Straightening, he shut the door and faced her. “You ever going to tell me what that kiss in the club was all about?”
She groaned and reached to swipe the sweater from his hands. “It would be nice if you could just forget all about that.”
He held on when she pulled. “Sorry, that might’ve worked on Mike, but even if I wanted to, forgetting that kiss is never going to happen.”
Despite the dim light on the street, color was evident in her cheeks. “Fine. It was a dare. My friend Jayne said I needed to show Jackson I’d moved on and dared me to pick a…guy…and kiss him.”
“Ouch.” He laid his palm over his heart as if she’d just wounded him. And she kinda had. “That’s so random. You could’ve just as easily picked Mike over me.”
“I could have,” she confirmed with a teasing grin.
Now his ego was gasping for breath. He released the material in his hands in mock disgust. “Well, damn it. The whole thing is ruined now.”
“Oh, please. Somehow, I think you’ll recover just fine.”
She turned and reached for the door, but he extended a hand to keep her from opening it. He moved in closer and trapped her against the vehicle with his other hand on the opposite side of her. Her startled gaze rose to meet his, and that beguiling violet hue sucked him right in.
“Fix it,” he murmured. “I dare you.”
Chapter 11
Oh, God, he was daring her to kiss him again. After the time they’d spent together, and the memory of his lips on hers, she clenched her fingers in the material of her sweater to check her immediate impulse to grab his jacket and drag his long, hard body against hers.
“I’m not fixing anything,” she managed in a relatively normal voice. “I didn’t make you ask the question, and it’s not my fault you didn’t like the answer.”
His warm brown gaze held hers a moment longer, then he shook his head with an exaggerated sigh of disappointment. “I thought you were braver than that.”
Nope, she was a big chicken. Even more so when it came to him, because despite knowing he was probably using her, in just one single evening, she was beginning to really like him. But he would be twice as dangerous to her heart as Jackson, and she was nowhere near ready for those consequences.
She lifted her chin. “I’m as brave as I need to be when the situation calls for it.”
With a wry grin, Dean shifted sideways and reached behind her for the door handle. She quickly scooted out of the way so he could open the door, then hopped inside. As she took a couple deep breaths to steady her racing heart, her gaze tracked his progress around the front of the vehicle.
If the man had any clue how tempted she was to accept his dare, he’d have kissed her anyway. And she’d have been lost.
He got in and started the vehicle without a word. A swirling mix of relief and disappointment left her with no clue what to say, and he didn’t seem to feel a need to fill the silence as he drove. Other than the radio on low, quiet reigned until he turned into the parking lot of the building that housed her rented office.
As he slowed to a stop by her car, she unfastened her seatbelt and started to reach for the door handle.
Before she could pull the lever, he said, “I suppose I should apologize—”
“No, it’s—”
“—but I won’t.”
“Oh.” She looked across the console at him, and had to fight answering his smile with one of her own. “Okay.”
“The thing is, I like you—and I’m not just saying that to get you to talk about Jack. Frankly, I’m sick of the sonofabitch, so we could never talk about him again and I’d be fine with that.”
“Me, too.”
“Good. So, just so you know, the dare stands, should you decide to accept it.”
Containing her grin took everything she had as she opened her door and got out of his SUV. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“I’m counting on it.”
His low voice stirred butterflies in her stomach and had her reconsidering right then. She could just lean in, reach across the seat, grab a fistful of his jacket and—
No.
“Don’t forget your dessert,” he reminded as she swung the door shut.
She grabbed her leftovers, and the Tiramisu from the back seat, and after a quick, “Goodnight,” transferred to her own car. Only after she was buckled in and had the engine started did Dean begin to drive toward the exit. He was probably going back home to work on his program for a few more hours.
The thought reminded her of his comment that there was a lot at stake, for him and his employees, and she realized he’d completely deflected her question about whether or not his company was in trouble.
She knew what that was like even though she didn’t have anyone depending on her. In fact, there were a few things she could get done at home tonight as well. Dessert and a cup of coffee would get her through an hour or two.
Except, she remembered she’d left her laptop sitting on her desk. In fact, she’d been in such a rush to get Dean out, she realized she hadn’t even logged out. After a moment of debate, she shut off her car, locked it, and headed into the building.
The entrance and hallways were well lit, but the larger businesses that made up the main floor only had a few low-watt security lights on. She hurried over and hit the call button on the wall, because without Dean’s overwhelming presence, at this time of night, she preferred the elevator.
On the fourth floor, the ding of the arriving elevator car gave a final echo in the silent hall as she stepped out to glance in each direction. This level was mostly small business owners, and all of them had gone home for the night. Not a single light on. Her pulse skipped a beat, and she reminded herself she was only going to be here long enough to grab her laptop.
