guilty because she was in on their deaths.”

  The guy had her tried and convicted in his mind. “I don’t like the phone calls.” Zander glared into the night. “You’re sure they came from the same burner phone?” Julianna’s parents had received one call right after their daughter had been taken. A robotic voice had told them that the caller “admired” their daughter. And then…five days later, another call had come through for the desperate parents. This time, the caller had told them where to find the body. The distorted voice had given them directions, then simply said, “She wasn’t perfect.”

  And when the Feds had found Julianna’s remains, no, she hadn’t been perfect any longer—because the bastard who’d hurt her had tortured her before he’d put his knife in her heart.

  “We’re sure it was the same phone. The same person who called your precious Alice tonight also called Julianna’s parents.”

  When Alice had received her calls, Unknown Caller had appeared on her phone’s screen. But, just because that phrase had appeared, it sure as shit didn’t mean you couldn’t figure out who the hell had just called. Especially when you were the FBI.

  “Zander.” Frustration beat in Randall’s voice. “Alice May has never been a target before.”

  “She wasn’t a target to Hugh. But Hugh is lying in a cemetery outside of Savannah. This guy hunting now—this copycat—” His suspicion. Zander thought they were looking for some wannabe who’d gotten confidential information about the case—information that hadn’t been given to the Press. Like the fact that rose petals were sprinkled around the dead bodies. That bit had never been released. The killer had carefully arranged red rose petals around his victims. Rose petals just like the ones that had been found at the church where Alice had planned to marry Hugh Collins. “If we are dealing with a copycat, then wouldn’t the guy’s ultimate prize be Alice? I mean, hell, killing her could be like paying homage to Hugh.” Zander had seen plenty of twisted shit like that during his time in the FBI’s violent crimes division. Folks got fixated on killers. They wanted to emulate them. To be them.

  Thunder rumbled.

  “You’ve got eyes on her place, right?” Zander pushed. He couldn’t stand the idea of Alice being in her cabin, all alone. Not if some freak was targeting her. Not if she was—

  “Oh, we’ve got eyes on her…”

  The rain had started to fall. It came down in quick, hard torrents.

  “And she’s on the move.”

  “What?”

  “Your Ms. Innocent left her cabin, in the rain, in the middle of the night, and she’s running toward your place. Yeah, that screams I’m-Not-Hiding anything to me. What about you?”

  What in the hell? “I’ll call you back.” He slammed down the phone. He could hear the rain pounding into his roof. Why would Alice be running around in the storm? He bounded toward the door. He hurried outside as thunder boomed overhead.

  His gaze scanned the darkness. It took fifteen minutes to walk to her place. If she was running, she’d cut that time in half. How long ago had she left her cabin? He hadn’t asked Randall. And shit, if he was just standing outside of his place, wouldn’t that look suspicious to her? He should go back in his cabin. Wait and see if she came to him.

  What if she isn’t coming to me, though? What if she’s going into the woods to meet someone else? A…partner?

  He had to check this out. But he hadn’t grabbed his flashlight. Or his gun. He whirled back for his cabin and rushed inside. The door slammed behind him. He got the flashlight and—

  A knock sounded at his door. Zander stiffened. Then he was jerking open that door as fast as he could. Lightning lit up the sky.

  Alice stood on his narrow porch. Soaking wet, with raindrops sliding off her coat. Her wet hair clung to her cheeks, and she stared up at him with eyes he’d never be able to forget, not in a thousand years.

  “Alice? What are you doing?” Zander pulled her inside. “You shouldn’t be out in this storm. You shouldn’t—”

  She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Stood on her tip-toes. And kissed him. She tasted sweeter than the wine they’d had that night. She tasted like the rain. She tasted like fucking heaven.

  He should back away from her. He should absolutely not kiss her like a starving man. He should not pull her closer, pressing his overeager dick against her.

  “I want you,” Alice whispered.

  Damn. He was in trouble.

  “I thought about you after you left…about how I haven’t felt this way in a long time.” She eased back a few inches, and she stared up at him. “Do you ever feel afraid, Zander?”

