Undercover Fiance

by Sheryl Lynn

  “That sounds insane, Mr. Tucker.”

  “Call me Daniel, ma’am.” He wanted to call her Mom. “Pinky isn’t insane. He is deluded, though, and dangerous.”

  “Is he dangerous to our guests?”

  “He’s dangerous to anyone he believes stands between him and Janine. That’s where I come in.” He caught Janine’s eye and winked. “Trust me, I’m paid well to put myself in the line of fire.”

  Chapter Five

  Deep in thought, Janine headed for her office. Anger tensed her up inside, made worse because she couldn’t figure out why. The party would commence; her father wouldn’t shut down the resort or fire anyone without cause. She had what she wanted.

  Perhaps it was the sense she got from her father that he’d discovered a soul mate in Daniel. Perhaps it was the adoring smiles her mother and sister had focused on him. Or perhaps she plain hated admitting she had a problem she couldn’t solve herself. A nagging inner voice called her jealous that Daniel had so smoothly coaxed her family over to his side.

  The official from the EPA stood in front of her office. She apologized for making him wait. A thin, sour-looking man, he snorted brusquely. He had a stack of forms for her to fill out. Acting as if she set the fire for the express purpose of polluting the environment, he gave her the option of hiring a private expert to test the soil around the burn site for contaminants, or the EPA would conduct the testing and bill her for the service.

  Another black mark against Pinky. Like a volcano he’d exploded and now the tsunamis struck in the aftermath.

  After the EPA official left her office, Daniel said, “When bureaucrats die do you think they’re reincarnated as locusts or as hyenas?”

  “I’m not in the mood for jokes.”

  “That was a serious question.”

  “I have a million things to do.”

  He leaned back on the sofa and hooked his arms behind his neck. “I like your family.”

  “Yeah, yeah, and they just adore you.” She placed her hand on the phone to call the insurance company. “You’re a regular chameleon, aren’t you?”

  “What does that mean?”

  “All that crap about battle strategies and guerrilla warfare?” She fluttered her eyelashes and placed a hand over her heart. ‘“They wouldn’t let me fight, so I just refused to join up to be a paper pusher.’ ‘I’m a student in the art of war.’ Gag! I needed a manure shovel in there!”

  His rich laughter filled the office, tempting her to escape her bad mood. “It’s called empathy. It’s a lot more effective than growling like a tiger guarding a kill.”

  She sneered. “It sounded phony to me.”

  “Nothing phony about getting a point across. I always try to understand the other person’s point of view.” He wagged an admonishing finger. “If you want to score points with your dad then quit trying to outshout him. Do what your mom does. Get calm and get quiet.”

  “I don’t need lectures from you.” Especially when he was right and she was wrong. A mind reader, she decided, intuiting her deepest longings to be serene and gracious. He probably thought she was a bad-tempered idiot. She felt like a bad-tempered idiot.

  The laugh lines deepened in his cheeks and around his eyes. “Unless you actually enjoy shouting. You do, don’t you?”

  “I do not.” The words were as weak as her conviction.

  “Do, too.”

  “Stop making fun of me.” She snatched up the telephone and punched numbers on the keypad.

  While she spoke to the insurance company about paying for an environmental inspection, Daniel scribbled on a sticky note. He stuck it on the telephone.

  The note read: “Sorry—not making fun.” She tossed the note in the wastebasket. He wrote another: “Strength comes in many forms—shout if you want to.” Envisioning her desk covered with sticky notes, she grabbed the notepad off the desk and dropped it in a drawer. She finished the phone call then faced Daniel. “Apology accepted. Please drop it.”

  “Fine by me. Can I see your employee records now?”

  She pulled the folders from the filing cabinet and handed them over.

  “You’re still angry with me,” he said. “Why?”

  Sighing, she slumped over the desk. Fatigue made her eyes scratchy. “If you had an ounce of sense you’d be angry, too. Pinky tried to murder us.”

  “Is that it?”

  “It’s enough.”

  He hummed a skeptical note and shook his head. “Nope, that’s not it. You’re mad at me.”

