Dangerous Disguise (7 page)

This time, the password appeared to take. And then didn’t.

“Okay, Harry, Plan B just fell through. Now what?” he said under his breath.

Jared stopped, listening. He could have sworn he’d heard something just beyond the low-grade hum of the noncompliant computer.

Footsteps?

Or was his imagination just working overtime? His nerves always rose closer to the surface whenever he graduated to another level of risk.

Joe’s desk, butted up against Maren’s, faced away from the corridor. Jared paused in his battle for the computer, wanting to investigate. As he started to get up from the chair, he felt something hard hit his head from behind. He remembered thinking “Game over” as he lost feeling in his legs.

And then everything turned black.

Jared felt cold.

Very cold.

The wind cut right through him, seeping into his bones.

Standing in only shirtsleeves, he looked down to see that he was making snowballs as fast as he could. Every time one was made, he threw it at his siblings who were taunting him. He kept missing no matter how good an aim he took.

Something had to be wrong, he never missed.

And then, suddenly, his siblings were gone, vanishing as if they’d never been here.

Instead he was throwing snowballs at Maren. They were on the beach, just like the other night. She was hip deep in snow, laughing at him.

In front of his eyes, she began to change shape until he sensed she’d turned into something else. Sensed because he couldn’t see. She was standing completely draped in shadows.

Jared jerked as a snowball came flying toward him. Jerked so hard that he came to.

An eerie blue light was coming from somewhere just overhead.

He immediately became conscious of the cold. That wasn’t just part of his dream, it
was
cold. He was cold. Freezing. Something icy was against his back. It took him a moment to focus. He was in the refrigerator, leaning against a wall. His limbs felt stiff.

Scrambling to his feet, Jared tried to open the door, but it wouldn’t budge. He remembered Maren saying something about the lock. It was faulty, that was it. But faulty or not, the lock wouldn’t have just closed by itself.

Besides, how did he get in here in the first place?

Events came back to him. Jared felt the bump on his head and winced as pain telegraphed itself all through his system. Someone had to have knocked him out and put him in here.

Which meant that someone was on to him. Or had seen him at the computer and gotten either scared or suspicious. Or both.

But who could have done this to him? Everyone was gone.

Someone had to have come back without his hearing them. Why? Was the computer hooked up to some kind of silent alarm in someone’s house or car? If so, whose?

He had no answers and his head was absolutely killing him. Right now, unless whoever had put him here returned, his main problem wasn’t who, it was how to get out.

“Okay, now what, genius?” he muttered, looking around.

It was after midnight. Maren came in around eight or so. And who was to say she or anyone else would open the refrigerator before eleven? He couldn’t stay here that long, he was freezing as it was. For that matter, he wasn’t even sure if there was enough oxygen for him to last until then.

Jared looked around the refrigerator, trying to find something that he could use to pry the door open. If it was faulty, maybe the lock would give. But there were no implements of any kind inside the refrigerator. Only boxes of meat, poultry and fish. He couldn’t exactly batter the lock open with a frozen leg of lamb.

Frustrated, trying to think, he shoved his hands deep into his pocket in an effort to warm them. His fingertips came in contact with his keys…and his cell phone.

He pulled out the phone and stared at it in disbelief. Whoever had dragged him in here had been sloppy, he thought. An amateur? But why would an amateur stick him in the refrigerator? Besides, the operation wasn’t being run by amateurs. Amateurs would have been caught way before he’d been sent in. He was up against professionals.

Was this a warning to back off? Why back off, why not just do away with him and leave him in some ditch?

He had no answers, only a deep-seated gratitude that whoever had placed him in here hadn’t tried to finish the job. Maybe his attacker had panicked. Had he accidentally trod on someone else’s territory? Was something else going on here, as well? Right now he couldn’t group his thoughts together. He could deliberate on all these questions later. After he got out.

Jared felt as if his limbs would start falling off if he didn’t get warm soon. Shaking, he flipped the phone open. The little light on the top told him that his battery was running low. He mentally crossed his fingers that the phone worked and vowed to recharge it every night from now on.

His fingers trembled as he began to hit buttons on the keypad. He depressed 9-1 and then stopped. His first impulse was to call the police, but if he did his cover could be blown. At the very least, if the restaurant was a front for money laundering, Shepherd might have him fired for calling attention to the place.

Okay, he thought, erasing the two numbers with trembling fingers, how was he going to use this to his advantage?

