Читать книгу Heiress Recon - Carla Cassidy - Страница 7

They were in his car by seven-thirty that night and headed for the fishing cabin three hours away. Troy was tense, the muscles in his stomach bunched uncomfortably.

Brianna had looked pretty in her tabloid photos, but in person she was a knockout. Her eyes were bluer, her hair blonder and her features more delicate than any mere photograph could capture.

She was slighter than he’d thought, not tall but very slender. The sexy cocktail dress she wore should be considered a lethal weapon, he thought as he turned onto the highway that would take them south.

“Are we going to the Ozarks?” she asked with a touch of eagerness. “Maybe the Four Seasons? I love that place.”

Of course she would love the luxury resort with all its amenities. “No, we’re not going that far. We’re headed to a place owned by a friend of mine.” She smelled delicious and he fought the impulse to roll down his window in an effort to banish the appealing scent.

“I was afraid I was going to have to fight my way through a bunch of paparazzi to get to your dad’s front door this evening,” he said. “Kansas City must be pretty boring for somebody as accustomed to the limelight as you.” He heard the slight mocking tone in his own voice and knew it was an effort to distance himself from her.

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll manage to dredge up some dreadful publicity while I’m here,” she said with cheerful airiness.

“You won’t be dredging up any publicity for at least the next four days,” he replied.

“I have to be back in town by Saturday,” she said.

“Hot date?”

She crossed her legs. “Something like that,” she replied vaguely.

God, she had great legs, and he hated the fact that he’d noticed. He didn’t want to be attracted to her, didn’t want to find anything appealing about her in any way.

He knew her type. Spoiled and selfish, accustomed to people eager to please her, she was like dozens of other women Troy had known in his life, women he’d chosen to avoid as an adult.

Again he was struck by the scent of her perfume and he wished they were traveling in the airiness of a limo instead of the tight confines of his sports car.

She hid a yawn with the back of her hand.

“The Hollywood fast lane must be catching up to you,” Troy said, then felt the weight of her stare.

“You know, that’s the second or third thing you’ve said to me with a bit of a nasty undertone to your voice. I’m just trying to figure out if you work at being a jerk or it just comes naturally?”

By calling him out she surprised him. He shrugged. “It’s not anything I consciously work on,” he replied.

“That answers my question.” She flipped the air conditioner vent to blow more directly toward her face. “So tell me, is this something you do all the time? Play bodyguard?”

“No. I own a company, Recovery Inc. My two partners and I are in the repossession business.” He didn’t bother to tell her that they were high-stakes players who dealt only in high-stake issues.

“So, you repossessed me.”

“Temporarily,” he agreed.

“If you don’t normally do this kind of work, then why did you agree to do it for my father?”

“Because he’s a friend of my parents and because he used to be a Navy man.” Troy checked his rearview mirror. At this time of night there were few cars on the road, but he wanted to make sure they hadn’t been followed from the Waverly estate by the over-eager press or somebody with more nefarious ideas.

“And you were a Navy man?” she asked.

“Navy SEAL.”

“Ah, that explains it.”

He glanced at her, her features visible in the light from the dash. “Explains what?”

She flashed him a cheeky grin. “Your buff body.”

Troy couldn’t remember the last time he’d blushed, but her words filled his cheeks with unexpected heat. He had a feeling that these three hours in the car with her were going to feel like ten, and he didn’t even want to think about the next four days.

“Is there a Mrs. Repo Man sitting at home waiting for you?” she asked.

“No,” he replied, although he knew the kind of woman he eventually wanted in his life. She would be beautiful, but shy. She’d know the value of a dollar, but would have a giving soul. She’d be an ordinary woman, but extraordinary to him. It was an ideal that he had yet to find, but she was out there somewhere.

Thankfully, Brianna fell silent and stared out the passenger window. Unfortunately, she was only silent for a few minutes. “Do you believe my father’s theory that the person who tried to stab me is somehow connected to his business deal in Kansas City?”

