And it has to be him, because didn’t he say he was the only one with the codes? A man who’s not afraid to dirty his hands with housework? Now that’s attractive.
I’d been expecting far worse after seeing the dust on the frames in the tunnel. What starts out as a quick check of the bedroom soon slows.
I’d recognize that bed anywhere. Sheesh, there isn’t a chance I’m sleeping on it, let alone IN it, not with it having seen that much action.
And yep, my brain has to go there. My fear-based adrenaline happily diverting itself to memories of Wyatt when he’d hugged me. And from there onto what it would be like to share the four-poster with him.
As I walk about this monster piece of furniture, I’m torn between admiring the carving and being horrified by the hangings. They’re of yet more dark red velvet, with enough gold tassels to outfit a strip club.
Designed by a man for men would be my guess, and definitely from a bygone era. Didn’t Wyatt say something about the thirties? If he’s right, then it’s a wonder they haven’t disintegrated.
This thought has me back out in the main room, and over to the curtains that cover the sliding doors. Again, they’re in reasonable condition, given their vintage status.
If not for my being right next to the large doors, I’d never have heard the sounds from outside. Much as I want to run and hide, I can’t. I need to see what’s out there.
I put my eye up to the narrow gap in the curtains and am immediately blinded. The courtyard is so much brighter than the dimly lit interior of the villa. Eventually, my eyesight adjusts, and just as well. I’m in time to see a disembodied hand coming over the top of the wall.
I’m getting ready to flee when whoever it is—and it has to be Ralph—encounters the thorns of the bougainvillea. Even with the doors and curtains shut, I’m able to hear wild cussing and a subsequent crash.
I’m safe for now, but neither do I want to stay here on my own. I give thought to racing back along the tunnel, across the carpark and up to reception.
And I would, if not for knowing how quickly Ralph can move when he wants to. Fueled by pain and frustration, I suspect he’d be even faster.
I’d never make it. However, this isn’t the only course open to me. Instead, I grab my phone and press my contacts list. Thank goodness Wyatt had programmed his number in for me. There wasn’t a chance I’d be able to make the call with my hands trembling as they are.
True to his word, Wyatt is with me in under a minute, his rapid breathing telling me he’d run the entire way. He takes one look at me, drops the gym bag he’d been holding, and drags me in for a tight embrace.
I like this about him. Actually, I like a lot of things about him, especially how his muscled chest feels against my boobs. I also feel safe, safer than I have in months, and cared for by a man, as never.
He’s an ocean of calm in my out-of-control life.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to bother you, but…”
“You did exactly the right thing.” He squeezes me even tighter for a second before continuing. “Did you shut the doors and curtains before or after he tried to get over the wall?”
“Before, thank goodness.” Thoughts of what Ralph might have seen if I hadn’t, and I’m back to trembling like a half-set jelly. “I still don’t understand how he found me. You said this place…”
Before I say anything else, he loosens his hold on me and steps back. “Your suitcase?! It has to be your suitcase.” Without explanation, he leaves me standing there, marching through into the bedroom.
After a moment’s hesitation, I follow and am in time to see him heft my suitcase up onto the bed.
“Are you able to open it?”
This question has the cogs in my brain slowly catching up with him. “You think he’s tracking me somehow?”
His nod is emphatic. “It’s the only thing that makes sense. You said that no matter how quiet you were about your movements, he always turns up?”
Busy concentrating on the tumblers of my combination lock, I don’t immediately answer. I wait until after I’ve released the lock, unzipped my bag, and flipped it open.
“I once got a note from him within fifteen minutes of check-in.”
Only now that I’m standing in front of my suitcase do I realize I’ll need to empty it, to rummage through everything. I’m not sure how I feel about riffling through my slinky underwear with a man this hot standing right next to me.
More to the point, how will he feel about me flashing my intimates?
I guess I’m about to find out.
FOUR
