by Desiree Holt
He waited, watching for anyone else to enter, but the phone just rang and rang. He realized with a start it didn’t even go to voice mail. What the hell? He hung up and dialed again. Same result. He gave the instrument a hard look. What the fuck was going on? He nearly threw the phone against the wall in his anger but caught himself just in time. Instead he gripped it in his hand, clenching it tightly, and forcing a calm he was far from feeling. He could not afford to let anyone see him like this. Too many questions to answer.
Shit!
Work was calling. But as soon as he was free he’d send her a message that she better not fuck with him again. Even if he never said a word, she’d damn well better take his calls.
Finally settled enough to be around others, he exited the restroom. Maybe he could cut out of work early today. Find out where Tyler was.
And send her a new message.
* * * *
Tyler parked in her driveway, thinking in the back of her mind that she might go out later so the car would be right there in the driveway waiting for her. She let herself into her town house, juggling her mail and three shopping bags, and headed directly for the kitchen. After stashing the food, she took a half bottle of Riesling from the fridge. She grabbed a wine glass and poured a healthy drink for herself. Two swallows and her nerves began to settle. She took the bottle and the glass with her out to her patio, settled in her lounge chair, and filled her glass again. The sun had not yet begun to set but its late day rays bathed everything with a warm glow, soothing her jangled nerves.
For some reason this morning’s phone call had unsettled her more than the others. She had basically ignored them in the beginning, thinking they were a wrong number. However, when they persisted, she’d begun to get irritated. It hadn’t yet occurred to her to be nervous about them. Now she wondered if she should, if there was something sinister about them.
Dramatic much?
Again the thought popped into her head that some guy in one of the many bars she hung out in might have clipped her number when she left her phone sitting out. Lately after a few drinks, she found herself getting careless about things like that. That was not good. Not good at all. She realized she was falling into a dangerous pattern but wasn’t sure how to change it. And here she was ready to head out again tonight and do the same thing.
Stay home, a little voice in her head told her. Don’t go out tonight. Stay away from those places and the men you find there. At least she wasn’t falling into bed so easily any more. Too many unpleasant experiences had effectively killed that urge a very long time ago. Now it was more show than go. Still, she couldn’t remember the last time she actually felt the stirrings of real desire.
Then she thought about Rafe and all her girl parts suddenly woke up and began doing a happy dance. What was it about that damn man, anyway? Surely she still didn’t have a hangover from her stupid teenage crush, right? She started to take another sip of wine, then stopped as something occurred to her.
She wondered what Rafe Ortiz would think if he knew her dirty little secret—that every time she brought herself to climax it was his face that flashed in her brain.
Suddenly remembering last night’s kiss, Tyler pressed the tips of her fingers to her lips, as if she could still feel the imprint of Rafe’s mouth there. She 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.
Chapter 4
Rafe parked at the curb and sighed as he shut off the engine. So much for rescheduling last night’s poker game. He climbed out of his car and walked slowly into the driveway. Tyler had left the outside lights on so the damage to her tires was plainly visible. He walked around the vehicle slowly, then took out his camera and did another circuit, snapping pictures of it. She was lucky the damage wasn’t worse. Tires could be replaced. Whoever it was could have keyed her expensive car with the high-gloss finish. Or done something to her engine. Jimmied the brake line if he’d had the time and no one saw him.
Was that really panic he’d heard in her voice when she called? She was such a fucking good actress, she could be playing a scam on him, for whatever reason. Maybe she was pissed off because except for the one tiny lapse, he gave her a wide berth. Of course, that little lapse—the kiss that had scorched his balls—was giving him trouble, too.
There was a possibility this could just be kids making expensive mischief, but Rafe had a feeling that wasn’t the answer. Tyler certainly had enough losers who’d passed through her life that one of them could be seeking revenge now. Whoever this was, he didn’t think they wanted to harm her. Not yet. This was more about frightening her. Maybe driving her back to him, whoever him was, where he could offer safety and protection. And exactly who would that be? Not the losers she picked up in bars, a string of one-night stands he was sure was longer than the ticket line at Southern Bank Stadium. Anyone investigating this would definitely have a full-time job.
He had to figure out the best way to approach this. It was important to let Tyler know she had to take precautions, that she needed to make drastic changes to her lifestyle. The viciousness of the act made Rafe think this was not the first time this asshole had reached out to her. What else had happened? Would she tell him if he asked? Someone had to find out what was going on and take the proper steps with her and for her. He sure as hell didn’t want it to be him. Not when that one kiss was an indication of the sexual chemistry waiting to explode between them
Shit.
A headache brewed as he felt himself getting sucked into the whole thing.
He was still standing in the driveway, trying to organize his thoughts, when the front door opened, and he looked up to see Tyler standing there. Immediately he felt an unexpected and certainly unwanted punch to the gut that just looking at her gave him. Big problem.
She blew out a breath. “Pretty bad, isn’t it.”
He was struck by the fact there was none of the usual bravado in her voice. Oh, no, he told himself. Don’t let sympathy take over here. She is what she is, no matter what. And that spells trouble. He needed to wear his matter-of-fact cloak.
“But fixable,” he assured her. “All it takes is your plastic to pay for it. Right? You didn’t need me. You could have called a garage to tow it.”
