A movement in the street caught his eye and he saw a tall, dark-haired man stepping into a waiting car.
Recognizing him, Alec frowned. Why would Richard Everson be leaving alone?
He waited for Skylar to come running after him, wearing that skintight silver dress and a megawatt smile, but the car pulled away with only one passenger.
Ignoring the voice inside him that reminded him it was none of his business, he moved silently across the gallery toward the door he’d seen her enter.
He tapped lightly, received no answer and opened it anyway.
The room was empty.
It was clearly a storeroom. There were paintings against the wall, a table stacked with boxes and—
A body.
Shit.
“Skylar?” In two strides he was by her side. “What the hell happened here? Speak to me. Are you—?”
He tilted her face and his hand came away sticky with her blood.
Her beautiful white-blond hair was streaked with it, her lips bloodless in a face drained of color.
His heart pounded. Whatever he’d expected to find, it hadn’t been this.
“Sky? Open your eyes.” He tried to scoop her up and then dodged as she swung her fist toward his face.
“Touch me and I swear the next thing you feel will be my stiletto in your balls.” She slurred her words and Alec swore under his breath and captured her wrist in his hand before she could do him serious damage.
“You might want to work on that pickup line, princess.”
Her eyes fixed on him and focused. Confusion changed to recognition. “What are you doing here? Did you come to gloat?”
“I saw Richard getting into a car and came to check on you. Good thing I did. I’m taking you to hospital.” Questions rose in his mind. What had happened? And why had Richard Everson walked out leaving her like this? He delved in his pocket for his phone. “I’m calling an ambulance. And the police. Did he do this?”
“No. I fell. And I don’t want you to call anyone.” She struggled to sit up, her efforts giving him a glimpse of long legs and silk underwear.
Her body is the biggest work of art in the place, he thought, and averted his eyes.
It irritated him that he found her attractive.
“You had a nasty blow to the head. You need to stay where you are.”
“People have to stop telling me what I need. I know what I need. Crap.”
He turned back to look at her and saw she’d closed her eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“Do you have a twin? I’m seeing two of you.”
“That’s not good.”
“You’re not kidding. One Alec Hunter is bad enough. Two is my worst nightmare.”
He took it as a good sign that she recognized him. “I’m relieved you’re still able to make a joke.”
“It’s not a joke.”
He gave a grim laugh. “I know I’m not your first choice of rescuer, but unfortunately I’m all there is.”
“Then it’s a good thing I don’t need rescuing.”
He wondered if she had any idea how badly she was hurt. “Let me take a look at your head before you stand up.” Leaning her back against the leg of the table, he gently moved her hair back so that he could take a closer look at her injury. He’d been on expeditions to some of the wildest parts of the world and his first-aid skills were more than competent. “You don’t need stitches, but you have one hell of a bruise and you might have a concussion. I’m taking you to hospital.”
“I’m not going to the hospital. I don’t want anyone to see me like this. They might take a photo.”
He felt a rush of impatience. “Don’t worry, you still look beautiful and I’ll make sure they only get your good side.”
The look she gave him should have fried him to a crisp. “I don’t care how I look, dumbass. I care about what questions the press might ask. And I care even more about seeing their theories expounded in public. But it’s always good to know I’m the fortunate beneficiary of your good opinion. You can leave now. I appreciate you checking on me. I hope you break your nose on the way out.”
He breathed deeply. “It was a stupid comment. I apologize.”
She gave a weak laugh. “Wow. Now I am worried. I’m hallucinating, or hearing voices or something, because for a moment there I thought I heard you apologize. I don’t suppose you’d do it again? This time on your knees?” She gave a weak laugh. “Just kidding. Go, Alec. You’re done here. Off the hook.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Why? You think I’m a vain waste of space. Why would you care what happens to me?” She closed her eyes again. “News flash. When a girl hits a crappy part of her life she needs friends around her, not someone who is going to make her feel more crappy.”
He ignored that. “Do you feel sick?”
“Yeah, but it will pass as soon as you’ve left. Don’t take it personally. You’re just not my type.”
It was a relief that she could still take a swipe at him. “Good to know. Come on, princess, let’s get out of here.”
“Princess? Did you seriously just call me princess again?” She cracked open one eye. “Are you trying to wind me up?”
“Yes. If you’re spitting mad, at least I know you don’t have brain damage.”
“You don’t think I have a brain. How can I have brain damage when I don’t have a brain?” Her muttered retort was so much in character that his concern eased slightly.
“In case you do have a brain, we need to get you checked out. If you don’t want an ambulance, we can take a taxi.”
“Why are you helping me? You hate me. Hence the reason you call me princess.”
“I seem to remember that last time we met you called me an asshole, so you’re not exactly complimentary.”
“Asshat, not asshole.”
“I think the exact phrase you used was ‘Professor Asshat.’” He rose to his feet. “Don’t move. I’m going to get a taxi by the back entrance. I’ll make sure no one sees you.”
He wondered who she was protecting. Richard Everson or herself?
He stepped out into the snowy street. For once luck was on his side and he hailed a taxi almost immediately. Instructing the driver to wait, he walked back through the rear entrance of the gallery and was surprised to find Skylar standing up and clutching the table for support.
He couldn’t believe she was on her feet. “I told you to stay where you were. I’m going to help you.”
“I don’t need you to help me. But my dress is covered in blood. It’s ruined.” She was shivering and Alec removed his coat and covered her up.
“Your dress is the least of your worries.”
“Not true. We princesses are very particular about how we look. We never know when a handsome prince might come riding by.”
Ignoring the dig, he eyed her bruise. “Right now you look more like a heroine from a Hitchcock movie than a princess.” Her hair was the glistening white gold of a Caribbean beach in the sunlight. Even streaked with blood, it was her most striking feature.
“Am I scary?” She gave a faint