Call Me Irresistible (Wynette, Texas #5)(125)

She walked faster still, but the steady hum of the engine didn't fade. It wasn't her imagination. The car was definitely following her, and she had a block to go.

A police car sped by on the cross street, siren blaring, red light pulsing in the rain. Her breath came more quickly as the limousine pulled up next to her, its dark windows menacing in the night. She started to run, but the car stayed with her. Out of the corners of her eyes, she saw one of the back windows slide down.

"Want a lift?"

The last face she'd ever have expected to see peered out at her. She stumbled on the uneven pavement, so dizzy she nearly fell. After everything she'd done to cover her tracks, here he was, framed in that open window, his features shadowed.

For weeks, she'd labored deep into the night, focusing only on her work, not letting herself think, refusing to sleep until she was too exhausted to go on. She was ragged and empty, in no condition to talk to anyone, let alone him. "No thanks," she managed. "I'm almost home."

"You look a little wet." A shaft of light from a streetlamp cut across one molded cheekbone.

He couldn't do this to her. She wouldn't let him. Not after all that had happened. She started to walk again, but the limo stayed even with her.

"You really shouldn't be out here by yourself," he said.

She understood him well enough to know exactly what lay behind his sudden appearance. A guilty conscience. He hated hurting people, and he needed to reassure himself that she wasn't permanently damaged. "Don't worry about it," she said.

"Would you mind getting in the car?"

"No need. I'm almost home." She told herself not to say any more, but curiosity got the best of her. "How did you find me?"

"Believe me, it wasn't easy."

She kept her eyes straight ahead and didn't slacken her pace. "One of my brothers," she said. "You got to them."

She should have known they'd cave. Last week, Dylan had taken a detour from Boston to tell her Ted's calls were driving them all nuts and she needed to talk to him. Clay sent her a stream of text messages. Dude sounds desperate, his last one said. Who knows what he might do?

Worst-case scenario? she'd replied. He'll miss a 4-foot putt.

Ted waited until a taxi passed before he replied. "Your brothers gave me nothing but trouble. Clay even told me you'd left the country. I forgot he was an actor."



       
         
       
        

"I told you he was good."

"It took me a while, but I finally realized you wouldn't accept money from your parents anymore. And I couldn't see you leaving the country with what you took out of your checking account."

"How do you know what I took out of my checking account?"

Even in the dusky light, she could see him raise his eyebrow. She moved on with a snort of disgust.

"I knew you'd ordered some of your jewelry materials on the Internet," he said. "I made a list of possible suppliers and got Kayla to call them."

She stepped around a broken whiskey bottle. "I'm sure she was more than willing to help you out."

"She told everyone that she owned a boutique in Phoenix and she was trying to find the designer of some jewelry she'd spotted in Texas. She described a few of your pieces-said she wanted to carry them in her store. Yesterday she got your address."

"And here you are. A wasted trip."

He had the nerve to sound angry. "Do you think we could have this conversation inside the limo?"

"No." He could deal with his guilt all by himself. Guilt didn't add up to love, an emotion she was done with forever.

"I really need you to get in the car." He grunted out the words.

"I really need you to go to hell."

"I just got back, and trust me, it's not all it's cracked up to be."

"Sorry about that."

"Damn it." The door swung open, and he jumped out while the limo was still moving. Before she could react, he was dragging her to the car.

"Stop it! What are you doing?"

The limo had finally braked. He pushed her inside, climbed in after her, and slammed the door. The locks clicked. "Consider yourself officially kidnapped."

The car began to move again, its driver hidden behind the closed partition. She grabbed the door handle, but it didn't budge. "Let me out! I don't believe you're doing this. What's wrong with you? Are you crazy?"

"Pretty much."

She'd delayed looking at him for as long as she could. Any longer, and he'd see weakness. Slowly she turned her head.

He was as dazzling as ever with those tiger eyes and bladed cheekbones, that straight nose and movie-star jaw. He wore a charcoal gray business suit with a white shirt and navy tie. She hadn't seen him so formally dressed since his wedding day, and she struggled against a dark tide of emotion. "I mean it," she said. "Let me out right now."