Yours for the Night

by Samantha Hunter

  “But you know my email address—we didn’t use work addresses, but you would have known what was from me.”

  “Yes…I know. I didn’t think it really was you who sent the notes, but, well, I don’t know! This is all so confusing. The last few days all kinds of things have been going crazy. I didn’t know what to think of it. I’m sorry I bothered you.”

  “Do you still have those emails?” She nodded, and he crossed to her desk. “May I see them?”

  “Sure…they’re all right here.” She shifted in her chair, trying to ignore how close he was to her, leaning over her shoulder. She could feel the heat of his skin, and moistened her lips unconsciously, remembering his taste. Hoping her hands didn’t tremble, she opened her inbox, the list of messages displayed. And one more. A new one.

  She clicked on it, and caught her breath. This message did not seem harmless. It was not overtly threatening, but starkly sexual. The comments about admiring her beauty were still there, but this time the sender was describing, in great detail, what he would like to do with her—what he liked to do for himself while he watched her.

  “Watching me?” Her voice had tightened to a harsh whisper, as fear made it hard to breathe. Jack was leaning over her, focused on the screen, his eyes intense.

  “Let me sit.” She did, rising to pace the office, rubbing her arms with her hands as he took her chair and tapped away madly at the keyboard. She stopped and stared at the roses, unable to tear her eyes away, and startled when Jack’s curse cut across the room.

  “Bastard! He’s using a dummy email account, but it’s been bounced around so many locations it will take forever to dig through to the source, and even then, we might not be sure it’s real.”

  He looked up to see Raine standing in the middle of the office, pale and shaken, and was consumed with anger for the jerk who was messing with her. He was still angry with her, but he didn’t want to see her harassed and afraid. He tried to reassure her as best he could.

  “I won’t say you shouldn’t worry about this, but chances are that this is just a lot of empty words. This could be international, or whoever is doing it could be far away from here. You are a published personality, after all—anyone could contact you and send things here.”

  Raine just nodded. He stood, and crossed to where she stood, trying to keep his tone and behavior professional and not take her in his arms, as every voice in his head was screaming at him to do.

  “I’ll grab those messages and work on trying to trace them downstairs. If I can track down the sender and find the source, we can have his accounts closed, and that should solve the problem.” Raine nodded again. He moved to the door, thinking back for a moment, reconsidering. “Raine, what did you mean, things have been crazy all week?”

  She took a steadying breath, and told him about the bills, the refunded checks, and felt a knot form in her gut as his eyes darkened, and he came back into the room.

  “Sit down before you fall over. You need to calm down and think clearly here—make sure you have given me all the details. Are you sure you didn’t make a mistake in your checkbook and double-pay your accounts? It happens.”

  She looked at him, snapping out of her fugue for the first time since he had come into the office. “Of course I checked. I didn’t double-pay anything. There was just an accounting error, and I have to get someone to pay attention and fix it, but I don’t see how—”

  “Raine, you said it was credit cards, student loans, and what, a parking ticket?”

  She nodded.

  “How do you suppose the same error happened with all those different creditors? How could the same thing happen at the same time with all of them?”

  Raine hadn’t considered that—she had been so caught up in trying to straighten out the mess that that simple fact had not occurred to her. Now that he’d pointed it out, she felt so stupid. She looked at him. “What are you thinking, Jack?”

  His mouth was set in a grim line. “It means someone probably messed with your accounts.” His eyes flashed to the roses and back to her again. “I guess you do have a secret admirer. Someone who knows how to hack into banks, too, by the looks of it. I guess he thought that might have been a nice gesture. And those flowers. He’s really trying to impress you, whoever he is.”

  A chill ran over her skin, and she wrapped her arms tightly around herself. “Someone is doing these things on purpose? Why? What do I do? How do we find him?”

  “Well, we should tell the police, and since he has found you at the magazine, you should let Duane know.”

  She paled, and he gave in. Closing the distance between them, he pulled her a little roughly into his arms and held her close. She smelled so good, felt so right. He knew there were other things they should be doing right now, but the minute she relaxed into his arms, his body went on full-scale alert.

  He released her gently, moving back just a bit before she could detect the evidence of his arousal. Focus, Jack, focus. But she looked up at him with those passionate green eyes, and he was lost. She wanted him, too, he could see it. She trembled under his hands, and he lowered his mouth to hers, kissing her hungrily. There was no gentleness in it. He wrapped her tightly against him again, releasing all of the pent-up desire he had been holding back.

  Then, in a flash of sanity, he pushed away from her, angry with himself that he would take advantage of her at such a time. She was afraid, confused, and he had pounced on her like a wild man. He walked to the other side of the office, his chest heaving as he fought for control. When he had his voice back, he spoke.

  “I’m sorry, Raine. I know this isn’t exactly the time.”

  “Let’s not talk about it, okay?” Her voice was not much more than a whisper, and he felt even worse.

