Janet Evanovich - Full Bloom

"I want to make love to you," he said.

Instant adrenaline rush, followed by flash of heat low in her belly, followed by shaky noodle legs. Not a good sign.

Wes turned her around, looked into her eyes. "What d'you think?"

"Um." Annie gave herself a mental shake to clear her head. "We should probably think about it carefully. We don't want to rush into anything."

"We don't?"

"Definitely not. I have it on good authority that men and women who fall into bed out of simple lust only end up feeling empty or disappointed because despite meeting their sexual needs, lust does not address emotional needs. They often experience guilt, resentment, and low self-esteem. Even worse, they are at higher risk for sexually transmitted diseases. If you watched Oprah or read 'Dear Abby' you'd know that."

Wes just looked at her. "You're serious?"

"Absolutely. They offer sound advice on just about every subject, ranging from office affairs, ending relationships gracefully, to tips for getting along better with your mother-in-law and the drawbacks of body piercing, to name just a few." Annie paused to draw in breath.

Wes looked confused. Finally, he released her. "So do you want me to go into the attic first?"

"Yes, please. And check for bats."

He opened the attic door, found the light switch, and flipped it on. He stepped inside. Annie waited just outside.

"Wow, there's a lot of stuff in here," Wes said.

"Do you see anything flying around?"

"Nope. Don't worry; I won't let anything get you."

Annie peered inside the open doorway. When she didn't see any ugly black objects darting about, she stepped inside but remained close to her point of exit. "I sorted through a ton of boxes after my grandmother died, and I donated a lot of items to the women's shelter. But that was before the bat flew at my hair. I almost killed myself trying to get out of here."

Wes lifted several sheets and peeked beneath them. "You've got a lot of cool antiques."

"My grandmother refused to part with anything that was handed down through the family. No telling how long they've been up here."

Wes motioned toward several tall file cabinets along one wall. "Is that where you keep your income tax records?"

Annie nodded. "Third cabinet, top drawer," she said. "They're filed by year and marked as backup copies." She remained where she was as Wes crossed the room, opened the file drawer, and pulled out what he needed.

"I'm assuming you and Charles filed jointly?" he said.

"Yeah." She told him what years to look for.

Annie was relieved to leave the attic behind. Returning to the kitchen, Wes set the files on the kitchen table and began flipping through one of them.

"What are you looking for?" Annie asked.

"Charles's Social Security number, credit card receipts, cell phone bills, and anything else that might be helpful."

"He charged all his business expenses on American Express."

Wes found an envelope marked: Business Receipts. He opened it, thumbed through them, and pulled one out. "Where is the Hilltop Steakhouse?" he asked.

"It's in Mosely, about twenty-five miles from here, on the way to Charleston."

"The two of you went often?"

"I've never been."

"Obviously he took somebody, because there are eight or ten receipts and the bills are pretty steep."

"Those were probably the nights I stayed home and ate tuna fish sandwiches."

Wes glanced up at her. "He traveled?"

Annie nodded. "His boss, Norm Schaefer, owns several real estate franchises in and out of state, so they often took turns attending monthly sales meetings, and Charles enjoyed going to various seminars, mostly geared toward sales or real estate. And there were golf tournaments and fishing trips with customers. Mostly out of town, of course," she added flatly.

Wes checked his watch and closed the folder. "There's a lot to go through here," he said, "and it's getting late. Why don't we call it a night and I'll look through the files first thing in the morning? In the meantime, I'll keep this in my room, away from the others."

Annie knew Wes would probably spend most of the night studying the files, but he was trying to spare her feelings. "Just so you know, I've gotten over Charles's indiscretions. You don't have to keep secrets from me."

"Good." He smiled. "Tell you what, Red. I'm going to need the latest picture you have of him."

" 'Red'?"

"It seems fitting."

Annie hurried into the formal living room and opened a cabinet along one wall. She pulled out a photo album and flipped through the pages, quickly bypassing her wedding pictures. She found a couple of photos of Charles taken only a few months before his disappearance. She felt a dull sensation in her stomach as she studied them. Finally, she carried them into the kitchen and handed them to Wes.

He gave them a cursory glance. "Not a bad-looking fellow."

Annie shrugged. "I guess I wasn't the only woman in town who thought so." But she didn't want to think about Charles. Her big toe was hurting, and she needed to get off her foot. "I suppose I should get to bed."

"I'll follow you up."

Wes carried the files upstairs. He reached his room before she did hers. "You might want to have a doctor look at that toe if it doesn't feel better in the morning," he said once she'd arrived at her bedroom door and opened it. She frowned, wondering how he knew the toe was giving her problems when she'd been so careful to hide it.

But she had a feeling Wes Bridges knew or suspected more about her than he was letting on, and that worried her.

* * * * *

It was not yet 6:00 a.m. when Annie finished frying bacon and stirring blueberries into a large bowl of batter for waffles that she planned to serve for breakfast once her guests began waking. This was her favorite part of the day, the house so quiet she could hear the leaves on the live oaks rustling in the breeze just outside the window over her sink. She had added an extra place setting in case Danny arrived early, and she'd filled a carafe with coffee and put on a fresh pot. She poured a second cup, grabbed her notepad, and carried them to the table, where she started her daily list.

Max and Jamie's rehearsal dinner was only a few days away, and the wedding was drawing nearer. So many things to do in the meantime, she thought, even though she, with the help of Theenie and Lovelle, had managed to tackle several major cleaning projects after the Christmas and New Year's guests had gone and all the decorations had come down. The marbled entryway and pillars had been cleaned, as had what seemed miles of solid mahogany baseboards, elaborate trim, wainscoting, and floor-to-ceiling panels in the study. The porcelain tubs and sinks in all six bathrooms sparkled, and Annie had spent a solid week on her knees scrubbing the tiled floors and walls, oftentimes using old toothbrushes to get the grout clean as well.

Perhaps if she concentrated on what remained to be done she wouldn't spend so much time worrying. Not that worrying had ever solved a thing, her grandmother had told her many times after Annie had moved in and found herself tackling the expenditures and upkeep of the mansion. She wished her grandmother had worried more and spent less money so that Annie hadn't been forced to pinch every dime and nickel of her inheritance to renovate the spacious eight-bedroom mansion and prevent it from falling into total disrepair. Not only had the woman lost a bundle in the stock market; she'd also donated money to every imaginable cause.

Annie's mother, Jenna, who'd married money and profited greatly when she'd divorced Annie's father, Gunther Worthington III, had little to do with her own mother and wasn't concerned about expenditures, since the woman had always lived frugally when Jenna was growing up. However, when Jenna discovered, after her mother's death, that the family fortune had dwindled to almost nothing, she had been furious.