Susan Mallery: Hot On Her Heels

“When you find out who was responsible, will you tell us?” Skye asked.

“Be careful what you ask for. You may not like the answer.”

She frowned. “Do you already know?”

“I suspect. There’s a difference.”

Skye looked stricken, as if she had thought of something impossible to believe. “Will you tell us?” she asked again softly.

“Yes.”

“Just like that?”

“I’ll tell you,” he said firmly.

She stood. “Then I guess we’ll wait to hear.”

He and Izzy rose.

Izzy looked at him. “About the family thing. I’m not kidding. You’re one of us now. Quit being mean.”

Then, before he could stop her, she wrapped both her arms around him, leaning against him. The embrace was uncomfortable and unfamiliar. He was used to having women in his arms, but this was different.

She released him, then stared into his eyes. Her mouth curved into a slight smile.

“Next time you’re going to hug me back,” she whispered. “You need us, Garth. And we need you.” Then she raised herself on her toes and kissed his cheek. “It’s going to be okay.”

As if she wanted to reassure him. But this was his game and he was winning. Didn’t they get that?

Skye eyed him. “I’m not comfortable with the whole embracing thing just yet.”

“Not a problem.”

“I hope Izzy’s right. I hope you are worth saving. We’re about to find out.” She smiled. “You may not like the process.”

The women left.

He stared after them, wanting to call them back and say he wasn’t worth saving. That they were ridiculous to waste their effort this way. At the same time, he had the strangest feeling that they had just won this round and that the unexpected victory had put him behind.

IT WAS NEARLY NINE that night when Garth rode the elevator from his condo building’s parking garage. He was tired, not surprising after a nearly fifteen-hour day, but his weariness seemed to be deeper than usual. He’d brought home a briefcase full of work he had no intention of looking at and he was oddly reluctant to spend the evening by himself.

If he had to define his mood-something he rarely bothered doing-he would say he was lonely.

It wasn’t as if he usually spent evenings playing poker with the guys, but lately the emptiness seemed more profound. Maybe it was because he’d lost his best friend. Or maybe all he needed was a drink and some TV time in front of a football game.

When the elevator stopped on the main floor, he got out and crossed to pick up his mail. On his way to the bank of locked boxes, he saw someone sitting in one of the overstuffed sofas. A familiar someone, watching him.

Dana Birch stood. “You’re keeping late hours.”

She wasn’t in uniform. Instead she wore jeans, a leather jacket and boots. Nothing stylish or upscale, yet the no-nonsense clothes suited her.

Garth swung his attention to George, the evening doorman for the building. The older man shifted uncomfortably.

“You, ah, have a visitor, Mr. Duncan.”

“So I see.”

Dana moved toward him. “Don’t blame George. His nephew is a new recruit in the Titanville sheriff’s office. I’ve helped him out a couple of times. George owes me.”

“Does he?”

Garth got his mail and tucked it under his arm. He had his briefcase in one hand and a bag of Chinese takeout in the other. “Why are you here?”

“Because you are.”

Not that he minded-Garth wasn’t intimidated by a powerful woman. In fact, he found the challenge appealing. There was something about Dana’s mouth, though. The fullness of the bottom lip, the slight curve at the corners. It spoke of sensuality and promise. Or maybe that was wishful thinking on his part.

“Starting a fan club?” he asked.

“Not exactly. I’ve taken a leave of absence from work so I can follow you. I’ll be on your ass until I figure out who and what you are.”

“You already know who I am.”

“Not really. Izzy thinks you’re brother material. Skye and Lexi aren’t so sure.”

An unexpected twist. “You’re the deciding vote?”

She smiled. “I’m here to test your character. Think of me as a trial by fire.”

He would give the Titan sisters points for creativity. “You don’t scare me, Dana.”

“Give it time.”

He chuckled and held up the bag of takeout. “You hungry? I have enough for two.”

“Lucky me.”

“Is that a yes?”

She paused for a second, before grabbing the bag. “Sure. Why not?”

They walked toward the elevator.

As they passed the main desk, George gave him a thumbs-up. Garth bit back a laugh. Given the fact that Dana was both prickly and determined to see the worst in him, the odds of him getting lucky that night seemed close to zero. But he was a man who enjoyed a good challenge.

THEY RODE THE ELEVATOR in silence. Dana hadn’t realized she was hungry until she inhaled the scent of the takeout and her stomach growled. Just as disconcerting was her awareness of the man standing next to her. Garth hadn’t bothered to look even slightly concerned about her showing up for the second time in two days. Why couldn’t he at least pretend to be nervous?

They exited on the top floor and she followed him to his penthouse. He unlocked the door, then waited for her to go first.

She walked into the dark space. Seconds later Garth flipped on lights.

Yesterday morning she’d been more interested in the man than his home and hadn’t noticed much beyond the open floor plan and killer view. Now she ignored the display of city lights and instead concentrated on the surroundings.

The condo had been built in a loft style, with a huge open room. The living area was in front, a dining area to the right. A half wall separated a restaurant-sized kitchen with sleek cabinets and gleaming granite from the rest of the room. The furniture was large, the colors subdued and masculine, the carpeting plush. The space looked expensive and comfortable, a rare combination.

“You had a good decorator,” she said.

Garth tossed his leather briefcase and mail onto a table by the door and shrugged out of his suit jacket. “Thanks. He did a nice job.”

“Not a woman? Color me surprised.”

“I appreciate talent in either gender.”

“Aren’t you Mr. Open-minded?”

He came up beside her and pointed to the large, wood dining room table. “Shall we?”

She walked to the table and set down the bag. He crossed to a built-in wine cellar tucked in the wet bar between the dining and living rooms.

“Wine?” he asked. “Or are you on duty?”

“Wine is fine.”

He returned with two glasses and a bottle of red. Dana didn’t recognize the label, which wasn’t a huge surprise. She was more of a beer drinker.

“Plates are in the kitchen,” he said, walking to a buffet, opening a drawer and pulling out a corkscrew.

She walked into the big kitchen and hit the lights. There was counter space for twenty, double sinks, double ovens and a warming drawer.

“Your caterer must love working here. All you need are minions.”

“I have minions. It’s their night off.”

She turned away so he couldn’t see her smile, then opened cupboards until she found plates. The flatware was in the drawer below. After grabbing a couple of paper towels for napkins, she returned to the dining room.

He’d put the now-full wineglasses at one end of the table, across from each other. While she set out the plates, he put containers of Chinese food in front of them.

“It’s a historic occasion,” he said as they sat. “Did you want to say a few words?”

“None would be fit for polite society.”

He winked. “I’m not that polite.”