The Playboy Meets His Match

by Sara Orwig

  “She told me about Dorian jilting her sister.”

  “Which he denies. Is there any proof?”

  “Not a shred. She said that he always had reasons for what he did or did not do. He avoided leaving any incriminating trail: no pictures, no ring, nothing. She’d bought a wedding dress and was planning her wedding when he left. He cleaned out her account.”

  Rob’s brows arched. “Any proof of that?”

  “No, but I wanted you to know what Merry said.”

  “Merry? You’re on a first-name basis. That’s good.”

  “I’m telling you, shut up.”

  Rob laughed and then sobered. “Do you believe Meredith Silver? Slashing Dorian’s tires and bursting into the club doesn’t give her much credibility.”

  Jason remembered big smokey eyes, her earnest voice. “I think she’s telling the truth.”

  “We’ll keep an eye on Dorian. In spite of his rock-solid alibi, it’s beginning to sound suspiciously as though he’s our man. And if he is, I don’t need to tell you, he’s dangerous.” Rob clamped a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “There’s a good rookie cop I can get when he’s off duty to help you keep an eye on the Valkyrie.”

  “Go to hell, Cole. I’ll find her today.” Jason snapped, knowing he would be in for teasing for the next few weeks, if not longer.

  The two men walked out together and parted in the parking lot. As soon as he slid behind the wheel, Jason turned the ignition, driving out of the lot and heading for the Royalton Hotel. He was going to find Merry Silver and when he did, she wasn’t getting away again.

  Two hours later, as he sat in a hot car across from the Royalton, he swore under his breath. “Where is she?” he asked himself, climbing out of the car and deciding to take another approach to locating Merry.

  Merry spent the morning looking at apartments, finally deciding on one a block off Main Street. She met the landlord at the office, a tall, gaunt man named Willard Smythe who was unhappy to discover she didn’t have a regular job. For once in her life, Merry tossed out a mention of her mother’s vocation and as she expected, she won Mr. Smythe’s grudging approval.

  He reminded her of a crane, with his long legs and tufts of blond hair and a peculiar way of jutting his head out, and she suspected he would have liked to turn her away.

  “This is a very quiet area, Miss Silver,” he stated firmly.

  “I lead a very quiet life,” she said, or she had until Jason Windover had crashed into it.

  “Hmpf. Most of our tenants are widowed or married. We don’t have young singles. Now on Berry Street there are two apartment complexes you might find more to your liking.”

  “I like this place. It’s quiet and charming. May I see the apartment that’s available?”

  He sighed and stood. “Come this way.” He stopped at the door to look at her. “Miss Silver. Let me repeat—this is a very quiet place. There are no wild parties.”

  Since when did she look like the wild-party type? she wondered. “I promise that you’ll never know I’m here except when I pay my rent.”

  “Yes. Well, we’ll hope,” he muttered and turned to lead the way to a small apartment that faced the front gates.

  The two-year-old apartment had lots of glass that gave it a sunny, spacious look even though it was small. The entryway opened onto a living area, an adjoining small dining room, a kitchen that was bright and cheerful in blue and white. She liked the cozy, high-walled patio, although she didn’t expect to have the apartment for a long time.

  The security of twenty-four-hour armed guards at the gates was reassuring. After cajoling, holding firm and finally making a deal with Mr. Smythe to help him get his records into computer files, she made arrangements to rent the apartment for a month. She made a deposit and drove back to the Royalton, circling the block and spotting Jason’s black pickup parked along the curb across from the hotel.

  Jason wasn’t in the pickup, but she couldn’t be certain he wasn’t close by, watching for her, so she kept driving, circling around and approaching the hotel from the back entrance. She turned into the hotel parking, gave the valet the car key and entered the hotel, stepping into a gift shop to survey what she could of the hall and lobby. She didn’t see a tall Texan, a broad-brimmed hat or any other sign of Jason.