In the middle of pulling her keys from her pocket, she noticed broken glass glittering on the steel-gray carpeting in front of her door. Her fingers curled around the metal until the sharp teeth of the individual keys bit into her skin. A rush of fear-fueled adrenaline lodged her heart at the back of her throat and backed her up against the opposite wall.
With her free hand, she fumbled for her phone in her purse. Darting her gaze back and forth along the hall, she verified she was still alone. Right now, the fact seemed a double-edged sword. She keyed in 9-1-1 while gingerly easing along the wall until she could see into her office.
Her thumb hovered above the send button on her phone as she scanned for any moving shadows. The light from the hallway illuminated enough inside to confirm the room was empty. Everything was still. Her gaze landed on her laptop, still open upon the desk. She blew out a soft breath of relief, and felt a bit of the tension leave her shoulders.
She pocketed her phone and moved forward to push open the office door. The bottom scraped across even more fragments of glass on the inside. Shards crunched with a muted sound between her shoes and the carpet as she reached to flip on the light.
Hand still on the door handle, she froze as it registered that all her neatly packed boxes had been overturned and scattered across the floor. Papers and design samples covered every available surface: the carpeting, her desk, her small design table, Grace’s old desk.
Shock gave way to anger.
The loud ding of the elevator made her jump and electrified her pulse.
Oh God, they’re coming back!
She whirled around to search for an escape route as a second surge of adrenaline coursed through her body. Other than the elevator, the only way out was the stairs, and she’d have to run past the arriving car to reach them.
A quick reach flicked the lights off again, and she let the door go to dash behind her desk. An open drawer connected with her shin. She sucked in a gasp and blinked away instant tears as she dropped to her knees in the space where her chair belonged. Pain throbbed in her leg with each frantic thump of her heart.
Seconds ticked by so slow each one felt like a minute. Icy fingers of fear clawed up her spine, raising the hai
r on the back of her neck as her lungs compressed in her chest until she could barely gulp in enough oxygen. Paper crinkled beneath her trembling limbs, ten times louder in the terrifying silence.
What could she do? She had no means of protection, no weapon. Her gaze hopelessly scanned the floor in the dark as she wondered if she could risk reaching into her top drawer for her letter opener.
If only she’d completed the call to 911.
She scrambled to pull her cell from her jacket pocket and keyed in the number 9 when she heard a rough-sounding “Sonofabitch,” as the office door scraped against the glass on the floor again. Her hand shook so bad she nearly dropped the phone.
Light flooded the room again. “Gina?”
Dean’s alarmed voice brought her out of hiding so fast she slipped on the paper beneath her feet and fell back against the wall. She banged her head as the little bit of air she’d managed whooshed from her chest.
He rushed around the desk, and his warm hand engulfed hers. One pull brought her to her feet. “Are you okay?”
She nodded while catching her breath and her balance. More involuntary tears flooded her eyes and she tried to blink them away. “I’m fine.”
“You’re sure?” His hands gripped her shoulders and his piercing gaze roved over her face and then down the rest of her body.
“Yes. I just—you scared me half to death.”
“I’m sorry.” He pulled her into a hug.
She didn’t resist as his strong arms wrapped her in a rock-solid, protective cocoon that smelled of leather and man. The hand that rose to gently rub the back of her sore head pressed her face to his chest. The steady beat of his heart beneath her cheek reassured her she was safe, and she squeezed her eyes shut against the delayed flood of relief that weakened her knees.
It finally registered that she’d seen him drive away, and she reluctantly pushed from the comfort of his arms and wiped the moisture from her face. “What are you doing here? I thought you went home?”
“I saw you go inside and didn’t like the idea of you up here alone this late at night. You weren’t planning to work longer, were you?”
She’d stayed late alone plenty of times, but his disapproving concern warmed her heart. Especially since tonight the concern part was warranted. “I realized I forgot my laptop earlier,” she explained, finally feeling a bit more composed. “I certainly didn’t expect this.”
“You should’ve called 911 immediately.”
“I was about to when I heard the elevator and thought whoever did this had come back.” She glanced around and saw her phone lying on the floor under her desk. Before she could even take a step forward, Dean bent to scoop it up. He glanced at the screen, then shifted his gaze to her desk as he extended the phone to her.
“Your laptop is still here.”
“Thank God.”
“No, I mean, obviously, someone broke in, so why didn’t they take your computer?”
“I don’t know.” She hadn’t even thought of it that way, but now that he mentioned it, it was weird. Suspicion and curiosity pulled her to the desk. Not that she had anything on it of worth to anyone else, but it made no sense that a thief would leave easy money behind.
She reached with one finger to press the space bar and disengage the screen saver. The password-protected security screen came up.
Dean moved in close enough for her to feel his body heat. “That how you left it?”
She nodded even though she was fighting awareness of him so she could do the math in her head. Her timer was set for two hours because with the number of things that took her away from the computer while she was working, she had gotten tired of constantly being prompted for her password. She’d left the office with Dean almost three hours ago.