The word advantage instantly brought an image to mind. He started to dial.

It was hopeless.

Maren threw off the covers and sat up. She couldn’t sleep. Every time she tried to close her eyes, she saw Jared. Jared, framed by the moonlight, his mouth lowering to hers.

Just the very thought heated her body.

She had to get a grip. She’d been avoiding the man these past two days, but out of sight was not keeping him out of mind. And that was where she was heading, out of her mind.

For two cents…

No, she couldn’t very well fire him for kissing her. Restless, she threw herself back down on the bed, praying she would fall asleep from exhaustion.

Any hopes she had were shattered when the phone on the nightstand beside her bed rang. No one she knew would call her at this hour.

If this was a wrong number…

Annoyed, she yanked up the receiver and fairly shouted, “Yes?”

“Maren? It’s Jared.”

Her whole body responded, going on alert. What the hell was wrong with him? What made him think he could call her at this hour? It wasn’t bad enough that he had invaded her brain? Now he wanted to invade her life. “What do you want?”

“Could you come down to the restaurant, please?”

She sat up. Was his voice quavering? “Why?” she asked suspiciously.

“I need you to unlock the walk-in refrigerator.”

Of all the odd requests…” Why?” Maren asked again.

“Because I’m locked inside.”

This time, she didn’t waste any more time asking questions. Instead, she hit the floor moving, heading for her clothes. “I’ll be right down.”

Chapter 7

W
hen she reached the restaurant, Maren didn’t even bother taking off her coat. Making use of only the few lights that were on, she hurried down into the basement and flipped switches as she went. There was something about being in the basement when only half the lights were on that made her feel uneasy.

“Jared, are you in there?” she called as soon as she was near the walk-in refrigerator. She heard something muffled in response, but that could have just been her imagination working overtime.

What if he’d suffocated?

Adrenaline sped through her as she tried the handle. Her effort was met with resistance, and the handle wouldn’t budge. Desperate after several attempts, she got one of the large cans of pears from the storage room and banged it against the handle until it finally popped into an upright position. Syrup ran along the handle and door as she swung it open.

The instant there was a space, Jared wedged his way into it, popping out of the refrigerator like a freezing jack-in-the-box and colliding into Maren.

It took her a second to steady herself and to catch her breath. “How in God’s name did you get in there?” she demanded.

He had begun to think that he would never get out. It felt like an eternity between the time when he’d called her and when she’d opened the door. Jared couldn’t stop trembling. “Getting in wasn’t the problem.” The words came out in a shaky voice. “It was getting out that was the hard part.”

She felt her heart twist inside of her. The man was as pale as a ghost. “Oh, God, what were you doing there in the first place?” The dividing line between them had disappeared the moment she’d gotten his call. Right then, he wasn’t an employee or a man who made her leery. He didn’t even remind her of Kirk. He was just another human being, in need of help.

Maren looked around for something to wrap around him, but found nothing. She thought of draping her coat around his shoulders, but it was far too small to offer much help. So she began to run her hands up and down his arms, rubbing as hard as she could.

For a second he just stood there, absorbing the warmth she created. Absorbing the warmth her concern created, as well.

She’d asked him something. What was it? Oh, right. What he was doing here? Telling her that someone had locked him in would only drag up a host of problems and questions. He wanted this forgotten as quickly as possible. Only he and whoever had put him in here needed to know the truth.

He decided that lying was his best bet.
And why not? It is what you do,
a small voice in his head taunted.

“I had an idea for a new dish and I was looking to see if we had any duck. I knew you didn’t have any in the upstairs refrigerator, but I thought that maybe there was one down here. The door must have slipped after I walked in and I guess the lock sprang into place. It wouldn’t budge when I tried to open it.”

She shook her head. If he hadn’t had his cell phone on him, he would have spent the night in the refrigerator. He wouldn’t have frozen to death since they didn’t keep the temperature that low, but who knew just how much air was available once the door was shut?

Maren frowned at him, still rubbing his limbs. “You should have told someone where you were going. How long were you in there?”

“Awhile, I guess.” He couldn’t pretend he wasn’t reacting to her any longer. “What are you doing?”

She would have thought that was obvious. Maren rubbed harder. “Trying to stimulate your circulation.”

It took a great deal of concentration not to react to her the way any red-blooded man would. Her coat had parted and she was wearing what looked like a thin camisole underneath. She’d obviously not taken much time to get dressed after he’d called her. His blood continued warming.