“Who knows,” he replied. “I suppose anything is possible. Of course, it might have nothing to do with your father and instead might be a by-product of your lifestyle. Women like you sometimes get the attention of creeps.”

Once again he felt the weight of her glare. “Women like me?” She repeated the words in a slow and measured tone. “You don’t know me.”

“I know everything I need to know about you,” he replied.

A woman like Bree Waverly had been the cause of him joining the Navy when he was twenty-three years old. He had expected to marry her, but when a false rumor began swirling that his family had lost their fortune in a stock deal, she’d broken off the engagement. So instead of walking down the aisle, he’d walked into the nearest Navy recruitment office in an effort to forget Holly, the beautiful blonde who had broken his heart.

“Really? And what do you think you know about me?” Brianna asked.

Troy sighed. He wished he’d kept his mouth shut, but that had never been one of his strong suits. He was a straight shooter who rarely hesitated to speak his mind. “I know that you’re probably spoiled and love attention. I know that everything in your life has come easily to you. You probably drink too much and take drugs and don’t realize you’re a train wreck about to happen.”

She surprised him with a laugh. “Amazing,” she exclaimed.

“What?”

“It’s amazing that my father decided to have me repossessed by a judgmental, self-righteous jerk.” She laughed again. “This is going to be interesting, repo man. It’s definitely going to be interesting to see if we can spend four days together without one of us killing the other.”

With this pronouncement she lowered the back of her seat, turned her head to the side and closed her eyes.

SHE MUST HAVE fallen asleep because when Brianna opened her eyes again, the car had come to a stop. She put her seat up and looked around, but the night’s darkness prevented her from seeing exactly where they were. The headlights of the car were pointed toward a heavily wooded area but no other structure was visible.

“We’re here,” Troy said. “Why don’t you sit tight and I’ll go turn on some outside lights?” He opened the car door and got out.

She nodded as the last sleepiness fell away. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting when he’d told her they were going to a friend’s place, but this definitely wasn’t it.

As lights suddenly appeared, she stared with dismay at the little cabin tucked into the woods. Okay, maybe he was right. Maybe she was just a little bit spoiled because she found the idea of spending four days in this boarded-up, dilapidated place appalling.

Troy returned to the car and motioned her out as he opened the trunk. “Is there running water?” she asked, unable to keep her repugnance from her voice.

“Sure,” he replied cheerfully. “Although the water pressure leaves something to be desired.” He pulled her suitcase from the trunk and placed his smaller black duffle beside it. “I unlocked the front door.” He picked up his duffle and headed toward the porch, a jaunty energy in his step. He paused at the doorway and turned back to her. “Are you coming?”

She looked from him to the heavy suitcase she’d brought. “I’m coming,” she muttered and grabbed the suitcase handle.

He was enjoying himself, she thought as she dragged the case across the ground toward the porch. He’d judged and condemned her as a carefree, spoiled party girl who lived a life of luxury, and he liked the idea of bringing her to this place where she’d have to carry her own suitcase through the front door.

Buck up, she told herself. If this put her father’s mind at ease, then she could deal with anything for four days, even this crappy cabin and Troy Sinclair.

She huffed with the effort to pull the suitcase up the porch and inside the front door. He could have at least helped her through the door, she thought irritably.

The cabin wasn’t quite as bad on the inside as she’d expected. She entered a room that served as both kitchen and living room. The furniture was mismatched, as if it had been collected at a thrift store, and the kitchen appliances looked older than her. There were two other doors, one she presumed led to the bedroom and the other to the bathroom.

She dragged her suitcase toward the door she guessed was the bedroom. “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in the morning,” she said. “Oh, and by the way, I like my breakfast around tenish.”

It was a great exit line meant to get under his skin. Unfortunately, she had pulled her suitcase into the bathroom. With as much dignity as she could muster, she left the bathroom and yanked the suitcase into the bedroom. She ignored his grin of amusement.