  It wasn’t okay, but he nodded. “I’ll tell you now, the police probably aren’t going to do much about it—this is small stuff to them, and the New England chapter of the hi-tech crime investigation unit is in Boston. They might be interested because he got into your bank accounts. Has anything happened at your home? Any phone calls or strange people hanging around?”

  A chill settled at the base of his spine; he knew she could be in real danger.

  Raine shook her head. “No. Not since the bills. And he didn’t send them, technically.”

  “So, we’ll tell Duane first, and get his take, then let the authorities know.”

  “We?”

  Jack nodded, feeling a little something inside twist as she looked up at him, a slight edge of fear, and then—something else—gratitude?—shining in her eyes. “Yeah, since I’m the security administrator, he’ll want my take on the situation.”

  She nodded, and the light dimmed a little. “Okay.”

  * * *

  THE CONVERSATION WITH Duane was tense, and by the end of it, she had a raging headache. He ordered Jack to make sure all the magazine’s systems were secure, and while he was concerned about Raine, he was obviously more concerned about a security breach bringing down the magazine’s computers. It appeared he was over his little crush.

  Raine took the thought back as soon as she thought it—Duane was just doing his job. By protecting the magazine’s computers, he was protecting her, too. And it wasn’t as though he wasn’t concerned about her, there just wasn’t much he could do.

  They called the police from his office, on conference call, and the detective responded just as Jack said the police would—unless things got more serious, their hands were tied. She could go down to the station and file a report to formally document the incident, just for the sake of having it on record. They could send it on to Boston. She didn’t even know whom she was complaining about—she had an email address and that was about it.

  Jack insisted on driving her to the police station, though she didn’t know why. He just seemed unwilling to leave her alone, which she thought was odd. He was brusque and businesslike, but she admitted to herself that his presence did help. She didn’t allow herself to think about the kiss in the office
, and what it could have meant. But for one lovely moment she hadn’t been cold and afraid.

  8

  JACK RETURNED TO Raine’s office after clearing up some matters before they could leave for the police station, and stood in the door for a second, watching her, fighting off the coil of protective feelings that he’d been struggling with all morning. She was sitting at her desk, her head in her hands. She didn’t move, she didn’t even look as if she was breathing. Her skin was porcelain, and he remembered its taste. He shook himself and tapped on the open door. She didn’t jump, but just looked at him, expressionless.

  “Okay, I’m ready.” Her voice was quiet, smooth and calm. He wanted to hold her. But he didn’t.

  “Let’s get some food first, you look like you could use something.”

  “I’m fine, I just want to get this over with.”

  “You’re white as a sheet, and you need to eat. We’ll just stop for something quick.” His tone of voice told her he had already decided for them both. She grabbed her coat and realized she wasn’t going to win this one, and besides, she was a little hungry.

  When she picked up the flowers as she left the office, she got a curious look from him.

  “I don’t want them,” she said, “so we can stop by the hospital on the way and leave them at the desk. They can keep them or give them to someone who will enjoy them.”

  That annoying feeling itched at him again, the one that made him think maybe he was wrong about her. Or maybe it was a convenient rationalization so that he could be more comfortable with the fact that he wanted her in his bed. Again. Soon. But it still stung how she had turned on him the last time. No guy in his right mind set himself up for something like that twice.

  As they drove off, her scent and the fragrance from the roses combined in the most erotic way possible, and he felt himself harden unexpectedly. Shifting in his seat, he adjusted his coat so that she wouldn’t notice. She wasn’t saying anything, and he felt the need to break the silence.

  “Do you like Italian? There is a good little café-deli place down the block.”

  “Anything is fine.”

  More silence. He shifted in his seat again, staving off the image of her sprawled naked on a bed covered with rose petals. Hell, forget the rose petals.

  “Are you okay?”

  The rough concern in his voice made her look at him, and she was able, for the first time, to really appreciate what a gorgeous man he truly was. His profile was sharp, straight nose, full lips. Those intense eyes that seemed to pierce through everything were focused intently ahead on the road. For a moment, she forgot he had just spoken to her.

  “Yes, I’m just a little…freaked out, I guess. I’ve never had anything like this happen.”

  They pulled up next to the deli and parked. As they entered, Raine felt a shock of pleasure at the flood of warm colors and the spicy smells that had her lifting her hand to her stomach.

  “Oh, I am hungry.”

  “Let’s order and sit then. They are pretty quick here. Great soups.”

  After ordering sandwiches and soup at the counter, they found a small booth in the back, and waited for their food with steaming cups of coffee. She wanted to talk about anything but work, so she tried her hand at small talk.

  “Have you always lived in Salem?”

  He shook his head. “No, I grew up in Connecticut.”

  “Huh. Me, too. Where?”

  He wanted to avoid this question for now—it would just open a can of worms when things were wormy enough. Instead, he sort of slid around it a little.

  “My family owns an inn there. It was just my mom and dad and me.”

  “No brothers or sisters?”

  “Nope. They wanted to have more kids, but I think there were some problems, and they couldn’t. Didn’t matter, I never felt alone, I had people around me all the time, the guests at the inn, some of the part-time staff.”

  “Didn’t you hate not having a regular home?”

