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BOOK 7
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Being Yours BOOK 7
Jackson stood in the doorway to Penny’s apartment, frowning as he surveyed the destruction. His first impulse was to locate the maintenance office and request a shovel, but he refrained and instead took mental notes. The place looked ransacked, or perhaps a bomb had gone off, leaving the walls and ceiling intact but destroying everything else. Or maybe someone had left in a big hurry.Half of the cushions of the yellow and orange striped couch were on the floor; the others were buried beneath layers of clothing, towels and plates stuck with stale, half-eaten food that he estimated were at least a week old. In the dim light, he couldn’t see enough of the carpet to determine what color it was supposed to be, but he guessed a murky brown.The suffocating smell of debris and musty air infused the room. Wads of paper, Styrofoam cups and cereal boxes littered the small kitchen table to his left. Three of the red vinyl chairs were askew; the fourth was turned over. Was it on its side because
Being Yours BOOK 7
The abrupt ringing of the phone stopped Jackson in mid-step. Rachel tensed in his arms as her head came up off his shoulder with a jerk. Without a word, he set her on her feet and grabbed his jeans from the floor as she ran for the kitchen. He heard her soft voice answer, then silence. He zipped up his pants without buttoning them and joined her.She held the receiver to her chest with both hands, then reluctantly held it out to him. ‘It’s for you.’ He took the phone. Without bothering to ask who it was, he asked, ‘What did you find?’‘It took a while,’ Derrick said, ‘but we traced them to a charter that took them to Mexico, Puerto Vallarta to be exact.’‘They?’‘Yeah. Penny and her boyfriend, Mark.’‘Have you found where they’re staying?’‘Not yet.’ Derrick sighed. ‘They’re not using credit cards, so we haven’t been able to trace them.’ Jackson met Rachel’s anxious gaze. ‘What about a return flight?’‘Nothing. Puerto Vallarta is a hot tourist spot, but there’s nothing but mountains a
Being Yours BOOK 7
Leaning over Rachel’s chair, Jackson braced his hands on the wooden arms and whispered against her ear, ‘You look troubled. Is there anything I can do to help?’Her soft intake of air told him he’d startled her. He hadn’t meant to sneak up on her, but she’d been so absorbed in the three cards on the table, he could have entered the room yelling and she wouldn’t have noticed.She turned her head, bringing her lush mouth within inches of his. Too close for him not to do something about it.Before he could kiss her, she said, ‘Troubled? Whatever would give you that idea?’‘You’re frowning.’She forced her brow to smooth. ‘If I were in trouble, Jackson, what would you do to help me?’With the need to touch her spreading to every part of his body, he tightened his hold on the chair before he did something that would embarrass them both. He’d known better than to get to close to her. How often had her rich, addictive scent reduced him to a state where nothing mattered except loving her with
Being Yours BOOK 7
Rachel gathered her cards and stored them in their box. Securing them in her purse, she vaguely registered the clink and rattle of dishes and the hurried steps of servants carting away trays of uneaten food. The hushed conversation among the musicians as they packed their equipment replaced the earlier sounds of music and laughter. It was nearly one in the morning, and she felt the effects of every minute she’d spent smiling, reading cards, and assuring people who had everything that they would have more.She couldn’t precisely recall what she’d told her clients. She hadn’t been able to focus after her sister’s sudden reappearance. Jackson’s comment about its being bad timing was like calling a hurricane a passing shower. If her sister had the bad judgement to leave without word, why had she chosen tonight to return? Rachel didn’t want to believe Penny had anything to do with the thefts, but her return seemed too perfect to be a coincidence.She’d also hinted that she’d done something
Being Yours BOOK 7
Jackson shoved the door to the control room open and crossed directly to Richie Collins, one of seven night technicians who manned a select group of accounts. Jackson had phoned from his car, instructing Richie on what he wanted done before he reached the office. If the younger man had thought it odd that the boss was coming in at four in the morning, he hadn’t let on.Rounding the half-circle desk that contained a fleet of monitors, Jackson said, ‘Tell me what you found. And it better be good.’‘We picked up something, but I don’t know how much it’ll help.’ Richie tapped on his keyboard,bringing up one window after another. Then, one monitor blanked to gray snow. The screen rolled and displayed a hazy black and white image of Rachel’s living room.‘What’s wrong with the picture?’ Jackson ran a hand through his hair, then leaned over the technician to use the keyboard to try and sharpen the picture. Nothing worked. ‘Shit.’‘My guess is that the RF signal from the camera needs adjusti
Being Yours BOOK 7
Rachel came to an abrupt halt by the door reserved for prisoners and stared in horror at the crowded courtroom. Behind the table where her attorney sat, leaning back in his chair with a bored expression on his plain face, her mother, Penny and Mark sat together, hands linked in the first row of wooden benches.Excited murmurs rose, then were cut off as if a dozen invisible hands had simultaneously clamped over everyone’s mouths. She felt a dozen pairs of eyes turn to her. People she recognized. Mrs Gibbons, the Donaldsons, Senator Hastings, all watched her with silent condemnation. They were clients who’d shopped in her store, women whose cards she’d read, civic leaders whom she’d helped raise money for charity. Everyone present had been a victim in the crimes. Was that why they’d jammed into the courtroom? To ensure justice was served?Linda sat beside the senator, her hands clenched in her lap, a frown pulling at her full mouth. Biting down on her lip, she looked about the room and
Being Yours BOOK 7
Rachel lurched to her feet, looking to where Linda was seated with the senator. Her chair was empty. Detective Hutchins noticed her absence at the same time as Rachel. He pulled a cellphone from his coat pocket and dialed a number, issuing orders to whomever he’d called.He hurried to Senator Hastings side and urged him up from his seat. ‘Sir, I’ll need you to come with me.’‘What’s going on here?’ Jerking free, the senator brushed a hand down his suit.The detective withdrew another photo from the envelope and handed it to the senator. ‘Your fiancee was the one who stole the statue and planted it in Miss Gold’s house. Now, if you’ll come with me.’ As they reached the door, Rachel could hear the detective ask, ‘Do you know where she might have gone?’Looking confused, his face flushing with distress, the senator stammered, ‘She . . . she said she was going to the ladies’ room.’‘It doesn’t matter. We’ll find her.’Judge Reiman cracked his gavel against the desk. ‘I suppose the evidenc
Being Yours BOOK 8
For one gut-wrenching moment Matt thought that the woman walking toward him was Adriana. Same dark curls and olive skin, same compact figure, same ridiculously high heels tapping across the airport concourse. He closed his eyes. When he opened them again, she was standing beside him while she anxiously scanned the crowd gathered around the arrivals gate.He scowled. He really must get a grip. Close up she was nothing like Adriana. The curls were softer and shot with chestnut streaks, and her skin was honey-colored with a tiny smattering of freckles across her nose. What was the matter with him that he thought every small, dark-haired woman was his wife? Why, this one wasn’t even dressed like Adriana. Instead of high gloss and sparkle, she was wearing varying shades of beige. The slouchy trousers and T-shirt, as well as the thin sweater tied around her shoulders, were obviously aimed at travel comfort rather than elegance. Only the shoes, copper- colored sandals with a four-inch heel,
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