  Moving carefully to the stairs, she hurried up and in minutes closed the door behind her as she entered the second room she had rented at the hotel. It was expensive to have two rooms, but it had enabled her to escape being found by Jason last night. This room was rented under her youngest sister’s name: Claudia Barclay. Claudia Barclay Silver had an old family name as her middle name and it was serving Merry well now. She didn’t want Jason to find her again soon, so extra precautions were in order. She didn’t think he believed one word of what she had told him about Dorian Brady.

  “Men!” she said aloud. She set down the bag of items she had in her arms and began to plan for the evening.

  That night Merry sat in a corner booth in the almost empty Royal Diner. Only one waitress was working and Manny was cooking. The short time she had been in Royal, Merry had heard about Manny’s hamburgers and his pork chops. She had also heard about Jason Windover’s playboy reputation.

  Through the window of the grill kitchen Manny was visible in a white undershirt that revealed muscled shoulders and arms. At the long Formica countertop, red, vinyl-covered bar stools stood empty which was a relief to Merry because a crowd would interfere with her plans. An old sentimental ballad played on the ancient jukebox.

  Excitement bubbled in her because she was going to strike again in Dorian Brady’s world. And she was exuberant because the entire day she had eluded Jason Windover. At various times she had seen him watching the hotel. She was tempted to leave another note on his pickup, but by doing so, she might be pushing her luck.

  Almost an hour ago, she had ordered a burger and fries and pop and had a book propped in front of her so it looked as if she were reading while she ate. No one seemed interested in her, and she surreptitiously watched the single waitress and now the only other customer at the diner, Dorian Brady, who sat three booths away from her. The whole time he had been there he had flirted with the waitress and the woman was constantly at his table, hovering over him and giggling at things he told her. Merry caught the name Laura.

  Dressed in navy slacks and a blue sport shirt, Dorian looked handsome, yet Merry could only feel anger every time she looked at him. She wished she could warn the waitress, who seemed as taken with him as Holly had been.

  Merry touched the blond wig she wore and adjusted the fake glasses on her nose. When he’d entered the restaurant, Dorian had glanced her way, but he had never looked at her again. And he shouldn’t recognize her even though he knew she was in town. The blue sweats she wore were well padded, adding lots of pounds to her appearance.

  Motioning to the waitress, Merry asked for her check and in minutes the woman brought it to her.

  As soon as the waitress left, Merry pulled a cellular phone from her pocket. It was nine o’clock and dark outside. Dorian should be just into the first few bites of his dinner. Merry had seen them bring him chicken-fried steak, which suited her purposes fine. She placed a call, turning her back on the room.

  “Royal Diner,” the waitress answered.

  Merry whispered, “Tell Dorian Brady he better check on his car.” She broke the connection quickly and slipped her phone into a pocket.

  As the waitress hurried to Dorian’s table, Merry slid out of the booth to cross the diner to the cash register to pay her bill. She heard the brass bell over the door jingle and glanced around to see Dorian leaving.

  “Was everything all right?” the waitress asked as she stepped behind the register to take Merry’s cash.

  “It was fine,” Merry said.

  “Good. Thanks for eating here. Come back again.”

  “Sure. Thanks,” Merry said. She collected her change, walked back to her table and left a tip. Then she strolled toward the
door, looking at the empty diner and the waitress with her back turned while she brewed a fresh pot of coffee. Manny was bent over with his head in a refrigerator.

  Merry passed Dorian’s plate and paused to shake the contents of an envelope over the thick gravy covering his chicken-fried steak. With one more glance at Manny and the waitress, Merry picked up Dorian’s fork. Ignoring her pounding heart, she stirred the gravy and then replaced the fork and strolled out into the cool night. Heading back into the diner, Dorian passed her, but he didn’t glance her way.

  She climbed into her car and left. “Now, Mr. Dorian Brady, see how you like that!” she said. Soon the man would realize that his misdeeds wouldn’t go completely unpunished.

  She returned the back way to the hotel, took the stairs and whipped out her key. She would stay in her room tomorrow and maybe venture out the next day.

