Hell on Heels

by Carla Cassidy

  She wanted to think that she could have handled the situation on her own, but there was no doubt Luke’s presence there had kept her cover from being blown and had probably helped contain the situation.

  “I was at Joey’s when Monica came back from supper. She told me she’d met you and I decided to get some dinner and see if you were still there.” He paused a moment to take a drink. He tilted his head back and she noticed not only the whiskers on the underside of his jaw, but also the smooth, tanned skin of his throat.

  Why was she so acutely aware of everything about him? She’d never before noticed the faint scar on the left side of his forehead or the length of his dark lashes. She frowned and tried to focus on the conversation, not the man.

  He set the glass back down then continued. “When I drove by I saw those two punks just outside. My gut instinct told me they were up to no good and I never ignore my gut instinct. I parked in the back and went in through the kitchen entrance and waited to see what might happen.”

  Chantal rubbed two fingers in the center of her forehead, where a headache threatened to appear. “Do I need to call the police? It’s my bullet the doctors are going to dig out of that leg.”

  “No. I took care of everything. If the authorities have any questions they’ll call me.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Don’t thank me.” Again the corner of his mouth curved upward in a half smile “I’ve got to admit, you surprised me in there.”

  “Surprised you how?”

  “You stayed calm, stayed low and stayed in control.”

  She flashed him her best smile despite the fact that his words irritated her. What had he expected from her? Hysterics and tears? “I told you I was good.”

  “It’s going to be interesting to see just how good you are,” he replied. There was something in his smooth deep tone, something in his eyes that made her wonder if he wasn’t talking about something other than bounty hunting…something more delicious, something more dangerous.

  He lifted his glass and took another drink. “You need to figure out what you’re going to do about this threat of Mundy’s.”

  “I intend to take your advice,” she said.

  Once again, one of his dark eyebrows rose. “What advice?”

  “You told me to take a vacation, to get out of town until things cooled down. That’s exactly what I’m doing tomorrow morning.”

  “You’re taking a vacation?” There was the faintest hint of suspicion in his gaze. “Where are you headed?”

  “Paris,” she lied. Even though he’d helped her out tonight that didn’t mean she owed him anything. “I figured I’d do a little shopping, maybe visit the Louvre and just relax for a couple of weeks.”

  She held his gaze, hoping he wouldn’t see the lie there. The last thing she wanted was for him to know she had a possible lead on Willowby.

  At that moment Sam made an appearance. The cat entered the kitchen with a plaintive meow and ran to Luke’s feet. Luke leaned down and scooped up the cat, who purred with audible pleasure. “What’s his name?”

  “Sam. I can’t believe he’s so friendly with you. He hates me.”

  Amusement lightened Luke’s eyes. “Maybe he’s just playing hard to get.”

  “I’m not into playing those kinds of games,” she replied.

  Heat flashed through her as his gaze left her face and settled momentarily on her breasts, then returned to her face. It wasn’t an overt leer, but rather appeared to be a natural male assessment of a female. Her nipples tightened in response and the tension in her stomach renewed itself.

  “Interesting, I thought all women played games.” He set the cat on the floor.

  “Well, I don’t,” she replied, wondering how the conversation had gone from Sam’s name to something more personal.

  She felt the need to escape him before things got any more personal. She looked at her watch, then back at him. “And now, I hate to be rude, but I need to finish packing for my trip tomorrow.”

  He tipped his glass and drained it, then stood. “I’ve got to admit, things won’t be as much fun around here with you gone,” he said as he followed her back to the front door.

  “I’m sure you’ll manage just fine without me,” she said dryly.

  He paused at the front door, that infuriatingly sexy smile on his lips again. He took a step closer to her, so close she could smell the tangy lime and biting gin on his breath. For just a brief, insane moment she wanted to lean forward and taste his mouth. Instead she took a step backward.

  “Between now and the time you get on your plane in the morning you watch your ass, because personally I think it’s a damned fine ass.”

  She watched speechlessly as he walked toward his truck in her driveway and wondered why in the hell her heart pounded as frantically now as it had when she’d had two masked men firing guns at her?

  There was nothing better than a seat in first class on a plane carrying you to a sandy beach south of the border, Chantal thought as she eased down in aisle three, seat A.

  She intended to sleep through the entire flight, especially since what little sleep she’d gotten the night before had been haunted by dreams…terrible dreams.

  In the first nightmare of the night she’d dreamed that Marcus Willowby was fixing her breakfast. As he stood at the stove stirring a skillet filled with scrambled eggs, a video camera had whirred in the background. She’d sat at the kitchen table totally naked and unable to move as the camera captured every moment of the event.

  “If you tell,” he said in the dream, “nobody will believe you. This is nothing more than a pity breakfast. You’re nothing but average and nobody will ever believe I made you bacon and eggs.”

  That dream had faded only to be replaced by another, equally disturbing one. This time Belinda cried Chantal’s name over and over again as Willowby chased her through a bathroom as big as a house.

  Each time Marcus managed to touch Belinda, she seemed to fade, like a photograph left out in the sun for years. Chantal knew if she didn’t stop him, Belinda would be gone.

