Lori Foster - Close Contact

“Then how do you know—”

“No one comes out to the farmhouse,” she snapped. “But I already told you, if someone did, I do not remember it.” Temper brought her forward in her seat. “I can’t remember anything. Especially not how I ended up sleeping on the ground in the middle of the night!”

Okay, so he had to admit, all in all that sounded like more than alcohol. Hell, had someone actually drugged her? If so, how and when? Most likely on a date.

Or had she trolled another bar?

Narrowing his eyes, Miles said, “I know you haven’t been to Rowdy’s lately.” Where they’d met. It was a nice place, small and with enough regulars that spiking a drink wouldn’t go unnoticed. That brought up another idea. “Switched to a less reputable bar?”

Still breathing hard from her rant, she settled back, and after visibly collecting herself, she shook her head. “No.”

That clipped voice didn’t deter him from his questions. “Any boyfriends been around?”

She gave another sharp shake of her head. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“No one?”

Glaring, she repeated, “No one.”

“Did you piss off your newest bed partner, then?”

“Miles,” Sahara chided mildly.

“It’s a legitimate question.”

Maxi scowled at him. “No bed partner.”

“You’re telling me that in the two months since I’ve seen you—”

“There’s been no one.” Belligerent now, she muttered, “Not since you, and you were a long shot. Sort of a last hurrah.”

She kept saying the craziest things. “I have no idea what that’s supposed to mean.”

Sahara interrupted with “Look at yourself, Miles. With all her new obligations, she obviously didn’t mean to get involved, but then, I’m sure she didn’t expect to meet you.”

“Exactly,” Maxi stated, as if vindicated.

His temples started to throb. “Exactly what?”

Helpfully, Sahara explained, “Oh, sweetie, you were supposed to be a one-night stand. Not a repeat performance.”

Maxi nodded. “But what woman could resist coming back?”

Raising her hand, Sahara said, “I could, but then, I’m used to being surrounded by—” she flapped her hand at Miles as she searched for the words “—by temptation. Body Armor is the place to go for sexier protection, you know.” Then sotto voce, she added to Maxi, “I’m trying to cement that brand for the agency. So far, I’m meeting resistance.”

Sahara’s typical blunt approach might have insulted someone else; after all, she now knew something very personal and private about him. He couldn’t blame Maxi for sharing, not when Sahara had a way of getting the details out of people. Plus, Maxi was obviously out of sorts, therefore easily susceptible to Sahara’s not-so-subtle digging. At the moment, though, offense was the last thing he felt. Everyone at the agency was used to Sahara’s informal and often intrusive manner. It went hand in hand with a lot of caring, making her a most unusual but likable boss.

After rolling his eyes at Sahara, Miles turned to Maxi. He wanted to believe everything she said, he really did. He’d even admit that she looked sincere.

Problem was, he knew her sex drive matched his own, and he sure as hell hadn’t been celibate.

Maybe this time she’d hooked up with the wrong man. Had she played around and then tried to call it quits, but unlike Miles, the new guy knew where to find her and, in a sick way, had insisted?

He hated that thought. His natural instinct was to protect women, never to abuse them. His reaction to Maxi had honed that instinct to a razor’s edge.

Still, facts were facts. Why would a total stranger drug her only to leave her outside? That didn’t make any sense.

But a pissed-off lover? That at least explained a motive, if the guy had only wanted to fuck with her.

Miles gently lifted her chin. Caution filled her big dark eyes, but she didn’t pull away. Checking for any other signs of injury, he tipped her face first one way, then the other. He didn’t see any bruises, but that didn’t mean much. He hated to ask, but he had to know. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

Her tongue touched over her dry lips. “I don’t think so.”

Did she understand what he was asking? “I mean—”

“I know what you mean.” She spared a brief glance for Sahara, then lowered her voice. “I don’t think anyone...touched me. Not that way.”

Matching his voice to hers, he whispered, “You checked?”

She nodded. “As best I could. I mean, I was still wearing my shorts. And my...my panties weren’t twisted or anything.” She bit her bottom lip. “If anything like that did happen, I’d know, right?”

“I assume so.” Miles wanted to check for himself, but he could just imagine how that’d go over.

Sahara probably wouldn’t give him the privacy for it anyway.

So if she had been drugged—then what? She’d have to open up first instead of denying any involvement, but if he could find the guy, he’d annihilate him, no problem.

Because he didn’t want this to get personal, he told himself he’d feel the same for any woman. “You’re sure you don’t remember anything else? No other clues? No one I should check out?”

Nodding at Sahara, Maxi said, “Nothing that she hasn’t already told you.” Shivering again, she sipped the hot coffee.

It wasn’t cold in the office. In fact, beneath his hands her thighs felt warm. Reaction, then. To the upset of thinking she’d been roofied, or because she had been roofied?

The urge to gather her close strained him. Only the hard reminder that she’d left his life as quickly as she’d entered it kept him somewhat impersonal. “We’ll find out what happened.”

Relief washed over her, making her go limp. She looked down, gulped a few quivering breaths and nodded. “Thank you.”

The tears in her voice nearly undid him.

It must have affected Sahara, too, because even though she’d refused to give them privacy moments before, she now said softly, “I’ll be right back,” and then she slipped from the room, closing the door behind her.

Silence stretched out.

As Miles watched, Maxi banked the desperation and forced herself to calm. It surprised him when she said, “You’ve gotten bigger.”

He lifted a brow. Now that they had a moment alone, that was all she had to say to him? Or was she just hoping for a distraction? “I’m not fighting anymore. Now I eat what I want.”

“But you’re not heavy.” Her warm gaze moved over his shoulders. “You’re still as chiseled as ever. Just...bigger. Bulkier.”

He shrugged. “True.” He’d had plenty of time to exercise and lift weights, especially since the Body Armor agency kept a state-of-the-art gym with every type of equipment a fitness buff could want. After all, bodyguards had to stay in shape. Plus, beating a heavy bag helped rid him of his anger.

Or so he’d told himself.

At the moment, the anger seemed dangerously close to the surface. “A lot can change in two months.”

Guilt brought color to her face, so she didn’t appear as pale. She turned away before saying, “I should apologize—”

“You made it clear there was no commitment.” That was usually how he liked it. Just not this time.

“I know, but... It’s just that I had so much to deal with and...” She blew out a breath. “I was tempted to lean on you.”

He waited, but when she said nothing else, he frowned. “That would have been so bad?”

She choked. “You can’t tell me you’d have wanted that.”

“I don’t think you have a clue what I wanted.” Mostly because she’d never bothered to ask.

“Look at yourself,” she said, almost in accusation.

Sahara had said the same, and he still didn’t know what it meant.