Although she expected sleep to be a long time coming in an unfamiliar bed and with the events of the day to mull over, sleep came as soon as she laid her head on the pillow.

SHE AWAKENED SLOWLY, first recognizing someplace in the back of her sleep-addled mind that the bed beneath her wasn’t her own. The second thing that came to her attention was the sound of melodic birdsong.

She cracked open an eyelid and stared at the rough-hewn wooden wall in front of her. There was a window directly ahead, but only slender slivers of sunshine danced around the boards that covered almost all of the glass.

The cabin. That’s right. She was in the middle of the woods in a cabin that belonged to Troy Sinclair’s friend. She was stuck here for the next four days with a man who apparently believed she was nothing more than what the tabloid headlines claimed her to be.

Slinging her legs over the side of the bed, she grabbed her robe and pulled it around her. Coffee. She could smell the fragrant scent in the air.

Quickly combing her hair with her fingers, she pronounced herself ready to tackle a big cup of java. She opened the bedroom door and instantly spied Troy sitting with his back to her at a small wooden table. At some point while she’d slept he’d removed the boards on the windows, and morning sunshine poured through the streaked glass.

“Ah, the heiress awakens. Coffee is on the counter. Unfortunately, the maid has the day off so you’ll have to help yourself.” These last words were said with a touch of mocking sarcasm.

“I suppose I can manage to make myself a cup of coffee, but anything more complicated than that is way beyond my capacity,” she replied as she walked across the room to the coffeemaker on the countertop.

She poured herself a cup of the brew, then sat at the table across from Troy. He looked as good this morning in a short-sleeved white shirt and jeans as he had the night before in his expensive suit.

“You brought me here on purpose, didn’t you? We could have gone to any resort in the country, hidden away in an expensive hotel, but you chose this place just to be difficult.”

For the first time, he smiled and the gesture warmed those gorgeous eyes of his. “I thought roughing it would be good for you, build your character. You know, no masseuse, no maid service, no cook.”

She took a sip of the coffee. “Ah, we’re back to the same thing. You don’t know anything about me, and you certainly don’t know anything about my character. I’m beginning to find you a bore, repo man.”

“I know everything I need to know about you, Bree.” He emphasized the name the press had given her.

She took another sip of coffee and eyed him over the rim of her cup. She found his instantaneous, obvious dislike of who he thought she was to be both intriguing and irritating.

She drained her coffee mug and stood, deciding that a shower and getting dressed for the day might make her feel better prepared to take on the next four days.

“I’m going to shower.” She walked halfway across the room, then turned back and smiled at him. “I like my eggs scrambled,” she said, then disappeared into the bathroom.

If he expected her to be a spoiled brat, then she could act like one. Minutes later she stood beneath a tepid spray of water, her mind flying over the events of the last couple of days.

She knew why it was so easy to exchange verbal insults with Troy; it kept her mind off the fact that her life had become horribly surreal since Curt had been stabbed. There was no question that the knife had been meant for her, that if Curt hadn’t acted quickly and taken the knife himself, she would have been wounded or worse.

She’d spent the night of the attack in the hospital with Curt, waiting while he had surgery to stitch up arm muscles that had been damaged by the cut.

It had almost been a relief for her father to tell her that she’d been threatened because of a business deal he was working on. Before he’d told her his suspicion, she’d been unable to imagine why anyone would want to harm her.

Hopefully, the meeting her father mentioned he had on Wednesday night would resolve this issue and she could get back to her life, a life that would no longer involve L.A. or the paparazzi.

Her life in California was always meant to be temporary. Her one true love was the Precious Pets Animal Haven she owned in Kansas City. She’d hoped to have a chance to tell her dad that she was moving back and taking over the day-to-day running of the business she loved.

She’d already told Mike Kidwell, her manager at the Haven, that she hoped to be working side by side with him in the next couple of weeks.