  “I am not.” She wished she could throw him out of the office—out of her life.

  “Hey, have I told you I’m psychic?” He pressed the pads of his index fingers against his temples and scowled in exaggerated concentration. “Ooh, the Great Tucker sees it all now.”

  She caught herself holding her breath, waiting for him to continue. Unable to stand the suspense, she cried, “What? What do you see?”

  “You’re angry because you got what you wanted. But, you needed me to get it” He waggled his eyebrows.

  “I am not jealous of you.”

  “Did I say anything about jealousy? But now that you mention it, are you jealous?”

  She hated the acid arcs cutting through her midsection. She hated herself for the anger, too. She should be gracious and grateful. “You don’t understand. I have to work so hard for everything. Then you waltz in there, and in thirty seconds my parents are looking at you as if you’re an angel descending on a light beam.”

  He nodded.

  “I know I’m...abrasive sometimes. But you would be, too, if you were part of this family.”

  “Seems like a nice family to me.”

  “That’s the problem. All of them are wonderful. My brother, Ross, is brilliant. He breezed through school, making straight As without even cracking a book. And you think you’re smooth? He invented the concept of charisma.”

  “Okay...”

  “Then there’s Kara. Everybody is her best friend, plus she’s artistic and creative. My other sister, Megan, well, whatever she wants, she gets.” She snapped her fingers. “Just like that. She’s married to a guy who thinks she walks on water.”

  She tried to shut up, she truly did, but the words spilled as if a balloon had burst inside her. “Trying to keep up with my father is impossible. He’s super smart and he knows everybody. He never gets tired. His standards are so high, I have to be Superwoman all the time.” She swept out a hand. “And then Mom. Oh, hell, you met her. She’s just plain perfect.”

  Feeling very sorry for herself, she caught herself pouting. She never pouted in public, but in a twisted sort of way, the complaining felt good. “Then there’s me.”

  “I’m having trouble following what exactly is wrong with being you.”

  “This.” She tapped herself on the nose. “I look like a bimbo. I’ve always looked like a bimbo. And nobody takes a bimbo seriously. I have to work twice as hard and get twice the results before anyone realizes I have a brain.”

  “I take you seriously.”

  “No, you don’t You’ve been flirting with me since we met.”

  “What’s wrong with that? I’m not being thick. Honest. But how come I can’t flirt and still respect you?”

  She opened her mouth for a snippy retort, but his question intrigued her. She’d never considered flirtation and respect as compatible.

  “I respect you. I take you seriously.” He cocked his head. “I also think you’re beautiful. No contradictions as far as I’m concerned.”

  “I hate being treated like a cardboard cutout.” Looking at him proved impossible. She doodled on a scratch pad. “I get sick of men treating me like a Barbie doll. Of women feeling threatened. I’ve never stolen a boyfriend or husband, but that’s what they think. People think I’m either a man-hungry bimbo or stuck-up.”

  Unhappy memories swamped her. Her father’s Army career had meant changing schools often while she grew up. Always the new girl, having to walk down halls while girls
clustered in hostile cliques, making catty remarks and starting vile rumors. Popular boys thinking she was easy; not-so-popular boys too intimidated to ask her out on dates. Teachers who treated her like a bubble-head. Her fairy-tale marriage to Eric complete with a tragic ending.

  “First impressions only last until second impressions kick in,” Daniel pointed out gently.

  She laughed in spite of herself. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve heard all day.”

  “But it’s true. First impressions are always about appearance. That’s human nature. You can’t take it personally.” He craned his neck as if trying to peer behind her desk. “Besides, the way you dress. You like looking good.”

  He had her there. She loved beautiful clothes. She enjoyed cosmetics and fixing her hair.

  “How about a deal,” he said. “I’ll stop calling you gorgeous, and you stop being mad at me.”

  The genuine sweetness in his face and voice were difficult to resist. “I get the distinct feeling you enjoy arguments.”

  “Debating champ in college. I’ve got the medals to prove it. So what do you say?”

