A Perfect Fit

by Sheridon Smythe

  And she wouldn’t have a clue.

  Chapter Twelve

  Normally Brooke wouldn’t panic to see flashing lights in her rearview mirror. She’d gone to high school with both city cops, and her father had been good friends with the sheriff. Any of the three had been known to stop her just to ask her how she was getting along.

  But this wasn’t an ordinary day, and she didn’t feel exactly innocent; she’d kidnapped an important man. To get stopped today of all days seemed far too coincidental for her peace of mind.

  “This is it,” she mumbled, pulling onto the graveled shoulder. The cop car pulled in right behind her, crushing her faint hope that he’d merely been signaling her to move out of his way. No such luck.

  Filled with dread, Brooke gripped the wheel and waited. She silently rehearsed her speech. They would believe her. They had to. They’d known her since kindergarten.

  They knew she was harmless.

  Okay, maybe not exactly harmless when it came to Dee, but mostly harmless. Not your usual, run-of-the-mill kidnapper. They wouldn’t even have to use handcuffs, and she already knew her rights. In fact, she knew where Sheriff Snider kept the keys to the jail cells.

  A tap at the window made her jump and stifle a shriek. She slowly turned her head.

  It was Duncan Gregory, wearing dark shades and a blue uniform that looked fresh from the cleaners. Happily married with four kids, he was tall and slim, with beautiful straight white teeth and a penchant for wearing too much cologne.

  He flashed those teeth now in a smile, but with his expression hidden behind the shades, Brooke couldn’t relax. Duncan was a small-town cop, but she knew that beneath that casual, laid-back personality there pulsed a sharp brain.

  “Hey, Brooke.”

  Brooke took a deep breath, inhaling a lungful of Stetson cologne. She quickly rolled down the glass and exhaled. “Hey, Duncan.” What’s up? Why did you stop me? Do you know what I’ve done?

  “Guess you have a lot on your mind,” Duncan said, bracing his arm across the top of her car and bending down until he was eye level.

  The smile was gone. He looked so stern that Brooke’s heart stuttered to a stop. “Wh—what do you mean?”

  Duncan’s brows rose above his shades at her squeaky question. “Well, I figure you must have, or you would have noticed this falling off.” He held up her battered hubcap, his earlier smile returning at her shocked expression. “I’ve seen you stop and pick this up a dozen times, but today you just kept on going. Don’t know why you don’t just get another set.”

  It wasn’t the first time someone had made the suggestion, but it was the first time Brooke actually considered listening. She mustered a shaky smile and pulled the hubcap through her open window, pitching it carelessly into the back seat. She didn’t care if she ever saw it again. “You know, Duncan, I just might do that. And thanks for going to all the trouble of stopping to pick it up.”

  Blushing, Duncan tipped his hat. “No trouble, Brooke. None at all. You take care now, you hear?”

  “You too,” Brooke said, feeling as if her smiling lips would crack from the strain. He’d stopped her—nearly giving her a heart attack—because of that damned...ornery...hubcap!

  “Give DeeDee my best, will ya?”

  “I will.” Dee would get a lot more than that, Brooke determined.

  When he turned and headed back to his vehicle, Brooke melted against the seat, letting out a long, shaky sigh of pure relief and calling herself a fool. She jerked upright again as Duncan suddenly popped his head into her window.

  “Say, did you hear about Alex Bradshaw?”

  “Wh—who?” she croaked.

  “Alex Bradshaw. He’s your new boss, remember? I heard you tellin’ Sheriff Snider the other day that if you had the chance, you’d tell him what a jackass he was.”

  Brooke felt hysterical laughter bubble to the surface. She firmly swallowed it. Oh, she’d told him all right.

  Right after she had kidnapped him.

  She could well imagine Duncan’s surprise if she blurted out that confession! “Oh, yeah. That Alex Bradshaw. What about him?” It wouldn’t hurt to get an update. God knew she needed all the help she could get...

  “Seems he’s missing,” Duncan informed her importantly. “Treva Brannum over at the diner was the last person who saw him.”

  Old news, Brooke mused. She opened her eyes wide and hoped she looked surprised. “You mean, he was here, in Quicksilver?” she asked in an awed voice.