  She stepped into her darkened room, heaving a huge sigh of relief as she reached for the switch. The light came on and her heart lurched.

  “Howdy,” drawled Jason, who sat with his long jeans-clad legs stretched out in front of him.

  In shock, she stood immobilized. “How’d you get in here?” she asked in stunned amazement that he had found her.

  “It wasn’t difficult. Now that’s an interesting outfit.”

  She began to pull her wits together and come out of her shock. All she wanted to do was get away from him.

  She spun around, grabbing the door and yanking it open. With her heart pounding, she ran.

  Hearing him behind her, she headed for the stairs.

  An arm snaked around her waist, and she was yanked back against a rock-hard, lean body. He tossed her over his shoulder again and strode back to her room, kicking the door closed and locking it.

  Crossing the room to the bed, he dumped her on it unceremoniously and stepped to one side, out of kicking range.

  “You’re not going anywhere without me.”

  She was breathing hard, angry and still shocked that he had found her. There was no way to be forceful with the man when she was flat on her back and he was standing over her. She struggled to her feet.

  “This is my room and you get out.”

  “You have the same choice tonight you had last night. You’re coming with me or you’re going to jail. And judging from the way you’re dressed,” he drawled, studying her as if she were a bug under a microscope, “you’ve been up to something.”

  Her heart lurched again. She didn’t want to go to jail. She didn’t want Jason around when the news came out about Dorian.

  “Call the sheriff. I’m not going with you anywhere,” she snapped, trying to give herself a minute to think and to get out from under Jason’s blue-green gaze.

  “Suit yourself,” Jason drawled and strolled to the telephone, punching the number for an outside line, then punching more numbers.

  “Is Sheriff Escobar in?” he asked.

  Merry’s heart thudded as she dashed across the room and broke the connection. Better Jason Windover’s ranch than a cell. And she didn’t want to be sitting in jail when they got word about Dorian eating a dinner laced with chili peppers.

  “I’ll go to your ranch.”

  “Fine.” he said, replacing the receiver. He stood too close and his gaze was too intense.

  He touched her blond wig. “This is interesting,” he said, carefully removing her wig and tossing it on a desk. He removed the fake glasses. “Blond wig, fake glasses, makeup that isn’t like you at all.” He ran his fingers through her hair and tingles shot through her in the wake of his strokes.

  “And this,” he said, holding her shoulders and stepping back to look her over. His finger punched her waist, but she felt nothing because he was poking the padding she was wearing.

  “My, my. No one would look twice at you, would they? It’s a pretty good disguise. Did it work?”

  “I don’t have to answer you.”

  “No, you don’t. You’ve been up to something. You’ve done something to Dorian. Am I going to read about it in the papers?”

  As her cheeks burned, she moved away from him.

  “Pack your stuff. You’re moving to my ranch.”

  Glaring at him, she watched him move to the chair and sit down as if he had no cares in the world. How could the man look so relaxed and then move so fast?

  “I want to shower.”

  “Go right ahead. I’m in no hurry. There aren’t any windows in the bathroom and the air vent is too tiny for even you to wiggle through.”

  She gave him another glare and began gathering up her things.

  “If I am going to read about Dorian in the paper—or worse—hear about him on the late television news, you might be better off to tell me.”

  “I don’t have one thing to tell you.”

  He shrugged, and she continued gathering her clothes, too aware of flimsy lace underwear in her fist. She hurried to the bathroom and locked the door, thankful to escape his watchful eyes. How had he found her?

  Annoyed and worried, she showered, washed her hair and took her time. She dressed in jeans and a blue T-shirt and when she finally emerged from the bathroom, he was reading a magazine.

  Her suitcase lay open on a bed. Wordlessly, she flung her things into it as he watched every move she made.

  “I had a new alarm installed today. You won’t get past this one.”

  “I didn’t intend to,” she answered as haughtily as she could.

