Love in Hiding

by Diane Holiday

  As he plodded back to his car, the tension in his shoulders made him hunch. He stretched before getting back in, but it didn’t help. Over and over, the gut-wrenching image of Sarah kissing that man replayed in his head.

  From the glove compartment, he pulled out the satin pointe shoe ribbons. He wrapped and unwrapped them around his left index finger six times and again six times around his right. At last, his muscles loosened, and the image faded.

  The wonderful life he’d planned with Sarah had ended with that kiss. Weak. She had let another sway and control her. Now she’d pay for it.

  He tucked away the ribbons.

  Something nagged at him. Sarah’s lover had left the farm in the morning and never come back. Not his usual behavior. With him out of the picture, Sarah stood a better chance of being alone. Leonard tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. Finally, this might be his opportunity.

  Morgan lit candles and fluffed her hair. So far, things had gone as she’d hoped. Bruce had loved the new horse. After tonight, she wouldn’t need the excuse to take trips with him. She had him right where she wanted. A laugh bubbled in her throat as she glanced at the bed. Well, not quite yet.

  Her gaze swept around the suite. She’d booked two but had to change the reservation when Bruce insisted he stay in a regular room. With all the money he had, it made no sense, but she didn’t care. He’d be in her bed most of the night anyway.

  The champagne she’d ordered sat on ice in a silver bucket. He wouldn’t refuse a toast to the new acquisition. At least she’d get him to her suite that way. After he took one look at her, the rush of his blood from one head to the other would do the rest.

  She rolled on black fishnet stockings and snapped them to a lacy garter belt. A crotchless thong and a black underwire cupless bra, exposing her breasts, completed the look. She dabbed on some candy-apple–red lipstick, then stepped into a pair of silver stilettos. Standing in front of the mirrored closet, she admired herself. Victoria’s Secret models had nothing on her. She slipped on a satin robe and picked up her cell phone.

  “Hey, Bruce. How about stopping in for a celebratory toast?”

  “Thanks, but I have some work to do.”

  “Always working. Phooey. I have a bottle of champagne chilling. I hate to waste it, but I’m not going to drink alone.”

  He didn’t answer right off, then said, “I need a half hour at least.”

  “No problem. I’ll be waiting. Room 602.”

  “Okay. But just one. I wanna get to bed early.”

  “Me too.” With him.

  Chapter 36

  Bruce stifled the urge to call Sarah. Damn he missed her, but she got nervous when her phone rang. Work had been brutal with her gorgeous body making him crazy. Hadn’t helped that he’d touched her at every possible chance. He shook his head. Better finish up the notes on his patients’ sessions and check in with Morgan. He’d rather skip the whole drink thing, but she’d come all the way to North Carolina. The least he could do was stop in for a few minutes.

  He closed the computer and grabbed his room key. When he knocked, Morgan opened the door and stepped to the side. She wore a silky pink robe, the room behind her dark.

  His gut waved a warning flag. “Am I too early?”

  “No. I just wanted to be comfortable. Come in.” She held the door wider.

  He frowned but entered. The scent of vanilla filled the room as candles flickered on the coffee table, TV stand, and bureau. Everything about the setup screamed ambush.

  “You have the wrong idea here.”

  “What? We’re just having a toast to celebrate.” She sashayed to a silver bucket on a stand, pulled out a bottle of champagne, and opened it. Foam oozed from the top, and she poured him a glass.

  With the room so dark, he couldn’t read her eyes. She sounded normal enough. One drink and he was out of there. “How about putting on some lights.”

  “I prefer candles. I bring them when I go to hotels. Makes it homier, don’t you think?” She smiled and picked up a champagne flute, which she poured to the brim.

  The women he’d worked with slept on the ground and packed what they could carry to survive. He probably shouldn’t compare Morgan to them. So she liked candles. She wasn’t in the military and had a right to live any way she wanted.

  “To finding the perfect horse.” She raised her flute and clinked his. “Let’s have a seat.”