  He blinked, as if surprised by her question.

  “I never really thought about it as not being a regular home. It was where I lived, it was comfortable, homey. My mom cooked all the food for guests, and there were never more than six or eight at a time. They seemed more like relatives, several people we came to know very well, since they came back each year. There was always work to do, but it was fun.”

  “Where are your parents now?”

  “Still there. I go home for holidays, talk to them all the time. I miss them, even though they are not too far away. They close the inn for half the year now and travel themselves. They’re good people.”

  Stirring her coffee, she smiled slightly. “That sounds wonderful.”

  “It is.” He phrased his next inquiry carefully. “Raine, speaking of families, do you think that this harassment could have something to do with your family?”

  She glanced up sharply. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, children of wealthy families are often targets for crimes like extortion and kidnapping.”

  A chill set over the table.

  “How would you know about my family’s money?”

  Jack silently cursed his slip. He should come clean about knowing her when they were younger, but he couldn’t. Not yet.

  “Someone at the magazine mentioned it. Your father is pretty well-known around New England. Lance Covington Industries seems to own half of Massachusetts and New Hampshire.”

  She pushed her coffee to the side, and met his eyes squarely. “I am more or less estranged from my family—if you can call it that. It’s really only my father, and I haven’t seen him for years, since I left for college. I have never really thought of myself as attracting any negative attention because he’s wealthy. Most people probably don’t even know I exist.”

  Jack watched her, saying nothing, and thought about that interesting little detail—she had said that her father was wealthy, but had not included herself in that definition. Yet surely she was heiress to her father’s fortune? She was the only child, after all. She must have money of her own, a trust fund, or something of that sort. He pushed a little more.

  “I’m sure your father would want to know if you were being threatened. He might want to set up some security for you.”

  At this she laughed out loud, though not happily. It was the first time he had ever seen any kind of hardness about her, though it changed quickly to a deep sense of sadness he could see reflected in her eyes and the tightness around her mouth.

  “Hardly. If I was kidnapped, I am not sure he would see it as a smart investment to pay the ransom.”

  Their food came, and as he dived into his, he watched her play with hers. He wanted to draw her out, to find out more.

  “Did you have a falling-out?”

  She bit her sandwich, and chewed slowly, waiting to answer, unsure about opening up to him but feeling irrationally compelled to do so. Somehow, she wanted him to know something about her, about who she was. Not Nilla, not the Raine he knew at work, but just her. Her voice was not much more than an edgy whisper.

  “No, never that. Nothing as emotional as that. Though he was disappointed that I didn’t want to make more out of myself. We didn’t argue about it because he wasn’t paying for my education. I was on scholarship. So I did what I wanted. He didn’t see journalism and sociology as leading to much of anything. He would probably have approved if I owned the magazine rather than just writing for it.”

  She sipped her soup. It was delicious, but her appetite had gone.

  “I don’t want to give the wrong impression,” she said. “He’s not a tyrant or anything. He never hurt me or left me wanting for anything. He made sure I had all the things I needed, clothes, food, education.”

  “Love?” It escaped his lips before he could stop himself, and he regretted it as soon as the word passed between them. She looked away, staring at her food.

  “No. But a home. People to take care of me. A place to be, the things I needed. More than a lot o
f people have.”

  “Children need more than things, Raine.” He thought of his own home and parents, the happiness they had together and had shared with him. They weren’t wealthy, but they had had what they needed materially, and more. He’d never been unhappy, or lonely, even though he had no brothers or sisters. The inn was busy most of the year, and there were always people around, but his mother and father always made him feel loved and valued. He couldn’t imagine what she must have grown up with. How could a child deal with that kind of coldness? He quieted his own thoughts, and focused on what she was saying to him.

  “Well, it doesn’t always work out perfectly for everyone. But I shouldn’t complain. He was good to me, in his way. Better than he had to be.”

  She continued in a matter-of-fact voice, “I mean, after all, I was adopted. So it’s not like I am his blood. I never got the whole story, he didn’t like to talk about it. But the staff talked, and every now and then I would pick up bits of information. Enough to know my situation. Apparently he and my mother couldn’t have children, and she insisted on having a family and they ended up adopting me.”

  He nodded, sipping his soup, and let his silence encourage her to continue, at the same time he was kicking himself. He had terribly misjudged her.

  “She left when I was about two. I don’t remember anything specific. He never said anything about her, why she did what she did. There were no pictures around.”

  Jack was quiet, unsure of what to say. He was very uneasy about how he had treated her in the past. He realized he didn’t know her at all. But he wanted to.

  Meeting her as Nilla had offered him some small glimmers into who Raine really was, and it had been enough to capture his interest, until his latent adolescent fantasies had gotten him off track. They were silent for several minutes, then Raine smiled, a little too brightly.

  “So, that’s me. The poor little rich girl.”

  “Don’t.” He reached out a hand to grasp hers, and was immediately shocked at the heat the simple touch produced, but he held on and kept his gaze on hers. “Don’t make light of it. That was a horrible way to grow up.”