Alexa hid her shudder. Between Minos and Vane, she felt under surveillance every moment of every day. She should be watching them. Not to mention all of the inn’s guests, every one of them here, she was certain, for some undivulged but nefarious purpose.
She’d seen similar deceitfulness before.
And when she had, the consequences had been unimaginably dire. Her parents had nearly lost their freedom.
She had irrevocably, horribly, lost Cole.
Minos hadn’t moved. At least he couldn’t stare into her thoughts. She swallowed her sigh. “I’m going to be starting dinner now,” she said with feigned cheerfulness. “If you want to hang around, I’ll put you to work mincing onions.”
“I’ve got things to do,” he said irritably.
She was certain he did—whatever Vane assigned to him. And Alexa was sure none of it would benefit the inn. Or her.
Or the world.
As Minos left, Alexa considered her duties of the moment. She did have to start cooking. She also had to make sure a room was ready for her new guest.
John O’Rourke. He seemed like a nice enough man. A home improvements salesman.
Why had he reminded her of Cole?
Well, she knew just how much good wishful thinking had done her. Zilch.
No knight in shining armor would come to save her from her dilemma. No Cole Rappaport, or even a surrogate, would arrive to make things right.
She would have to do it herself.
She had already tried once to run to the authorities. Mistake! She had learned a valuable lesson about who had more credibility: Vane or her. It wasn’t her.
And Vane had shown her then how he still could ruin her parents’ lives. Her life, too—even more than it already had been ruined.
Her options were limited, but she did have options.
She hoped.
PULLING THE CAR over to a curb, Cole glanced again at the directions Alexa had given him, then back up.
There it was, the Hideaway By The Lake. It was a large Swiss-style chalet with a peaked roof. The rails around the wide second-floor balcony were cut out in a uniform, gingerbread pattern.
Between the house and its neighbor was a tall bougainvillea hedge that lent privacy. Beyond, he glimpsed glistening blue water. A vacant lot next door was crowded with white pine trees.
“Nice,” he grumbled. He’d had no doubt that it would be.
Alexa had had good taste. Or so he had believed, until he had learned of her perfidy. Her betrayal.
And her engagement to Vane Walters.
Cole instinctively studied the rest of the street. Residential. Lined with resort-style houses of varying sizes— A-frames, small stucco haciendas—and all well-maintained. Not too close together, and a lot of secluding landscaping in between.
Plenty of places for someone to hide, though from what he gathered, no one was bothering to stay out of sight.
Just like last time.
Exiting the car, he popped the trunk and pulled out his single carry-on bag. He’d traveled light. He expected to be here for a while, but had no intention of worrying about how he dressed. The weight in his bag came from his laptop computer, some special equipment—and the Beretta 9 mm semiautomatic secreted in a hidden compartment.
The front door was large—carved black walnut. It was locked. Cole rang the bell, and in a moment Alexa answered.
“Mr. O’Rourke,” she said as she opened the door. He started to correct her, but she beat him to it. “John. Come in, please.” She stepped back, continuing to hold the door.
“Thanks.” He was highly conscious of her nearness as he skirted around her, his bag in his hand. The top of her head reached to just above his shoulder, and she looked almost childlike with her hair pulled back that way.
Almost. For there was no mistaking her sensuous curves in that casual outfit.
Then there was the subtle citrus scent that wafted about her. A familiar scent. Even after two years, she hadn’t changed that, at least. It reminded him of seduction. It reminded him of her.
He gritted his teeth. Okay, so he couldn’t be completely detached. She had been a desirable woman. She still was. He had seen it, felt it deep in his gut, earlier that day.
But he was a grown man. He would keep his lust in check. Unless there was some way to use it to further his goals….
Once, he had been determined to succeed, but he hadn’t been so much of an SOB as to cold-bloodedly engage in seduction to gain an advantage. Now, he wasn’t so sure.
“Is there something wrong, John?” Alexa asked.
He watched her anxious gaze take in the room in the direction he’d been staring, as though she feared she had missed cleaning some noxious piece of dirt.
“Not at all.” He pasted his most innocuous salesman’s smile on his face and looked down into her troubled eyes.
Soft blue eyes. They were missing the teasing twinkle he remembered. Or had she lost it over the years, because of what happened? That would be a shame.
“This place looks charming,” he continued hastily, turning away.
He wasn’t lying, this time. The inn was charming. Its entry was a combination lodge-like living room and hotel reception area, with high wood-beamed ceilings and a long, tall cedar desk along one wall. The tangy aroma of burnt wood emerged from a huge stone fireplace at one end of the room, although no fire blazed there now.
As he approached the registration desk, he was greeted by a dog. It was a German shepherd—a young one, still gangly and waiting for his thin body to catch up with the size of his long legs and large paws. But the animal must already have been well trained. He made no watchdog noises. No growls at the intruder that was Cole. No, guest. He was a paying guest here.
A guest with an agenda that his host and hostess would abhor.
Alexa stooped gracefully to hug the squirming puppy. “John,” she said, “meet Phantom.”
Cole froze. Phantom.
That had been Alexa’s nickname for him.
For a moment, his guard lowered like a tinted car window opening to reveal the recent past. How he wanted to bring her to her feet and into his arms. To tell her who he was, why he was here, and damn the consequences.
Except that she had betrayed him once. She might not realize it now, but she was betraying him again.
And he could not allow her to get away with it. The stakes could be too high.
“What an interesting name,” he said, hearing how tight his voice sounded. He cleared his throat, as if an allergy had caused moisture there—and not emotion. Cole Rappaport didn’t let emotion interfere with what he needed to accomplish. Ever.
“I once had a…friend I called Phantom,” Alexa said as she rose. She stared with her assessing blue eyes as if sizing him up once more. Assuring herself he wasn’t that very friend.
Did she know? How could she?
Putting his friendly, salesman look back on his face, Cole said cheerfully, “And what did that friend do that made you give him that nickname?”
“He disappeared,” she said. “A lot.” Her tone was matter-of-fact, betraying none of the bitterness of their past disagreements.
Ostensibly, Cole had been on leave from the army during the months they’d known each other. He hadn’t been able to tell her the truth. Now and