She looked into his handsome face, commanded her heart to slow. “Whatever did or didn’t happen, I’m the one to blame. I just . . . this whole thing is so unreal. It’s like it can’t really be happening, but it is. I needed someone and I . . . I got carried away. I’m sorry.”
One of his big hands unconsciously fisted, as if he were fighting the same battle she was not to move. “It wasn’t your fault. I let things get out of hand. I’m here to protect you, not take you to bed. It won’t happen again.”
But he would be staying in the suite with her. And the truth was, Val wanted it to happen again. Wanted to take up exactly where they had left off—with Ethan kissing her as if he would die if he didn’t. With him carrying her off to bed.
She was fiercely attracted to him. Add to that, she hadn’t slept with a man in years.
She wanted him. There was no denying the fact. But her instincts warned her to be wary. Ethan was an amazingly attractive man. Whenever he walked backstage, the eyes of every woman in the show cut in his direction.
We’re all just conquests to Ethan.
The words rang in her head. Was that all she was to him? A conquest? She thought of the control that until this morning he had always maintained. Ethan had never pressed her for sex or any sort of relationship beyond that of client and protector.
She had been the one who’d lost control.
“You need to eat something,” Ethan said mildly, as if that burning kiss had never happened. “I’ll phone room service unless you want to go downstairs.”
Room service.Staying in the suite would mean spending more time alone with him. More time for her mind to remember the feel of his mouth moving hotly over hers, the way he had taken possession, the hard muscles bunching beneath his T-shirt.
More time for temptation.
“I’ll get dressed and go downstairs. I’ll call Meg. She must have heard the news by now. I’ll see if she wants to meet me.”
Ethan nodded. She could feel his reserve, firmly back in place. He was once more in control. He intended to stay that way.
If she wanted more from Ethan Brodie, it would be up to her.
Val told herself it had only been a moment of weakness.
But she had never been much good at lying to herself.
Chapter Seventeen
Ethan drove his rented Buick out to the theater, following the limo bus. He would need transportation later, when he met Heath Ford at the crime scene.
All morning he worked with his team, going over possible problems inside the theater, security precautions they would need to take for the show on Friday night. He didn’t get the call from Heath until two in the afternoon.
“CSIs are finished,” Heath said. “I’ll meet you out there.”
With Dirk and a busload of security people at the rehearsal hall to cover the women, Ethan drove his rental car out the North Stemmons Freeway toward the Tiger’s Eye Lounge, a fifteen-minute trip out of Dallas. The address Heath had given him for Mandy Gee’s house was only five minutes from where she worked.
The July afternoon heat was stifling, at least a hundred degrees. There’d been a time when he’d been used to the scorching weather, but not anymore. Ethan slid his wraparound sunglasses over his eyes, turned the air-conditioning up full blast, and tried not to think of the deep green forests of Seattle.
It didn’t take long to reach his destination. Parking the Buick behind Heath’s unmarked white sedan, he headed up the walk. Mandy Gee’s small, gray-stucco, single-story, hip-roof house needed a paint job. The lawn was mostly dirt. What little grass grew in the yard badly needed mowing.
As he got closer, Heath walked out of the house and stood waiting for him on the porch. Yellow crime-scene tape stretched over the front door.
“They’re finished and gone,” Heath said. “Come on in.”
Ethan removed his shades and hooked the earpieces into the top of his T-shirt. Walking in behind Heath, he paused in the living room to look around.
“Lots of blood, so be careful,” Heath said. “The guy was a real crazy.”
The place was a shambles. Broken lamp shades on the dingy brown carpet was soaked with the victim’s blood. The worn sofa was bloodstained. Scarlet drops splattered one of the walls. Mandy and her roommate were lousy housekeepers, but the place was so torn up Ethan barely noticed.
“Body was sprawled on the floor in front of the couch,” Heath said. “Way it looks, he threatened her with a knife, cut her pretty bad a couple of times as she fought him.” He pointed to a blood smear on the edge of the coffee table. “Fell and hit her head. Fall knocked her unconscious. Killer raped her, then strangled her.”
Ethan started shaking his head. “Not our guy,” he said. “Not even close.”