  “Yep. Nobody’s seen him since yesterday morning, and he never arrived in Hot Springs like he was supposed to.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Yep, that’s right.”

  “Hm.” Brooke tapped her nails on the steering wheel, hoping Duncan would take the hint. She had about fifteen minutes to get to the factory and think of an excuse to get into the office for Daisy’s file.

  But Duncan, it seemed, was in the mood for conversation. “Sheriff Snider says the FBI might be called in on this one.”

  Brooke stiffened. “Isn’t that a little extreme? I mean, it’s not like they know he’s been kidnapped, right? He’s just missing.”

  Duncan shook his head. “I can’t tell you anything else. In fact, I shouldn’t have said that much.”

  “Top secret?” Brooke’s sarcasm sailed right over his handsome hat.

  “You might say that.”

  A speeding car saved her from further frustration. With a muffled curse, Duncan hurriedly tipped his hat again and jogged back to his patrol car. In a flurry of squalling tires and ear-splitting sirens he tore out after the speeder.

  Brooke was left alone to mull over the tiny bit of new information Duncan had let slip. FBI? A small shudder swept over her at the possibility. Fooling Duncan and Sheriff Snider, and even Gerald, the other Quicksilver officer, was one thing; fooling the FBI was quite another.

  She had a very bad feeling she would rue the day she kidnapped Alex Bradshaw!

  ****

  An hour later, with Daisy’s file tucked safely beneath the front seat of her car, Brooke let herself into the house. She couldn’t wait to hear Dee’s excuse for leaving her caged up all night with the Man of Steel.

  The house was empty, but there was a note on the kitchen table that more than explained everything. In fact, it explained it so well that Brooke had to sit down before her knees gave way.

  Dee had a good excuse, all right. While Brooke was kidnapping Alex Bradshaw, Dee was with Cliff, on their way to Vegas to get married. “Cliff called right after you left to go meet him. I’m sorry, Brooke, but you can be scary sometimes. I told him to pick me up here so you wouldn’t have the chance to ruin things.”

  Brooke knuckled moisture from her eyes, lowering the note to the table. Was she really that scary? Dee’s words forced her to stop and consider that maybe she was a little...excitable? So excitable that she’d pushed her baby sister into possibly making the mistake of a lifetime?

  Another tear fell. Brooke gamely got rid of it and forced her chin up. Dee was a grown woman, she reminded herself. If she was big enough to get pregnant, well, then, she was big enough to get married without her help. Worrying would do absolutely no good. She couldn’t very well follow Dee to Vegas and make sure everything turned out all right. Besides, wasn’t this what she wanted? For Cliff to accept his share of the responsibility?

  But she hadn’t really believed that he would, hadn’t really believed that Dee had picked a suitable mate without her help and guidance.

  Hadn’t wanted to believe.

  The truth was painful, but Brooke forced herself to face it; she didn’t want to let go of Dee, because with Dee gone, the nest would be empty. She’d not only be alone, but restless and lost. Since her parents’ death, she had focused her energies on Dee and her job to the exclusion of everything else, and while she loved her job, she didn’t think it would be enough to fill the void with Dee gone.

  What would she do without Dee to look after and worry ov
er?

  Slowly, Brooke looked around at the large kitchen. Her father had owned his own construction business, and he’d designed and built the house when Dee was just a baby. With four bedrooms and two baths, it was too much house for one person.

  She should sell it, buy something smaller or rent an apartment. Maybe a two-bedroom for when Dee came to visit. Keeping something this big would be a waste of money.

  Brooke picked up the note, her vision blurring on the hastily scrawled p.s. at the bottom of the paper. “Get a life, Brooke. You deserve it.”

  Get a life, as if she were an aging, pesky maiden aunt or something, living with a relative who didn’t have the heart to throw her out. Well, she had a life. She had a wonderful job, and as of yesterday morning, her life had been anything but boring. She’d kidnapped Alex Bradshaw, head of the Bradshaw Corporation, and had just a few moments earlier added theft to her growing list of crimes by stealing Daisy’s file from the new secretary’s filing cabinet.