  He didn’t know what to say. His gaze had fallen to her mouth, and he was trying to figure out what to—

  “Because I spend most of my days trying not to be afraid. And then you came along. When I’m with you, everything seems different.”

  It was different because he was lying to her.

  “Don’t give up on me.”

  He blinked. His stare locked with hers. “I wasn’t planning—”

  “That’s what I ran through the storm to tell you.” Her smile flashed, and it lit her eyes. “I wasn’t always this crazy woman who barely leaves her house. I wasn’t this woman who is afraid of her own shadow. I used to be so much more, and I’m trying—trying really hard—to be her again.”

  His chest ached. “Alice…”

  “I like you. You’re funny and you’re smart, and you bring me cupcakes.” She stood on her toes once more and kissed him. Alice gave a delighted laugh. “I’ve missed this. So much. Missed wanting someone. Missed just being normal.” Alice shook her head. “And I probably sound like an absolutely deranged person to you right now.” Red stained her cheeks as she retreated a few, quick steps. “I—”

  He wasn’t letting her go. She didn’t sound deranged. She sounded strong. Resilient. Sexy as fuck. He stalked forward as she retreated, and he caged her between his body and the hard wood wall. “You’re not leaving.”

  Her breath hitched.

  “The storm is too bad. I can’t let you go back out in it.” He swallowed and grabbed his control with both hands. “You’re staying here tonight.”

  Her eyes widened. “It’s not—”

  The lights went out even as more thunder boomed.

  “Sweetheart,” Zander said in the darkness as he inhaled her delicate scent, “there’s no way you’re leaving me tonight.”

  Chapter Three

  She’d acted on impulse. Mad, crazy impulse. And she’d run to see Zander. She’d been in her home, the storm had been coming…and she’d needed to see him one more time.

  It felt as if she’d been sleeping for the last twelve months. Then finally, finally, she’d woken up.

  Tomorrow was the one-year anniversary of Hugh’s death. Actually…it was the anniversary. Midnight had already come. It was tomorrow.

  Alice hadn’t been able to stand being alone in her cabin as she stared at the clock. She’d run to Zander. To the man who had been there for her, over and over again during the last two months. Her friend.

  Her…lover?

  Maybe. Who knew what could—

&nbs
p; “You’re taking my bed.”

  Her head snapped up at his low, deep voice. Alice knew she wasn’t exactly thinking clearly. Or acting clearly. The fact that it was the anniversary of her wedding day, of Hugh’s death…yeah, she was a hot mess.

  One thing was certain, though—she wasn’t going to hide from the things she wanted any longer.

  And she wanted Zander.

  He stood about three feet in front of her, a determined look on his handsome face, his arms crossed over his chest. She’d ditched her rain coat—after leaving a dripping trail across his wooden floor. Despite wearing the rain coat, her t-shirt was soaked, and her wet jeans clung tightly to her. She’d already taken off her squeaky tennis shoes and her socks. She’d left them near his front door. The power had been off for about ten minutes. Zander had grabbed a flashlight, and he’d been reaching for candles—but then the lights had flashed back on in his cabin.

  “You can dry off in my bathroom upstairs. I have a t-shirt you can wear.” His gaze had darted down her body, but he suddenly whipped his stare up—and away from her. “And you can sleep in my bed.”

  She wasn’t the type of woman to try and seduce a man on the first date. And it had been their first date. But then again, she also wasn’t the type of woman to fall for a serial killer so…

  Hello. Been there. Done that.

  So maybe it was time to start something new. Time to be someone new. “Where will you sleep?”

  “The couch.”

  Her stare darted to said couch. It hardly looked big enough to hold his long frame. “I don’t want to kick you out of your bed.” She focused on him again. “I can go back to my place.”

  “Hell, no. Not in this weather.”

  Alice shrugged and tucked a lock of wet hair behind her ear. “Then I can take the couch.”

  His fierce expression softened a little bit. “Sweetheart, my mother raised me to be a gentleman. No way will a lady ever sleep on a lumpy couch while my ass is spread out on a king-sized bed.”

  “Well, if it’s king-sized, then there should be enough room for us both.” There. She’d said it. She’d just put that out right in the open.