“I think you’ve already accomplished that.” He managed to curve his lips into a smile.

She got his meaning instantly. But she continued rubbing his arms just in case. He wasn’t going to be any good to the restaurant if he had frostbite. “I see you’re back to normal.”

“Not quite.” He looked down at his hands. For a while there, he’d lost feeling in them. Now they ached something fierce. “I’ll probably never play the piano again.”

“You don’t play, do you?”

The grin was fleeting. “Not yet, but I was thinking about taking lessons.”

She stopped rubbing his arms. She thought of the other evening, in the storage area when he’d all but given her a heart attack. “Jared, you have to stop sneaking around like this.”

The shrug was casual, belonging to a boy who didn’t see that he’d done something worthy of blame. “Didn’t want to bother anyone. Max always seems to get bent out of shape if I want to try anything new and I didn’t want to get Rachel in the middle of it.”

Rachel was the woman who created the magic that they served under the heading of dessert. The woman represented Maren’s latest triumph since she’d stolen the pastry chef from another restaurant by promising her twice the salary and twice the vacation. Rachel Bristol couldn’t have come aboard fast enough.

“I doubt if Rachel would know a duck from a chicken,” Maren commented. Taking his right hand, she rubbed it between hers, then moved on to the other one. She was aware of his watching her. Her throat was beginning to dry. “You said you were in there awhile?”

He looked past her shoulder, trying to think of anything else but her nearness. “I’m not sure just how long.”

Something wasn’t making sense here. “Why didn’t you call me right away?”

The engaging boy was back. “Because I felt like an idiot.”

She laughed shortly, rubbing his hands as hard as she could. They were still stone-cold. “Right now, you feel like a Popsicle.”

“Well,” he began slowly, “there is one way to warm me up.” He saw the warning look that came instantly into her eyes and he backed off. Eventually, he wanted to wear her down, but not tonight. “Sorry, couldn’t seem to help myself.”

“I’m your boss, Jared.” She saw humor in his eyes. Humor and something more, something she couldn’t put a name to.

“No one’s arguing with that.”

“I can’t just….” Her voice trailed off.

“‘Just’ can be very pleasant if you give it half a chance.”

Suspicion entered her eyes. Kirk had lied to her, time and again. Who was to say that Jared wasn’t cut out of the same cloth? That he hadn’t done this to get her to rush down here and be alone with him now?

“Did you really get locked in there, or was this just some kind of elaborate scheme to get me to feel sorry for you?”

The grin was as innocent as a two-day-old child. “I’m not that devious.”

The hell he wasn’t, she thought. She stopped rubbing his hands. They’d warmed up a little, but he still looked cold. “I don’t know that for a fact.”

Jared crossed his heart, for the first time hating what he was doing. Knowing it was necessary. “What you see is what you get.”

She wasn’t about to tell him what she saw. A man who could easily bring her to her knees. A man who awakened things inside of her she didn’t want awakened. The way she’d driven at top speed to the restaurant just now had shown her that.

He made her feel vulnerable by being in the same room with her. She turned on her heel. “Come upstairs, I’ll make you some coffee.”

He wasn’t about to turn that down. Besides, she’d been avoiding him the past two days. This afforded him an opportunity to talk with her. To create a better atmosphere between them.

To pump her for information,
a small voice inside of him whispered. But it was what he’d been sent to do. To gather information from the inside.

“That sounds great,” he told her with feeling, falling into place behind her as she led the way upstairs.

She waited with her next question until they were in the kitchen. “Why didn’t you call the police?” Dissatisfied with the low level of lights now, she switched on the main one in the kitchen. Maren tossed her coat over the back of a chair and crossed to the urn. “Getting locked in a walk-in refrigerator constitutes an emergency in anyone’s book.”

Inserting the filter, she turned to look at him over her shoulder. “Most people don’t think of their boss when they’ve done something dumb.”

He cut the space between them until he was at her elbow. “I wasn’t thinking of you as a boss.”

She wished he’d stop standing so close to her. Stop making her feel this itch she couldn’t allow herself to scratch. “You have to stop talking like that.”

He leaned against the long, sleek counter. “It’s after hours. You just came to my rescue. I’m afraid I’m having trouble thinking of you strictly as a no-nonsense boss.”

“Well, you should.” She tried to sound all business. Funny, usually she had no trouble assuming the persona, especially with a difficult employee. But right now, it wasn’t working. “It might be better for both of us if you did.” She measured out just enough coffee and water for two cups and within minutes the coffee was brewed. She opened the spigot and let the liquid fill the glass pot. All the while, she kept her back to Jared. The less she looked into his eyes, the better.

