Stolen(25)

He was behaving as though this was normal, appropriate, even polite behavior. A hot burst of anger flared inside her, setting her cheeks on fire. “Get out!”

He grabbed her by the wrists and pulled her toward him. “C’mon, Caitlin. I just want to talk to you. I didn’t know a better way to get you alone. And let this be a lesson to you. Always lock the door.”

He had the nerve, with his fingers locked around her wrists and digging painfully into her flesh, to assert that he was looking out for her—teaching her a lesson. A spider crawling up her back would’ve creeped her out less. And she had locked the door she entered by. But this was a massive, multi-room suite and the bath could be entered from either side. She’d made the mistake of assuming the door on the opposite side was already locked. A mistake she wouldn’t make twice. Grady had gone back around and then entered via the other door.

“Any one of these sketchy detectives, all of whom have less consideration for your dignity than I do, could’ve walked in on you.”

“The only sketchy one around here is you. So take your hands off me.” She jerked her wrists free and pushed him away.

“Relax, Caitlin. You misunderstand my intent.”

Doubtful. She took a step back. He took a bigger one forward. She considering grinding her heel into his instep, but she knew he’d draw satisfaction from it. It would prove he’d gotten to her. It would make her appear frightened. And she wasn’t frightened. She was pissed. Grady might be twice her size, but she didn’t need to fear him . . . at least not in this moment. Just outside the door, an entire room full of detectives—not to mention Spense—stood at the ready. Grady was too smart to take things further while they were in a setting where he was certain to be found out.

She waited a moment for her breathing to return to normal, then said, “You admitted you followed me into the bathroom. That’s way out of line, and you know it. Don’t ever do that to me again. In the future, if you want to speak to me alone, you’ll need to ask my permission. I may or may not give it, as is my right.” Then she smiled, as graciously as she could manage to do while picturing herself gouging his eyes out. “However, it seems you’ve caught me in a generous mood.” She swept her palm out invitingly. “If you want to chat in a bathroom, then by all means, let’s.” For good measure she straightened her shoulders and moved in close. Now she was the invader of personal space. “What’s up, Grady?”

“That’s what I’d like to know.”

“Not following.” She checked out her fingernails to signal her indifference.

“From the moment we said hello in the limo, you’ve been acting distant.”

“I’ve been polite.”

“You’ve been formal, even cold. I can’t imagine what I could possibly have done to deserve such treatment from a very dear old friend.”

One of them needed a reality check, and it wasn’t her. “Then let me explain it to you. A: We’re not dear old friends or any other kind of friends. B: You shouldn’t have said a damn word about our past relationship in front of other people.”

“You’re the one who insisted on making it known.”

“Not at all. I simply insisted on not pretending we’d never met. Your subterfuge is what called attention to it. Made it seem like a big deal. Even though we only dated briefly, and so long ago.”

“But it was a big deal. I was your first. And it wasn’t so long ago.”

“Not my first. But, I was young and—”

“Beautiful.”

“I was going to say impressionable. And you were someone I looked up to—my teacher and mentor. You took advantage of my naiveté and because of my father, you knew I’d be vulnerable to an older, wiser man.”

“Really, Caitlin, you make me sound like a terrible letch. A dirty old man. When in truth, I’m little more than a decade your senior. And if you’ve got a daddy complex, that’s hardly my fault.”

She’d never punched a man in the face, but a first time just might be on the horizon.

“I didn’t force myself on you. As I recall, you were quite enamored of me.”

“In the beginning, yes. But when I tried to end things, you refused to accept it. You stalked me through the halls of the hospital.”

“I worked at the hospital. You were my resident. I was your attending. It was my job to keep close tabs on you. And I fully embraced the breakup. I, too, was happy to part ways . . . eventually.” He raised his right hand. “Caitlin, I swear to you that it was Inga, not you, who was the love of my life. Inga’s loss is what keeps me up nights. It’s her face I see in my dreams when I do finally fall asleep. This may come as a crushing blow to your inflated ego, but I haven’t given you a second thought in that way since the day I met my sweet Inga. So, rest easy, darling. I have absolutely no intention of trying to rekindle a dead flame.”