  Shit. It would be rude to take one sip and leave. He hit the Light button on his watch to check the time. “Just for a minute.”

  She sat in the love seat, and he chose a chair across from her.

  When she crossed her legs, her robe opened to reveal fishnet stockings and a garter belt.

  Fuck. His stomach hit the Eject button. He sprang to his feet. Should have trusted his first instinct. No idea what game she was playing, but he was out of there. “Whoa. You definitely have the wrong idea.”

  Morgan put down her glass and stood. “No, I don’t. Whatever we do is our private business.” She untied the robe and let it slide to the ground.

  Her bare breasts gleamed in the candlelight.

  His blood pressure rocketed, in the bad way. He shook his head and took a step toward the door. “I’m leaving.”

  Morgan yanked on his arm. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t want me.”

  “Don’t do this. Not interested.”

  She moved to stand in front of him, snaked her arms around his neck, and pressed her breasts against his chest. “What happens here, stays here.” She ground her hips against him. “Come on, you know you want to.”

  Jesus, he was living a cheap porn flick. Her perfume choked him and coated his lungs with the sickening smell. He dragged her hands off his neck and held her arms in front so they covered her breasts. “Stop. I’m going.”

  Morgan pouted and fluttered her lashes. “I-I’ve wanted you for so long.” Her gaze dropped to his crotch, and her mouth gaped open. “I thought it was mutual.”

  “Nope.”

  He strode through the door and downed the stairs two at a time while his mind ticked through all their interactions. He’d never led her on. She had to be unstable or something. The long ride back home tomorrow would be a shit sandwich. He’d never be able to look at her the same.

  His phone rang on his way to his room.

  Morgan.

  Better answer or she might show up at his door half-dressed.

  “It’s me. Look, I’m sorry. I feel so—”

  “Forget it. This is done.”

  “You made that clear.”

  He unlocked the door and tossed his key on the bureau. “You left me no choice.”

  “Well, I’m sorry. I hope we can still be friends.”

  She and the elephant would never fit in the same room. Best to be direct. “You can’t put the bullet back in the chamber once you fire the gun.”

  She sniffled. “Can you at least forgive me?”

  More acting. Not buying it. “I need to go now.”

  “Okay. I’ll be ready by seven tomorrow.” She sounded chipper, like he’d said no to turn down service instead of being serviced.

  “Make it six, and meet me in the lobby.” Fully clothed, for Christ’s sake. He hung up.

  Sarah had been right about Morgan. Sure, she flirted, but until now, he’d assumed it was harmless, filling some need she had for attention. He’d related to her because they’d both lost their families, she didn’t seem to have many friends, and their horses challenged each other.

  Him-Morgan-Sarah. All together at the farm.

  What a clusterfuck.

  If Sarah found out what happened, she’d flip. She already couldn’t stand Morgan. He blew out a breath. No point in telling her. Morgan sure as hell wouldn’t run around announcing what happened. He’d take her home. Pretend none of this had happened. Over and done. Time to move on.

  Morgan yanked off her heels and threw them across the room. She jerked the champagne bottle out of the bucket and chugg
ed it until her throat burned, stomping around the suite.

  No man had ever turned her down. Bruce had to be blind. That bimbo ballerina had nothing on her. Broke, dirty, and smelled like manure. Damn the bitch. She’d better be gone when they returned.

  A red haze blurred Morgan’s vision. She gulped more champagne. In front of the bathroom now, she hurled the bottle against the ceramic tub, where it shattered with a satisfying crash, sending glass shards flying through the room.

  “Fuck you!” She stabbed her fingers through her hair and squeezed her head.

  Fuck them both. They’d pay. She took a deep breath. Time for plan B.

  After stripping off her lingerie, she shoved her arms into the robe, sat on the couch, and kicked the lacy pile with her foot. No hot-blooded straight man could resist her outfit. Goddamned goody-two-shoes. No wonder her stupid sister had fallen for him. Two peas in a pod. Took the man four years to get over Emily, then he picked Sarah, another pitiful loser.