  “You have a plan,” she said with a sigh. “I’ve agreed to the plan. Call me anything you want.”

  LAW OFFICIALS wrapped up their investigations by the end of the day. After sifting through the debris for evidence and finding nothing, and interviewing dozens of people without discovering a single eye witness or strong suspect, the law officials could do nothing further at Elk River. It would take weeks for crime analysts to compile reports concerning physical evidence found at the scene.

  The colonel made arrangements to hire Sergeant Mike Downes and another deputy in their off-duty hours. The deputies would patrol the resort and keep an eye out for trouble. Janine spent the day assuring the managerial staff that while an arsonist was in their midst, resort operations were to continue as normal, and she assured guests the garage fire was an accident despite any rumors to the contrary.

  By eight o’clock she was so exhausted she nearly fell asleep at her desk. Daniel wanted to have dinner in the restaurant. Didn’t he ever wear out? She refused to heed his arguments. They retired to her room.

  “I’ll arrange for a cot,” she said.

  “If you bring in a cot somebody is going to gossip about your boyfriend not sleeping in your bed.”

  “You aren’t sleeping in my bed.”

  He pointed to the couch. It was short, with only two cushions, but it would be more comfortable than the floor. “Your virtue is safe with me. Pretend I’m a German shepherd.”

  “Fine, whatever.” She sought sanctuary in the bathroom. She didn’t have pajamas since she’d always slept in the nude. She resigned herself to wearing a sweat suit to bed for the next few days.

  When she came out of the bathroom the sight of Daniel stopped her short. He’d made up a bed on the couch and now lounged atop the covers as he studied an employee file. He wore a pair of purple boxer shorts and nothing else.

  All her life she’d been surrounded by attractive men. Most women agreed her father and brother were exceptionally handsome. Her father’s troops had been young, virile and in good physical condition. Her ex-husband had looked like a Nordic god. But Daniel Tucker...

  His body was lean and perfectly proportioned, with muscles so chiseled and well defined he appeared to be carved from golden marble. Intrigued by the thick, yet graceful lines of his neck and the depth of muscle on his arms, she stared. Heaviness filled her midsection. Her breasts tingled and ached. Her mouth went dry.

  Visions of sex invaded her brain. Wild, romping, passionate sex. Noisy, sweaty, knock-the-mattress-off-the-bed sex. Touching every inch of his bronzed skin. Those big, powerful hands working magic on every inch of her skin. The sheer shock of desire startled her, dismayed her... excited her.

  He looked up. Heat bloomed on her cheeks.

  “Yes?” he asked.

  “You’re in your...your...underwear.”

  “No jammies,” he said. He resumed studying the file. “I’m not spending another night in my jeans. We’re grown-ups, so no offense, right?”

  She glanced down at her heavy sweatshirt and long fleece pants. She ought to prance around in panties and see how he liked that.

  “Don’t you—” She bit her lower lip. She would not, no matter how provoked, act like a silly girl. At thirty-five, a grown woman in full control of her faculties, she refused to lust after any man. She forced a smile. “The bathroom is yours, Mr. Tucker. Good night.”

  “Mind if I do some reading?”

  “I don’t care if you practice the bass drum in a marching band.”

  She crawled under the covers and pulled a pillow over her head. No matter how tightly she squeezed her eyelids shut she kept seeing those damned purple boxer shorts... and that lean, muscular, incredible body.

  “WE CAN ELIMINATE these four, too,” Daniel said. He tossed employee files on Janine’s desk. “Too old.”

  Janine slipped the folders back into the filing cabinet. She slid a weary glance at her desk. Her rule was, handle each piece of paper only once. Receive it, act upon it, then either file it or throw it away. Normally by day’s end her desk was clean. At the moment her In box overflowed. After spending hours with insurance adjustors plus handling the usual resort business, plus jumping at every shadow and looking over her shoulder for another attack by Pinky, it had been a long, stressful day. Having Daniel Tucker clinging to her like a burr hadn’t helped matters any.