She shut off the shower and grabbed one of the thin towels to dry off. Hopefully, she’d be able to tell her dad the good news on Thursday. She knew he’d be thrilled with her decision.

In fact, she’d sold her dad part of the land where Precious Pets was located for his new mall. She hadn’t considered that her farmer neighbors would be up in arms over the plan for a retail area.

She dressed in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt that read BREE across the breasts, then brushed out her wet hair and left the bathroom.

Troy stood at the stove taking up crispy bacon. “If you do breakfast really well, I’ll see about letting you make me lunch and dinner, as well,” she said as she returned to her seat at the table.

He turned to look at her with narrowed eyes. “Don’t push your luck, Bree. I’ll do breakfast duty and you can do lunch. We can share dinner.”

She watched silently as he cracked eggs into a bowl and then scrambled them with a bit of milk. “The last time I saw you, you weren’t such a judgmental jerk. What happened since then to change you?” she asked.

“I didn’t change and I’m not particularly judgmental.” The toast popped up and he grabbed the pieces to butter. “You and I both come from the same background of privilege. Some of us take our wealth and the opportunities it provides us to build something positive with it. Others lead lives of excess and go nowhere.”

“And because you’ve seen a couple of pictures of me in the tabloids, you think you know all about me?”

He scooped up the eggs, prepared them each a plate, then set hers in front of her and joined her at the table.

“You aren’t as smart as you look, repo man.” She picked up a piece of the toast and took a bite, chewing thoughtfully as her gaze remained focused on him. “If you think those photographs that capture just a second of my life are the total sum of me, then you have a bigger problem than you realize.”

He released a small sigh. “Look, I think we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot. I don’t want to spend the next four days trading insults with you. I suggest a truce.” He held out his hand to her.

He had a nice hand, one that looked strong and capable. She grabbed it and was surprised by a rivulet of warmth that traveled up her arm. “Truce,” she agreed and quickly pulled her hand away.

For the next few minutes they ate in silence. She gazed out the window where the view was of tranquil isolation. Tall trees were grouped closely together with bushes and tall grass at their bases. In the distance the sun sparkled on a large body of water visible between the trunks of the trees.

Actually, four days here didn’t seem like such a horrible idea, but she didn’t want him to know that’s what she thought.

“So, what are we going to do to pass this time in this place?” she asked. “I don’t suppose you do manicures.”

“Give me a pair of clippers, and I’ll do the best I can,” he replied.

She winced at the very idea. “I think the only way we’ll get along is if you pretend to be my cabana boy and fix me cocktails and hors d’oeuvres.”

He grinned at her and said, “I’ll consider it after you put on an apron and pretend you’re my maid.” He eyed her curiously. “You know how to fish?”

“Actually I do. When I was little and it was just me and my dad, he’d take me to Smithville Lake and we’d sit on the dam and fish on Sunday afternoons. But I haven’t done it in years.”

“It’s like riding a bicycle, once you’ve mastered it you don’t ever forget how.”

Once again she glanced out the window. The idea of sitting on a bank with a line in the water was surprisingly appealing. She hadn’t realized how scared she’d been since the attack in the club until now, when she felt completely safe and protected by the man who sat across from her.

“How about you wash the dishes and I’ll dry?” she asked when they finished eating.

He looked at her in surprise. “That will work,” he replied.

Together they stood and carried their dishes to the sink. He’d just started running water when a cell phone rang. He quickly shut off the faucet and pulled the phone from his shirt pocket.

“Sinclair,” he said.

Brianna knew instantly that whoever was on the other end of the line was delivering bad news. Every muscle in Troy’s body stiffened and she could almost smell the burn of energy that wafted off him.

“Okay. All right. Just sit tight. I’ll be back in touch.” He hung up and stared at Brianna, and something in his look made her heart begin to beat an unsteady rhythm.

“What? Who was on the phone?” “That was your stepmother. Your father has been kidnapped.”