  Amusement flared in his eyes while he came to his feet. “Ready to check out of both rooms? You won’t be needing them.”

  “I think I will just go home to Dallas. You can follow me.”

  “No way, lady. Today you rented one of the most exclusive apartments in Royal.”

  “How did you find out—” She clamped her mouth shut, determined she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how shocked she was that he already knew about the apartment. The man wasn’t as out of it as she had first thought. She couldn’t guess how he had learned about the apartment because she knew he hadn’t been following her. If he had, he would never had let her get near Dorian tonight.

  “Do you want to call home and tell anyone where you’ll be? A boyfriend? Your sister? Your mother?”

  “There is no boyfriend. I’ll call my sister.”

  She called and got the answering machine. “Holly, I’ll be at Jason Windover’s ranch. The number is—” She handed him the phone and he said his number and gave her back the telephone.

  “I’m fine and staying at the Windover Ranch. I’ll let you know any developments.” She broke the connection.

  “Ready, Merry?” Jason asked.

  When he said her name, another tingle slithered along her nerves. She nodded and headed for the door. He took her arm and she knew that, in the next few minutes, there wouldn’t be any escaping him.

  She checked out and they left. “What about my car? I can’t leave it here.”

  “You won’t have to. Give me the keys. I’ve already made arrangements to have the hotel keep it tonight and tomorrow one of my hands will pick it up and bring it out to the ranch.”

  Silently she climbed into his pickup and sat far against the door while he drove.

  “I’ll say it again—you should let me know now if you’ve been out doing something evil to Dorian.”

  “I don’t have anything to say to you. You don’t believe me about him, anyway.”

  “I’m open-minded about it. It would be nice if you could come up with some proof, so keep thinking back. Seldom do people avoid leaving some kind of trail. Where did he work when he was dating your sister?”

  “At Denworth Technology.”

  “There, we can check on that.”

  Merry watched Jason as he drove. His answer implied he was thinking about her accusations. “Tell me again about the murder,” she said.

  While Jason talked, she watched his hands resting on the steering wheel and then she looked at his handsome profile. The man was sinfully good-looking and s
he had to keep up her guard because she didn’t want her heart to become another trophy.

  “You’re trying to find a murderer. I think it might be Dorian.”

  Jason shot her a glance. “You don’t like the man, but don’t hang a murder charge on him when you have no proof.”

  “You don’t like him either, do you?” she asked, feeling an undercurrent when Jason talked about Dorian. Jason’s head whipped around in another swift glance.

  “No, I don’t,” he admitted. “I don’t have a reason either, which is bad. I usually like everyone I know. There’s just something about him—I don’t know what it is—”

  “It’s probably his insincerity. He’s as phony as they come. Why don’t you let me help on this murder investigation?”

  Jason smiled. “You’ll have to ask the police.”

  “Cat’s whiskers! You and those Cattleman’s Club member friends of yours are investigating this, aren’t you?” The idea just occurred to her and the more she thought about it and the little things he had said, the more certain she was.

  “What gave you an idea like that?”

  “You’re not denying it, Jason. You know what I think—you said Sebastian had an alibi, but he couldn’t tell people at first. That snooty club of yours is a front. You’re involved in other things. Are you all a bunch of detectives?”

  Silence stretched between them while he shot her another speculative glance. “No, we’re not. That’s rather perceptive, Merry. Rob is a private detective and most of us have military backgrounds with several of us having done some foreign work.”

  “I’m right, aren’t I?”

  “Look, most people don’t know what we do. Let’s leave it that way.”

  “I can keep my mouth shut.”

  “Then please do. It’ll be safer for everyone concerned.”

  “I will, but not around you. You’re not all detectives—so what’s the deal?”

  Again, he was silent a long time and she waited, watching him—which was oh, so easy—while he got an answer formed in his mind. At least he wasn’t lying to her about it.

  “We try to help people when they need help. We can go places and do things that officials can’t always do. But that’s strictly off the record and for your ears only.”