  She’d introduced him to many of the employees. No one could have guessed his intentions by his smiles and interested questions.

  While in public he insisted on holding her hand. She couldn’t even recall the last time she’d walked hand in hand with a man. Though ridged with calluses, his hands were surprisingly graceful. She kept reminding herself his displays of affection meant nothing personal. She made herself think about Elliot. Nice, reliable Elliot who made no demands and never shook up her life. Sweet Elliot about whom she’d never suffered a single sexual fantasy.

  “What has age got to do with anything?” she asked.

  “The kind of personality disorders that lead to stalking show up at a young age. Nobody decides to suddenly start stalking on his thirtieth birthday. Antisocial behavior leads to problems with the law. Since nobody has a criminal record I think we can safely assume Pinky is fairly young.”

  She pointed with her chin at the folders he’d retained. “You can eliminate the women, too.”

  “Not yet.”

  “Pardon?”

  He chuckled. “This isn’t about sexual desire. Pinky’s letters lack sexual overtones even when he writes about your appearance and how you dress. It could be he’s put you on such a high pedestal that sex would be profane. Or, we could be dealing with a woman who is identifying with you. Sort of the way little girls fall in love with fashion dolls and supermodels.”

  “Oh.” A shudder rippled along her spine. A male secret admirer was creepy enough. Imagining a woman lusting after her life put a sour taste in her mouth.

  “On the other hand, Pinky’s powerful reaction to me says he’s probably a guy.” He divided the folders into two stacks. He placed a hand atop the taller stack. “These employees deal with the public on a regular basis. It’s possible he functions well enough to make customers happy and still keep an eye on you, but I doubt it.”

  He shifted his hand to the short stack. “These people are more likely. Four in maintenance, four in housekeeping, a wrangler and a kitchen helper.”

  She interrupted with a laugh. “Are you talking about Devon Hightower?”

  “He’s the one.”

  “If he’s obsessed with anything, it’s horses. I don’t think he’s spoken five words to me since he started working here.”

  He regarded the stack of folders through narrowed eyes. “Have you noticed how he acts around other women?”

  “I notice he does his job. The head wrangler doesn’t complain. Cody’s very picky about the people who work
with the horses.” The idea of shy, skinny, horse-happy Devon Hightower living a double life made her laugh again.

  “I like your laugh.”

  The gentle inquisitiveness in his bright eyes caused a pang in her chest. At the moment he looked so sweet part of her melted inside.

  “Wish I was a stand-up comic. I could listen to you laugh all day.”

  A snippy reply eluded her. She fussed blindly with a stack of order forms. “Find Pinky and I’ll have more to laugh about.” She began sorting through the day’s mail. No pink envelopes today. Realizing she’d been holding her breath, she released air in a long sigh.

  “I want to search the dormitory.”

  “No.”

  “No what?”

  “No, you cannot search the dormitory.” She slit open an envelope and dumped out its contents.

  “What’s the big deal? It’s your property. You have a right to inspect it.”

  “I like to think I’d use any means at my disposal to catch that creep. But there are lines I can’t cross. Searching the dorm is one of them.”

  “Why?”

  “My employees aren’t soldiers living in army barracks and I’m not the Gestapo. If you can pinpoint one person as being Pinky and give me hard evidence to back it up, then I’ll say yes. Not until then. I have no more right to search the dorm on a whim than anyone has a right to search my room.”

  He huffed and made faces. She continued opening mail. He finally stopped grumbling.

  “This is a special circumstance.”

  “Not special enough to violate the privacy of innocent people. A search would be akin to breaking and entering. We’d be no better than burglars.”

  “No one has to know.”

  “I would know.” She leveled on him an admonishing gaze. “You don’t fight that dirty...lowering yourself to a criminal’s level, do you?”

  He looked away. He crossed and then uncrossed his legs. He shifted on the sofa.

  A life-long association with the military had introduced her to many people who believed the ends justified the means. That kind of thinking was responsible for much of the evil in the world. Daniel’s inability to meet her eyes said he possessed scruples and a conscience, along with enough integrity to feel shame.