  Morgan drummed her fingers on the padded armrest. If she couldn’t lure him into bed, she’d reap her revenge another way. She stroked her chin.

  Losing Sarah would kill him.

  Nothing could be more perfect. Just when he’d found another love. He’d never recover from a second devastating loss. This would be even better than her running away. With luck, she hadn’t left yet.

  And if he considered an accident a tragic way to die, murder would be worse.

  Morgan took a deep breath and let it out. Her brain buzzed from the champagne, and hot hatred streaked through her body.

  Yes.

  Her sister would turn in her grave when Morgan destroyed the man she’d loved.

  Chapter 37

  Sarah finished her lunch and checked her watch. Bruce would be coming back soon. Her heart ached. He’d kept so much from her.

  Fluffy pawed at the suite door.

  As soon as she opened it, he zoomed out. He sniffed in circles around the grass, ran over to a fence post, lifted one leg, and peed. Sarah spotted Batal across the field near the woods. She glanced at the stables. No one in sight. She ran toward Batal, calling to him. Fluffy gave chase, always up for a new game.

  The stallion snorted and trotted closer to the woods. Sarah ran faster. When she reached the edge of the forest, the dog raced ahead and stopped in front of the trees. He pinned back his ears, bared his fangs, and growled.

  Batal pranced and pawed at the ground. Sarah’s gaze flew to the tree line. The tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood up.

  The dog ran between Batal and the woods. He barked and jumped at the horse until Batal took off in the direction of the stables. Becca came out of the barn entrance, waved, and ran toward the stallion.

  Fluffy turned back to the woods and crept closer, a menacing growl deep in his throat. The forest lay still with not the slightest hint of a breeze.

  The leaves of a large bush shook.

  Sarah broke out in a cold sweat.

  Low to the ground, the dog inched closer to the woods, his growl louder. Whatever it was, she didn’t plan to stick around and find out. She lunged for Fluffy’s collar and yanked him away from the woods. “Come.”

  Her grip tight on him, she used all her strength to drag the dog back to the suite.

  When she got inside, she slammed the door shut and locked it. Out of breath, heart pounding, she leaned against the wall. Her throwaway phone rang, and she jumped.

  Anne’s panicked voice came over the line. “Thank God you’re okay.”

  “What’s wrong?” Sarah clutched the phone to her ear.

  “I think the stalker’s found you.”

  Sarah’s gut knotted. “What? Why do you think that?”

  “Somehow he got Mom and Dad’s address. He sent them a letter. The postmark is from the town where you are.”

  “What?” She dashed to the window and peeked out from behind the curtain at the woods.

  “I wrote down what he said. I wasn’t sure if Mom should mail it to you as evidence.”

  “What did the letter say?”

  Anne read it aloud.

  Sarah’s hands shook. She squeezed her eyes shut and dropped to the couch. “What should I do?”

  “He hasn’t contacted you? Done anything?”

  “I think someone might be in the woods. Also, the other night the back door was unlocked, and I could have sworn I locked it.”

  Silence.

  “Anne?”

  “I’m thinking.” The words came out sharp. “Sorry. I’m upset. I don’t have an answer.”

  “I can’t go to the police because there’s nothing physical to give them.”

  “This letter is physical and threatening. But they can’t do anything until he makes a move. No one even knows who he is.”

  “I need to leave. Now. I can’t risk him hurting anyone here. If he’s in the woods, I should be able to make it out to the front road before he catches up.”

  She ran into the bedroom and yanked the duffel bag out of the closet. “He’ll know I left, but I can lure him away and escape again.”

  “Lure? Jesus, no.”

  “What are the choices, Anne? This is my problem. These people don’t deserve to be in the middle of this.”

  “Do you have enough cash? A place to go?”

  “Yeah. I know the drill.” Sweat trickled down her chest. “I had somewhere picked out in case this happened.”

  She rushed to the dresser, tugged the top drawer open, and threw the contents into her bag. “Oh my God.”