  She’d awakened with a gasp, damp with sweat and her heart beating a million miles a minute. She’d been unable to go back to sleep in spite of the early-morning hour.

  Now, all she wanted was this seat, a pair of headphones with some light easy-listening music and a person sitting next to her who wanted privacy and quiet as much as she did.

  She grabbed the in-flight magazine and flipped through the pages as the plane continued to fill with passengers. She stifled a yawn and checked her watch.

  Fifteen minutes and the plane would be taking off, carrying her to the small resort town of Tamillo. It wasn’t a direct flight. They’d land in Mexico City, then she’d board a smaller plane bound for Tamillo.

  She closed the magazine in her lap and leaned her head back and shut her eyes. She tried not to think about the shooting the day before, the worry that had darkened Harrah’s eyes as she’d told Chantal goodbye and that damnable Luke who had kept her tossing and turning in her bed before the nightmares had begun.

  Okay, so he’d said she had a nice ass. She didn’t have a problem with him thinking she had a nice ass, she had a problem with the fact that she was oddly pleased he thought she had a nice ass.

  She was willing to admit that even though she thought he was arrogant and needed a complete make-over, he intrigued her on some base level.

  She checked her watch once again. Five minutes to takeoff. Maybe first class wasn’t full and the seat next to her would remain empty. That was fine with her. That meant she could sprawl and not worry about bumping elbows or thighs with a stranger.

  Although the trip was prompted by her desire to find Willowby, she intended to work in some beach time as well. Chantal loved the beach and Kansas City certainly offered none of the beach life to its residents.

  Again she opened the magazine in her lap and thumbed through the pages, at the same time imagining the sound of the pounding surf, the heat of the sun
on her skin.

  She looked up to see him step through the doorway and into the plane. Shock stabbed through her along with disbelief. What was he doing here?

  Luke offered her a full smile of amusement as he made his way down the aisle. He was dressed in a pair of worn jeans and a blue-flowered Hawaiian shirt, and he carried a small leather attaché with him.

  No! A voice in her head screamed in protest as she stared at him in open-mouthed shock. It had to be a hallucination. Please, let him be a figment of my imagination.

  To her utter horror he sank down in the seat next to her, shoved the attaché beneath the seat, then looked at her with a chiding amusement.

  “Paris, my ass,” he said.

  Chapter 7

  “How…how did you…what did you…” Chantal sputtered like one of her father’s motor boats just hitting the water without enough gasoline in the tank.

  “How did I know you were going to Mexico?” He held her astonished gaze with a look of lazy amusement. “I’d like to tell you that I have the same contacts you do, but that wouldn’t be the truth.”

  “Then how…”

  “I saw your plane ticket last night on the kitchen counter and figured if you were going to Tamillo, Mexico, there must be something…or someone interesting down there.”

  “That’s despicable,” Chantal finally managed to get out a sentence, even if it was only a two-word one.

  “On the contrary, it’s how I work.” He grabbed his seat belt and buckled it over his slim hips. “You know, in this business you use whatever means necessary to get the information you need.”

  “You aren’t stealing this one from me,” she exclaimed. “You might be in the same city as me, but if Willowby is there, I’m going to be the one bringing him in.”

  She turned her gaze toward the window. He might be going to Tamillo, but the minute the plane touched down she intended to lose him.

  She wasn’t about to lead him to another capture he could steal from her. And when I get home I’m going to fire Harrah for leaving that ticket on the counter where Luke could see it, she thought even though she knew she’d do no such thing.

  She couldn’t believe he was here, couldn’t believe that she’d have to suffer his nearness for the duration of the flight.

  The plane engines began to wind up, the humming noise filling the cabin. She glanced at Luke and saw him curl his fingers over the ends of the armrests as the plane began to back away from the airport building.

  She stared at his hand. He had long fingers and his nails were clean and neatly clipped. But what surprised her was that he gripped the armrest so tightly his knuckles were white.

  Fear.

  With surprise she shot a glance at his face. A muscle ticked in his jaw and his mouth was a grim, taut slash.

  He was afraid. Big, bad bounty hunter Crazy Luke Coleman was afraid of flying.

  A wicked delight swept through her as she digested this bit of information. “There’s nothing better than being on a plane a hundred miles above the earth,” she mused aloud. “Soaring with the eagles in a steel cylinder that by all rights shouldn’t be able to lift off the ground.”

  He said nothing, but the muscle in his jaw ticked faster as the engines whined in pre-takeoff fervor.

  Chantal settled back in her seat and smiled. “Up, up, up in the big, blue sky,” she continued. “No strings attached and…”

  “Shut up, Chantal,” he said and flashed her a dark look that held not only a dangerous warning, but also a subtle plea.

  She shut up. That single moment of vulnerability shining from his eyes made it impossible for her to tease him anymore. It would be like kicking a little puppy dog. This thought made her shake her head in amazement. Who would have ever thought she’d consider Luke as innocent as a puppy?

  They didn’t speak again until the plane had left the ground and had stopped climbing. His fingers relaxed their hold on the end of the armrest and he released a deep, audible sigh.

  “I’ve never liked to fly,” he said.