She jerked as if he’d slapped her. Her entire posture changed. She hugged her arms around herself as if in protective mode. “You think I called you to help me get new tires? Listen, I guess this wasn’t such a good idea after all. Go on back to your own little world. I’ll handle this.”
Well, jackass, could you be any more hostile or insensitive?
She was his boss’s daughter. No matter what he thought of her and her lifestyle, he needed to be courteous at least. Besides, he could see how shaken she was by this, even though she was desperately trying not to show it.
With a deliberate effort, he softened his tone. “Tyler, listen, I’m—”
“Never mind.” She bit off each word, her chin lifted defiantly even as a semblance of something resembling pain flashed across her face. “You’re absolutely right. I’m probably making too much out of nothing. I’ll take care of it like you said. I apologize for interrupting your evening. You can just go on back to whatever you were doing when I called.” She paused. “And whoever you were doing it with.”
Guilt washed through him. Yeah, jackass was the right name for him.
“I’m sorry, Tyler.” He tried to make his voice reassuring. Pleasant, even. “Really. I didn’t mean that the way it came out. Just that you’re lucky the tires are all that got damaged. That there was an immediate solution for it.” He swallowed. “And I’ll be happy to help you with that.”
She didn’t move, just looked at him for a long moment. Her defensive posture was so easy to read. In a minute, she’d tell him to go to hell just to protect herself.
“I think I just overreacted, because…”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Because what? Is something else going on here?”
She looked hard at him then sighed. “You might as well come in. I mean, if you want to.”
“I do.” He shoved his phone back in his pocket. “I’m coming. I just took some pictures of the tires. For your insurance company,” he added.
She stood back to let him enter the town house. As he brushed past her, something delicate teased at his nostrils, the faint scent of wildflowers. Probably whatever soap or shampoo she used. He wondered fleetingly and foolishly what she looked like without any clothes on. Was her skin as creamy all over? Was it soft to the touch? His hormones that seemed to have a mind of their own where she was concerned stood up and did a jig, until he sent them a mental death ray. Maybe he should stick his balls in the freezer so his brain knew to chill out.
“Thank you for coming over.” She spoke the words in a stilted, formal tone, jarring him back to the present. “I appreciate it.”
“Of course.” What was he supposed to say? Kurt Gillette might not have the best relationship with his daughter, but Rafe owed him enough to answer a call for help from Tyler.
“Would you like some coffee?” Still with the stiff voice. “I have a lot of different flavors.”
“Sure. Thanks. That would be great. Just regular if you’ve got it.” Drinking coffee might take some of the discomfort out of the situation, although if he were smart he’d get the fuck out of there.
He followed her into the kitchen, hitching himself up onto one of the stools at the serving counter while she busied herself filling mugs. He took a closer look at her in the light. Scrubbed free of makeup, her face had a clean, fresh look that surprised him. It was the same look he’d seen at Al Dente before she’d run to the restroom and slathered the goop on with a trowel. He liked this one a lot better. Her sun-streaked blond hair was pulled back in a careless ponytail, emphasizing skin that minus all the makeup was almost translucent.
The damp ends of her ponytail were an indication she had showered not long before he got there. She wore a short-sleeved faded T-shirt and flannel pants, both worn-looking. Hardly the outfit he’d expect the princess to wear at home. He couldn’t help noticing the drape of the flannel pants against her hips and the curve of her ass before they flared over her legs. Without thought, his gaze was drawn to the way the soft material of the tee draped over her breasts. It was obvious she wore no bra, the way her hard
nipples poked at the soft fabric. Were they rigid because of him? Did he do that to her? Was she reacting to his presence?
Shit! Again!
Think of ice cubes. Freezing weather. Dead fish. Anything to control the raging hard-on that popped up so suddenly it shocked him. This was Tyler, the woman trying to convince the world she was the sluttiest woman in the city. Maybe in the state, and Texas was a big state. The woman at the top of his Do Not Fuck list. He certainly didn’t need her to see his disobedient cock poke at her with the mother of all boners. He shifted position enough to keep the free-standing counter as a barrier between them.
When she turned to hand him a filled mug, he was stunned at the look of vulnerability he saw on her face. Her clear gray eyes, framed by surprisingly dark lashes, held an unexpected sadness, as if life had disappointed her. Then it was gone, so suddenly he wondered if he’d just imagined it. Or hoped for it.
“Let’s go into the living room and sit, okay?”
What could he say? I have to hide my misbehaving dick? Instead, he pulled in every thread of self-control and followed her into the large room. She perched on the edge of the couch, so he took the armchair opposite, crossing his legs so one ankle rested on the opposite knee. Camouflage. Okay. That worked.
“Do you have any idea when this happened?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Obviously after dark but I wasn’t really paying attention.” She cradled her mug in both hands. “I sat out on the patio for a long time.”
“How come your car wasn’t in the garage?”
She squirmed a little on the chair and took a sip of her coffee before answering him. “I thought I might go out later.”
“Oh.” Well, that was no surprise. Was there ever a night she stayed home? Not for the first time he wondered how a woman like Tyler Gillette, who had everything going for her, could throw away her life so easily.
“Don’t say what you’re thinking.” She glared at him. “None of the…people I meet know where I live.”
He chuffed a sigh of exasperation. “Tyler, you aren’t exactly unknown. Your face has been in the media as many times as the mayor. Unless the guys you pick up are deaf, dumb, and blind, they know who you are. They can easily find out where you live.”