  Why, just this morning she’d come within a hair’s breadth of throwing her ethics out the window and having hot, wild sex with her hunky new boss! Brooke sniffed and straightened her spine. In fact, she could consider this an adventure, and obviously a timely one. If she were busy running around breaking into offices and fighting her own surprisingly strong sexual urges, then she wouldn’t have time to snivel about Dee running off to get married or worry herself sick that Dee was making a mistake.

  With determination in her heart, Brooke threw the note aside and stood. She’d let Dee handle her own life for a change. Meanwhile, she had a job to do, one that could possibly save hundreds of jobs, not to mention keep her out of jail.

  She had a rat to help catch.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Secrets were hard to keep in a small town like Quicksilver, and normally Brooke didn’t mind; before yesterday, she really didn’t have much to hide.

  But today she did. She felt exposed, as if she wore a T-shirt that shouted, I KIDNAPPED ALEX BRADSHAW.

  It didn’t help when Kayla Banes, who worked part-time at the downtown clothing store, pounced on her the moment she came through the door. Kayla’s mother and three of her cousins worked at the Safe & Secure condom factory.

  “Brooke! Have you heard the news? They think someone kidnapped Alex Bradshaw!”

  Around Dee’s age, Kayla was dark-haired and plump, with brown eyes that sparkled with energy. She skittered around the counter and began straightening garments on a rack. “Can you imagine anything like that happening in Quicksilver? Are you worried? I mean, what if they find him dead somewhere? What will happen to the factory? Mama’s about to have a fit!”

  Brooke finally managed to get a word in. “Duncan says he’s missing. They haven’t verified that it’s a kidnapping yet.”

  Kayla yanked a dress from the hanger and held it to her plump body; it was about two sizes too small. With a grimace, she shoved it back on the hanger. “If he hasn’t been kidnapped, why would they offer a reward?”

  “Well—”

  “I say he’s been kidnapped. He’s a rich man, and rich people get kidnapped all the time.” Hands on hips, Kayla finally gave Brooke her full attention. “So, what are you looking for today? Something to wear to Dee’s wedding?”

  Brooke shouldn’t have been surprised, but she was. “How did you know about Dee?”

  Kayla grinned. “She and that hunk of hers stopped by here on their way out of town. He bought her that white linen traveling suit we had in the window, and a black negligee.”

  So, while Brooke had been committing a felony, Dee had been buying sexy negligees with Cliff. The irony was just too much.

  Shaking her head, Brooke said, “Actually, I’m here to buy...Dean Jr. something for his birthday.” Confident that Kayla wouldn’t know Dean’s birthday was another three months away, Brooke blithely continued. “I thought I’d get him a couple pairs of jeans and a shirt or two.”

  “Practical gifts are always good,” Kayla agreed brightly. “Let me see. Dean’s about a size thirty-six in the waist, and about...a thirty two in length? Does that sound about right?”

  “Um, no. I think he’s lost some weight. I’d say about a thirty-two in the waist, and make the length a thirty-four.” When Kayla’s eyebrows shot upward, Brooke swallowed an exasperated curse. “He can always exchange them later.”

  Finally, after another thirty minutes of blood-boiling argument over shirt sizes, Kayla sacked Brooke’s purchases. She must have sensed Brooke’s simmering anger, for she didn’t blink an eye as Brooke handed her two one-hundred-dollar bills.

  Relaxing, Brooke grabbed her change and the bags and made it to the door before Kayla stopped her. She sounded like her usual perky self, but Brooke thought she heard an underlying suspicion that hadn’t been there earlier.

  “I think it’s a good idea to buy presents early, while you’ve got the money. November will be here before you know it, won’t it?”

  Kayla was Dee’s age, a full fifteen years younger than Dean, who was about to turn thirty-five. Brooke couldn’t think of one single reason the girl would know Dean’s birth date. None. Zilch.

  But she did.

  With her hand on the door, Brooke said as calmly as she could manage considering she felt more like shouting. “Yes, it is a good idea.” And because she couldn’t resist, she added, “The money came from my savings account, in case you were curious.”

  “I was. Thanks.”

