“Sorry,” she said and unbelievably enough felt a blush burst onto her cheeks. At least, she assumed she was blushing. Her face felt hot and she was mortified. Idiot, she told herself firmly. He’s trying to help you. The least you could do is remain coherent. “Yes, that’s all the emails. Well, except for the one I got this morning.”
“You got another one?” His tone was as sharp as a knife. “Pull it up.”
She hadn’t wanted to show him this one, which was just stupid, since she’d told him everything else. But this email was darker. Scarier. Heck, she didn’t want to read it again herself. But she clicked on the message and when it popped open, her gaze went right to the bold-faced type.
No more stalling. Give me what I want or you lose the kid. I know where you live. I know your secrets. I’m through screwing around with you. Contact me by five p.m. tomorrow.
“Son of a bitch,” Vance muttered through gritted teeth. “Have you answered him?”
“Yes,” she said. “Right after the first threat came in, I tried to make him tell me who he was. Naturally, he wouldn’t. And when I got this note this morning, I sent him an email trying to stall for time. I didn’t hear back from him. But I don’t know what to do. I can’t steal from Waverly’s and if I tell him that, I might lose my son—”
“You won’t lose Jake.”
“I can’t risk it,” Charlie said and even the distraction of having Vance’s face so close to hers wasn’t enough to ease the panic inside her. “I have to do something.”
He nodded, his gaze fixed again on the email. “He knows where you live.”
“Yeah, I saw that.” She rubbed her hands up and down her forearms in an attempt to ease back the chill snaking through her. It didn’t help. It was creepy enough to get emails. To know that he could show up at her apartment was downright terrifying. “It’s scary to think he’s watching me.”
“Yeah, well, he’s done watching you.”
“I don’t know how I can stop him.”
“I do,” Vance said, his voice low and dark. “You and Jake are moving in with me for a while.”
Charlie just stared at him. Impossible, her mind was shouting. Woo-hoo, her body screamed. And somewhere in the middle Charlie tried to make sense of what he’d just said. But nothing came to her.
“I can’t let you do that.” She shook her head firmly, coming down on the side of reason instead of listening to her body’s urging.
“You’re not letting me do anything,” he told her. “Decision’s made.”
“Excuse me?” Her spine went as stiff as a poker and her chin lifted. Locking her gaze on his, she didn’t back down an inch from the steel she saw shining in his eyes. “I don’t take orders from you—” She caught herself and thought about that for a second, then amended, “Well, all right, I do, since you’re my boss, but you can’t order me to do this.”
An impatient sigh shot from his throat. “Charlie, do you want Jake to be safe?”
“Of course I do. What a ridiculous question.”
“Then you’re moving in with me, because this guy—” he stabbed one finger at the computer screen “—knows where you live. That means neither you nor Jake is safe.”
She didn’t want to be Vance Waverly’s good deed for the year. Didn’t want to be so pathetic that she needed a big, strong man to come riding to her rescue, for pity’s sake. Then she silently admitted that she also didn’t want to go home alone and worry about some nameless, faceless threat. She could stay with Katie, but her friend’s apartment was smaller than Charlie’s and she didn’t want to risk endangering Katie, either.
Should she do it? Should she risk moving in with her boss? Even to keep her son safe, was it the smart thing to do? She looked into Vance’s eyes and read the grim determination there. Mistake, she told herself. This was probably a huge mistake. But try as she might, she couldn’t think of a logical reason to say no.
Nine
Vance insisted that they take part of the afternoon off and move her and Jake into his condo. With the baby at Waverly’s day-care facility, Charlie got them both settled at Vance’s place.
Her first look at his home was enough to convince her that this was a bad idea. She could have plopped her entire apartment into just the living room of Vance’s penthouse and still have room left over. One entire length of the condo was a wall of tinted glass overlooking the Hudson River. Pleasure crafts and bright yellow kayaks, looking like fallen crayons, floated on the deep-blue water, and Charlie could only guess that the view of city lights at night would be stupendous.
The great room had been decorated by an expert so that it was starkly beautiful and about as kid-friendly as a set of steak knives. There were black leather chairs and couches gathered into a conversation area and another set of matching pieces in front of a now-empty hearth. Black lacquered tables stood on tile floors dotted with what looked like expensive rugs. Lamps that looked more like modern art than anything else were staggered around the room.
“See,” he said, spreading his arms wide, “plenty of room.”
“For me and an army,” she whispered as she followed Vance down a hallway that led to three bedrooms. She glanced in at the master suite as they passed, and her heart did a quick jolt when she saw his bed, huge and inviting, with a dark blue duvet and a mountain of pillows stacked against a black headboard.
“You really like black, don’t you?” she commented.
He looked down at her and shrugged. “It goes with everything. Or so the decorator told me.”
“Right,” she said, nodding. “Decorator.”
Just one more way that they were different. Even if she could have afforded a professional, Charlie never would have paid someone to furnish her home. The place that would be both haven and refuge. She would want to put her own stamp on this place. For example, she thought, in the great room, she would have had overstuffed furniture, less expensive but softer rugs and tables you could put your feet up on without having a bottle of Windex handy to wipe off the smudges. And she would have brought color into the place—blues, greens, even a sunshiny yellow. Anything to relieve the black and white and gray monochrome feel.
Oh, boy. Stop it, she told herself. This isn’t your home. You ‘re not staying. You ‘re a guest and probably a short-lived one, so just smile and be nice.
Vance opened the door to a guest room and Charlie was actually relieved to see pale blue walls, dark blue chairs drawn up in front of another fireplace and a bed done in pale blue and green. It was so different from the rest of the place, she could hardly believe it. “It’s lovely.”
“You sound surprised.”
“Well, it’s not what I was expecting.” She’d been thinking, of course, more black. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. The bathroom’s through here,” he said, showing her a palatial space with sky-blue tile, white sinks and tubs with what looked like teak wraparounds. The back half of the bathroom was a glassed-in shower space that looked big enough for—all kinds of things, she thought before she ruthlessly shut down that thought.
Like the rest of his home, the bathroom was stylish and elegant and intimidating.
“There’s a connecting room through the bathroom and it should work great for Jake. I can have a crib up here in an hour.”
“You