  “What? What’s wrong?”

  “No, no, no, no, no.” She fumbled around in the empty drawer. “It’s gone. It’s gone—”

  “What’s gone? You’re scaring me.”

  “My license. I hid it in here in my dresser.” She rifled through the panties in the bag. Her pink thong was also missing. “That sick bastard. He took a pair of my underwear.”

  “Shit. I forgot to tell you. Your license was in the note to Mom and Dad too.”

  Sarah’s head throbbed. “I have to get out of here.”

  “No. Don’t hang up. I want to—”

  She ended the call. No time to pack anything else. From the bottom of the duffel, she dug out her gun and stuffed it into her purse. God, she hoped she never had to use it.

  She grabbed her keys along with the bags and hurried to the car. Without even a goodbye, she had to leave everyone she’d come to care about. And Bruce, who she loved. Pain ripped through her.

  Stuffing her purse under her arm, she popped the trunk and tossed her bags inside. Her gaze darted to the woods. The stalker might be watching her right now. He’d know she’d left but would be hard pressed to get to the front in time. She’d keep checking the rearview mirror to spot a tail and dump the car as soon as possible.

  Bruce pulled out of Morgan’s driveway. Thank God she was out of his truck. He had to give it to the woman, she’d chatted the whole way home as if nothing had happened. Bands, music, her commercials, the new horse. She kept talking despite his lack of response. He hated how she’d acted and had no respect for her anymore. He could almost forgive her for trying, but the way she’d thrown herself at him and said she’d never tell was too much. She didn’t know him at all.

  It had been hard as hell to keep his cool on the trip back, but he’d treated it like another mission. His responsibility to take her home. He’d buy the therapy horse himself. Sever their tie. Maybe she’d be uncomfortable enough to find another place to board Princess. Doubtful, though, considering her complete apparent lack of remorse. He shook his head and drove. What a fucking mess.

  When he rounded a curve, he passed Sarah’s car heading in the opposite direction on the two-lane road. Her gaze was on the rearview mirror, a panicked look on her face. She glanced at him at the last second.

  An alarm went off in his head. She never drove the Honda.

  He slammed on the brakes, and the truck screeched to a stop. Ears ringing, he threw it in reverse, turned around, and punched t
he accelerator. She was speeding, but he caught up to her and beeped the horn.

  When she looked in the mirror, he thrust his hand out the window and pointed to the side of the road. She shook her head and kept driving.

  Screw that. His pulse thrummed faster than a racecar on the final lap. He slammed the gas pedal to the floor, tore past the Honda, then slowed down. Shoving his arm out the window, he pointed to the side of the road again. This time she pulled off onto the shoulder.

  He leaped out of the truck, stormed to her car, and yanked the door open. “What the hell are you doing?”

  Her eyes were wide in her ghost-white face. “I have to leave. He found me. Get out of here. Now!” She tried to shut the door but Bruce stood in the way.

  Tension bit the lining of his stomach. He whipped his head around to survey the road behind them. “What do you mean he found you?”

  “I need to go. Get as far away from me as you can.” Her hand shook as she attempted to push him aside.

  “You’re not going anywhere. Damn it.” Christ, he’d almost missed her. He pounded a fist on the roof of the car.

  “I can’t let him hurt anyone. He’s crazy. I have to leave.” She tried again to shove him out of the way.

  “Like hell.” He unsnapped her seat belt, dragged her out of the car, and threw her over his shoulder.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” She wriggled and flailed against him, but he held her tight and carried her to his truck.

  “Taking you to my place.”

  “Let me down. I’m not going with you.” She pummeled his back with her fists.

  He opened the passenger door and tossed her on the seat. “Wrong answer.”

  “I can’t leave the car. My gun and backpack are in it.”

  He slammed the door shut. “Fine. Don’t you move a muscle. If you get out, I’ll just throw you right back in.” He brought his face close to hers through the open window and held a finger up. “Don’t test me.”

  She glanced at her lap and rubbed her arm.