  Brooke exited the store before she exploded, and ran smack into her fellow supervisor and friend, Dixie Comford. A few years older than Brooke, Dixie was married, with two children. Her husband worked for the local telephone company.

  “Brooke! Have you—”

  “Yes, I heard about Alex Bradshaw,” Brook snarled. When Dixie looked startled, Brook sighed and shook her head. “Sorry. I’ve only been in town a couple of hours and already I’m sick of hearing about it.”

  “In town? You mean you’ve been gone?”

  Belatedly realizing her slip, Brooke groaned to herself. “I meant in town, as opposed to my house, which is not on Main Street.” If she didn’t get out of town fast, she was going to blow her own cover!

  “Oh.” Dixie hooked her long, permed hair behind her ear and grabbed Brooke’s arm, drawing her close. “Have they questioned you yet?” she asked in a whisper.

  A tremor shot through Brooke; she hoped Dixie hadn’t noticed. “Um, no, they haven’t. Did they question you?”

  Dixie nodded. “Asked me if I’d ever met Alex Bradshaw, and how I felt about him in general. They’ve talked to Kyle and a couple of other supervisors, too.”

  “Who’s they?” Brooke asked, casting a longing glance at her Pinto parked a few feet away. She wanted to hop in and get the hell out of Dodge!

  “Sheriff and some slick-looking guy I’ve never seen before.”

  FBI? Brooke’s throat went dry at the thought. Alex had been missing less than twenty-four hours. What would happen after a few days...a week? From the sound of things, the town would be under siege! She’d have to convince Alex to talk to the authorities and let them know he was not missing, or kidnapped, before this thing got completely out of hand and they arrested someone.

  Like herself. Just the embarrassment alone made her cringe. Even if Alex didn’t go through with his threat to press charges, she’d be teased and talked about for months, even years. She could hear it now, “Have you met Brooke Welch? She’s the one who kidnapped Alex Bradshaw by mistake!”

  Forty years from now she’d still be the one who kidnapped her boss. There would also be speculation about what they’d done for recreation up in the cabin all alone, and people at the factory—people who trusted her—would wonder what they’d talked about.

  A few minutes later, Brooke managed to get away from Dixie and into her car with a promise to call her later. It was an empty promise, but Brooke chalked it up to another necessary lie.

  Armed with food, Daisy’s file, Alex’s new clothes, and the
burning knowledge that Dee was probably now in Vegas having the time of her life while she dodged FBI agents and told one lie after another, Brooke headed back to the cabin and her sexy, blackmailing boss.

  She watched her rearview mirror more than she watched the road, eating Tums and preparing her speech.

  She and Alex Bradshaw had a few things to get straight between them. It was time he realized he couldn’t push her around just because he was her employer. Sexual harassment was only one of the charges she could bring against him, she decided righteously. She could also charge him with blackmail.

  ****

  By four o’clock, Alex had begun to wonder if Brooke would return. He’d turned on the small, ancient refrigerator, tidied the counters, and caught half a dozen sun perch using the fishing tackle he’d discovered in the small utility shed behind the cabin.

  The perch, cleaned and salted, lay sizzling in foil on the grill out back. A good, cold beer would go nicely with the fish, he thought, hoping Brooke remembered his request.

  Alex inhaled, getting a good whiff of his shirt, which smelled of sweat and fish. Once Brooke arrived with his new clothes, he could shower and change into something a little less...fragrant. He smiled, imagining her reaction when she saw that he’d prepared dinner.

  They’d have a nice, quiet evening. Talk, get to know one another better. He had a feeling Brooke was definitely worth knowing. She’d loosen up, realize he wasn’t the monster she thought he was. When she was relaxed, he would pick her up and carry her to the bedroom and make slow, sweet love to her. Okay, so maybe the first time he’d make frantic love to her. Save the slow stuff for the second or third time around....

  The sound of a car engine broke into Alex’s arousing fantasies. He dried his hands on a towel and went out onto the porch, anticipation zinging through his bloodstream like tiny currents of electricity.

  Brooke emerged from the car and eyed him over the top of the battered Pinto, her insolent gaze setting fire to his groin. “You gonna help, or just stand there gawking at me?”