  “It’s safer than driving a car.”

  “Yeah, well, in a car I’m in control. Up here I’m not.”

  She should have known it was a control issue. She had a feeling Luke Coleman was a man who prided himself on always being in control.

  The irritation that had momentarily died beneath the knowledge of his fear reappeared. “How do you know I’m not headed to Tamillo just to spend some time on the beach and relax and wait for Mundy to cool down?”

  “Because if that was the case you wouldn’t have lied to me about where you were going. Because I get the feeling you’re taking this Willowby thing way too personally and that’s definitely dangerous in this line of work.”

  “Why on earth would you think that?” She eyed him coolly, not about to share with him just how personal Willowby’s capture had become to her. “I’m a bounty hunter, hunting skips is what I do. Willowby is no different than any other criminal I’d go after.”

  “But that’s where you’re wrong.” Whatever else he was about to say was pre-empted by the captain speaking over the intercom system.

  Chantal turned her head and stared out the window as the captain droned on with his welcome speech. She couldn’t believe Luke was not only on his way to Mexico but seated next to her for the ride. How in the hell had he managed that?

  Damn, if only that airplane ticket hadn’t been out on her kitchen counter the night before. If only the shooting in Danny’s hadn’t occurred and he hadn’t come to her place. If only he hadn’t been able to get a seat on this plane.

  Even with her gaze out the window she was acutely conscious of him next to her, far too close to her for comfort. She could smell him, that clean male scent of minty soap, spicy cologne and fresh-scented shampoo.

  She supposed she should be grateful he’d obviously bathed before boarding the plane. She’d once spent a long plane ride seated next to a man who’d smelled like a sweaty armpit. It had been horrendous.

  What was it about him that twisted her insides into knots? She wanted to believe it was intense dislike, but she knew that wasn’t it at all. She didn’t know him well enough to dislike him completely.

  Whenever he was near she felt as if she couldn’t draw quite enough air. Her heart beat just a little faster and she felt slightly flustered, slightly breathless.

  The captain finally finished his spiel and she looked at Luke once again. “What do you mean I’m wrong about Willowby being like any other criminal?” she said, picking up their conversation where it had stopped before the interruption.

  “The men you’ve been chasing for the past eight months have been small change.” He bent down and reached for the attaché beneath the seat and placed it on his lap. “They’ve not been especially bright, without any real resources and fairly predictable. Willowby is none of those things.”

  “I know that,” she replied tersely. “I’ve done my homework.”

  He unzipped the case to reveal a laptop computer. It surprised her. She’d never have guessed him as a computer kind of guy. “What do you do with that? Visit porn sites?” she asked dryly.

  “Yeah, and I’ve got to say, that last picture of yourself that you posted didn’t do you justice.”

  “Ha ha,” she replied.

  He quirked a dark eyebrow. “You want to ask stupid questions, I’ll give you stupid answers.”

  Her cheeks warmed and she decided it was definitely intense dislike that she felt for him. She watched as he turned on the computer and pulled up a file.

  She was stunned, stunned that he not only had a computer but that the file he pulled up appeared to contain background material on Marcus Willowby. In spite of her reluctance to have anything to do with him, she leaned closer to him to peek at the file.

  “This guy is definitely not your garden-variety creep,” Luke said. “He spent all of his college years on the dean’s list and considered going to medical school. He toyed with the idea of becoming a psychiatrist.”


  “Where did you hear that?” she asked with interest.

  “You have your sources, I have mine.”

  “Can you imagine,” she mused. “Dr. Marcus Willowby with the power to prescribe medication to women seeking help. If he’d become a psychiatrist he could have drugged them into unconsciousness and done them in his office.” The thought sickened her.

  Luke’s expression showed her that he felt the same way. “I can’t imagine why a guy would want an unconscious partner for sex.”

  “If you had sex with Brandy Hamilton then surely you came as close to that experience as a man can.”

  He laughed, a low smooth sound that twisted the knot in her stomach even tighter. “Careful, Chantal, I’ll think you’re jealous.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she scoffed and straightened up in her seat once again. “I couldn’t care less who you sleep with.”

  “Or don’t sleep with,” he replied. “I’ve had my share of conquests, but Brandy Hamilton isn’t one of them. Actually, I’m a friend of her father and Brandy definitely isn’t my type. But she was useful as a companion at that fundraiser. Anyway, back to Willowby. My original point is that he’s brighter and more calculating than most criminals.”

  “And this is supposed to worry me?”

  He frowned and shut down the computer. “If you find him, what’s your plan?”

  “Plan?” she repeated evasively.

  His frown deepened. “You don’t have a plan?”

  “Of course I do,” she snapped. “My plan is to sleep for the rest of this airplane ride.” She lowered her seat, turned her face toward the window and shut her eyes.

  She didn’t need Luke Coleman trying to freak her out where Willowby was concerned. She knew Willowby might be dangerous. Luke thought he knew everything, but he wouldn’t be on this plane if he hadn’t seen her ticket on the counter.

  She might have fallen asleep if they hadn’t begun serving lunch, although lunch was a relative term. There was only one thing that would make her put up with Luke and that was the promise of food.