Okay, so what was the person looking for that they’d left her laptop alone? Her attention shifted to the papers all over the floor.
“Do you keep anything else of value in here?”
“No.”
“Money? Bank statements? Other important documents? Anything?” He tossed the questions over his shoulder as he walked toward the door.
A frown formed as she watched him. “No. The most valuable thing in here is my laptop.”
He was in the hall now, looking down one side, then the other. “Did you notice if any other offices had been broken in to?”
“Not really. I was in a hurry and focused on my own door.”
He turned back to face her. “Are you okay to stay here if I take a quick look on this floor?”
She swallowed hard, but didn’t want to admit she was still rattled and didn’t want to be alone. “Go ahead. I should probably start picking up this mess.”
“No. You should call the police and don’t touch anything.”
She huffed out a shaky sigh of frustration as he disappeared. If she could clean up, it would’ve at least kept her mind busy. Instead, she finally finished her call to 911.
Chapter 12
The sinking ball of lead in Dean’s stomach hit rock bottom when he reached the final office at the end of the hall on the fourth floor and discovered no other break-ins. He pulled out his phone, dreading the call, but knowing he had to make it before the police arrived.
His VP answered on the third ring. “Hey, I told you, you didn’t have to call me back.”
“Tell me it wasn’t you.”
“Okay. It wasn’t me.”
Sonofabitch. He fisted his free hand against the windowsill as he stared out at the mostly empty parking lot. He wished he was having this conversation face to face so he could tell if his friend was being his usual smart-ass self, or if he was serious.
“Mike, I need you to tell me the truth right now. The police are already on the way, and if you left prints, they’re going to find them.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
The genuine confusion in his voice convinced Dean he wasn’t simply trying to play innocent.
“Gina’s office was broken into while we were at dinner. We’re waiting for the cops right now.” In the weighted silence that followed, Dean cringed and turned to lean his butt against the windowsill.
“Wow,” Mike said quietly. “And I was your first guess.”
He drew in a deep breath but refused to apologize. “Yes. And if the roles were reversed in the same situation, I’d have been your first guess. After the conversation we had earlier, we both know that’s true.” Because they had each other’s backs.
A sigh whooshed across the line. “Okay, fine. I’ll give you that.” Once again, his voice confirmed he meant what he said. “So, what’s your take on it?”
Dean raked his hand through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know. Her office is the only one with a break-in, but she swears nothing was taken. They even left her laptop wide open on her desk. The rest of the place is trashed, as if they were looking for something.”
A flash of headlights in the corner of his eye turned his head to see a squad car pulling into the lot.
“Cops are here,” he said as he lowered his arm. “I gotta go.”
“Wait—did she act like she was hiding anything? Or worried something was missing?”
“No. The computer seemed to be her only concern.” He straightened, his gaze shifting down the hall as it dawned on him that he’d left her alone with all the evidence. If she did have something to hide, she could be doing it right now. “Listen, just in case, give Quinn a call and have him keep an eye on this through his police contacts. Off the record, of course.”
“Will do. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
Dean disconnected the call and quickly strode back to Gina’s office. His heart skipped when he didn’t see her at first, but all of a sudden her head popped up from behind the desk. He frowned as he stepped inside the room. “What are you doing?”
“Checking to see if my password cheat sheet is still here.”
“I said not to touch anything.”
“I’m being careful
,” she assured him.
“You’re not supposed to keep your passwords with your computer—or even write them down, for that matter.”
“I have them hidden,” she retorted. “And who can remember all their darn passwords these days?”
He came around to her side of the desk to see her computer screen was still locked in security mode. It didn’t appear she’d been messing with it, and right now, she was busy craning her neck to peer into the dark recess behind her top desk drawer.
“Is it still there?”
She nodded, but a frown knit her brow.
“What?”
She shook her head and got to her feet. “Nothing. It’s fine. It’s still here.”
“Like everything else appears to be,” he muttered.
“I know. I don’t get it.” Her gaze darted toward the hall. “Did you find anything else?”
“No. Yours is the only office with a break-in.”
“Great. I’m the lucky one.”
Maybe that’s all this was. Her bad luck of the draw with some kids or a low-bit thief looking for some money.
Except the laptop didn’t make any sense with that theory. Not to mention, he’d seen plenty of items in more than half the other offices that would’ve made any one of them a more lucrative risk. There had to be a specific reason hers had been chosen.
The ding of the elevator drew her wide gaze.
“That’s the police,” he said. “I saw them pull in.”
She visibly relaxed, and he put a reassuring hand against the small of her back as they both headed out into the hall. Of the two cops who approached, the male officer was shorter, with sandy-blond hair and a stocky build. He introduced himself as Officer Mueller, and his female partner as Officer Nilsen. She was a bit taller, and wore her brown hair pulled back in a low ponytail. Both looked about to be in their early thirties.
Trust by Design Page 8