“How do you take your coffee?” She moved two cups into position.

“Black.” His voice wrapped itself around her even though he didn’t move a muscle toward her. “Like velvet.”

Black velvet. The words were better suited to the man standing behind her than to the coffee she was pouring. He made her think of black velvet. Dark, luxurious. Sensual to the touch. Her eyes almost fluttered shut.

Maren made a conscious effort to seal away her thoughts. Carrying both cups to the small table on the side, she set them down and took a seat. Jared slid into the chair opposite her. Lifting the cup, he held it between his hands. Warming himself, she thought.

Concern slipped back into the mix. Here she was, thinking about her reaction to him and he might very well need some kind of medical treatment. “Do you want me to take you to the emergency room?”

He shook his head. “No, I’m beginning to thaw out. Nothing broke off while I was down there,” he added, holding up one hand and wiggling his fingers for her. A wicked grin on his lips.

Maybe her concern was misdirected. And the longer she remained, the less resistance she was going to possess. Maren began to get up again.

“Well, then, I’ll just—”

He placed his hand over hers, stopping her from rising. “But having coffee with you would go a long way to restoring me to my former self.”

“If you ask me, you’re already restored.”

“Please?”

Maren sighed. She knew she should just leave. It was late and there was a full day ahead of her, not the least of which involved finalizing plans for a wedding reception that was going to be held in their upstairs banquet room a week from Saturday.

But she hadn’t been able to sleep when he’d called her and something told her she wouldn’t get to sleep easily once she went home. She might as well stay here for a few more minutes. Maybe verbally define their respective roles in regard to one another.

Sinking back into the seat she’d never fully vacated, she fixed him with a long look. “You’re a very strange man, Jared Stevens.”

For some reason the sound of the phony name grated on his nerves. “I know a lot of people who would agree with you.”

“Female people?” The question had just popped up on its own.

His eyes were smiling as they met hers. “Some of them.”

She didn’t get him. Why bother trying to win her over? With his looks, he had to be fighting women off at every turn. What was his angle? Was it just that he was drawn to a challenge? Wanted what he felt he couldn’t have? Was she just a game, a prize, a carnival Kewpie doll he meant to knock down off her shelf? It made her feel better to think this way. It helped reinforce the need for her to maintain distance between them.

“You know, a man like you, I’d think you’d have an active social life, yet every time I look, you seem to be here—” she nodded around at the kitchen “—putting in more hours than you’re being paid for.” In all honesty, he was turning out to be an excellent addition to the staff. If only he didn’t make her feel itchy.

For a second his expression was unreadable. “Guess I’m just married to my job.” And then his eyes smiled as he watched her. “Kind of like you.” He leaned across the corner of the table, his face less than an inch from hers. “A beautiful woman like you should be out there, in the thick of it.”

“‘It’ doesn’t appeal to me,” she informed him tersely.

He wondered if she realized how sensual she looked, taking that stance. Things, he decided, would have gone a whole lot better for him if the woman wasn’t so damn beautiful.

But he was having a stronger reaction to Maren than he usually had to a beautiful woman. That was the problem. And while playing up to her, he kept getting himself tangled up in his own trap.

“And just what does appeal to you?” he asked.

“Making something of myself. Building a career, a reputation. Making Rainbow’s End the best restaurant that I can.”

She told him everything she’d believed to be true. Her career had meant everything to her. But in the wee hours of the morning, before the light came to chase away the shadows, something inside her whispered that work wasn’t enough.

Something was missing.

And Jared hit the target right on the head when he countered softly, “You can’t take that home with you at night.”

Her eyes met his. Why was he doing this? Why was he rocking the boat? “By the time I get home at night, I’m too tired to do anything but fall into bed. I don’t need anyone else in it.”

In his mind’s eye, he could see himself falling into bed with her, and his gut tightened in response. “Doesn’t sound like much of a life.”

He saw temper flare in her eyes as they narrowed. “It suits me.”

“Does it?”

“I don’t remember agreeing to a round of ‘Truth or Dare.’”

The smile on his lips washed over her, unsettling her even as she tried to resist its effect. “No one’s daring you, Maren.”

She sighed. Distance, she needed distance between them. Real and otherwise. “I guess there’s no point in telling you to call me Ms. Minnesota.”