Dangerous Flirt (11 page)

If she'd gotten to enjoy that last night and didn't remember, she sure as hell was going to be pissed off.

Hank cleared his throat, drawing her gaze upward.

“My eyes are up here you know.” He wriggled his eyebrows at her and a wicked grin spread across his face.

Her stomach dropped to her toes. She was a respectable, boring estate attorney who lived in a small town in Nebraska. She didn't have sex on the first date, let alone drunkenly marry her best friend's brother. The same brother who'd refused
to be her first lover, saying he didn't have sex with virgins. Embarrassment burned her cheeks.

“Um, did we…” She waved a hand over the bed, unable to bring herself to say the words.

“I'll leave it to your imagination while I go take a shower.”

He curled forward and dropped a quick peck on top of her head before getting out of bed. After a quick full-body stretch that showed off every muscle
in his toned back, he strutted to the bathroom, his form-fitting boxers highlighting his hard ass in all its glory.

Squeezing the soft sheets in her fists, Beth managed not to move until the bathroom door clicked shut. She waited a beat then tumbled out of the bed, hampered by the sheets twisted around her bare legs.

Frantic to get the hell out of there before he got out of the bathroom, she
searched the room for her dress. When she heard the shower turn on a few minutes later, she had to concede defeat. Neither her dress nor purse was there. No cell. No hotel key. No money. What in the hell was she going to do now?

Needing a clearer head than hers, she reached for the room phone. Fingers shaking, she dialed Claire's cell. Together, they'd figure out what to do next.

It took forever
for Claire to pick up.

“Hello?”

“Claire, I think I'm in trouble.” Panic tightened Beth's voice as she gripped the phone receiver.

“Where are you? What's happened?” Claire hollered over the sound of beeping and revving motors.

“I'm still in Vegas.” Beth couldn't think of how to break the news to her best friend. Where should she start?

“What's wrong? Did you gamble away your hotel money? Do
you need bail? What is it?”

“Oh shit, Claire,” she mumbled.

The blaring horn of a truck sounded over the line. “What? I can't hear you, Beth. Speak up!”

“I can't talk louder. He's in the bathroom. I had to wait for the shower to come on before I could call you.” She tried to rein in the nervousness playing havoc on her mind.

“Who's in the shower? Who's he?”

Taking a deep breath, she steeled
herself. The best solution was to put it all out there. “Claire, I think I married your brother.”

“What?”

Beth yanked the receiver away from her ear, ringing from the hollered question. The sound of running water stopped. She gulped and twisted the phone cord in her hand. “Oh God, the shower just turned off. What am I going to do?” Apprehension vibrated through her tense body.

“Beth, which
brother?” Claire screamed into the phone.

Hunching over the phone, she whispered, “Hank. I think I married Hank.”

The bathroom door opened, releasing a cloud of steam.

“Who you talking to?” Hank strolled out, a towel slung around his hips.

Flashing him a tight smile, she dropped the phone receiver onto the cradle. “Uh, no one. Room service, but I changed my mind.”

“Uh-huh.” Hank wandered
back into the bathroom.

Flopping back onto the bed, she tried to figure out how she'd get herself out of this mess.

As much fun as it was to see Beth squirming, Hank had to tell her they weren't married. It wasn't going to be pretty. Not that pretty was a word she inspired right now. He wasn't sure if the green-around-the-gills look was
from the idea of having him as a husband or the after-effects of her night out on the town. Either way, she looked like hell, with her hair shooting out in all directions and some black goop dotting the underside of her eyes.

So why did he still feel like tumbling her over and burying his face in that rat's nest on top of her head?

Giving in to the inevitable, Hank grabbed her dress from where
it had fallen behind the chaise lounge and tossed it to her. “We're not married.”

Hope lit her eyes. “We're not?” Beth jumped up from the bed and wiggled her lace-clad ass in celebration.

Damn, what was he, some kind of an ogre?

Annoyed with her obvious relief, Hank grumbled to himself. “Women.”

“Okay, so if we're not married, did I just dream about a really short Elvis?” The smooth material
of her dress muffled her words as she pulled it over her head.

Hank's spidey sense pulsated. Something was going on beyond the few verbal threats she’d told him about the other day. The truth of it crawled up his spine, sending off sparks of suspicion. “You sure you only had one drink last night?”

“You know what happened to my parents with the drunk driver. My limit has always been one.” She
secured the leather belt around her waist, pulling the material tightly closed. Her fingers stilled and she looked up, fear darkening her eyes. “Do you think someone slipped something into my drink?”

The idea made sense. It explained why Beth had been so out of it. But it didn't account for the two guys who’d followed them into the chapel. The more he thought about it, the more certain he was
she’d been targeted last night.

He sat down beside her on the bed. “Any idea why someone would have slipped you something and then followed you?”

Her face blanched. Her gaze fell to her lap, where her hands twisted the silk of her dress into a knot of worry.

“What aren't you telling me, Beth?”

She turned her dark-brown eyes toward him. Flecks of gold in her irises shimmered with unshed tears.
“It's probably nothing, but you know someone is buying up the land around my grandparents’ house? They'll only buy if everyone agrees to sell. I'm the last holdout.”

Understanding dawned. The Lakota casino was set to open up next year in Council County. The tribe announced the casino would go near the Highway Five entrance to the reservation, but it hadn’t been finalized yet.

“You know, a lot
of folks don’t believe the casino will go where the tribe announced. According to town gossip, plenty of people were gambling millions on land that may or may not lead to the new casino.” He strode to her side. “Whoever guesses right stands to make a fortune. Hotels, restaurants and other auxiliary businesses would pay top dollar to locate near the casino.”

With that kind of money at stake, Beth
was playing a dangerous game without backup.

Hank wrapped an arm around her shoulder and hugged her closer. “So that explains why you've been getting threats. Has anyone threatened you to your face?”

She snorted into his shoulder. “Mrs. Cranston said she'd always known you couldn't trust a Mexican to do the right thing.”

“Mrs. Cranston is an ignorant old bag who'd better hope she doesn't get
caught speeding in Dry Creek County.”

Chuckling darkly, Beth pushed away from him. “Thanks.” She stood and started pacing, her bare feet leaving indentions in the plush carpet. “I've gotten some nasty anonymous phone calls and texts. Someone vandalized the house.”

He jumped up from the bed and grabbed her elbow, forcing her to stop pacing. “What?”

She kept her face averted. “Yeah, the day my
car conked out for the billionth time, but nothing too bad. Some broken windows and spray-painted walls.”

Anger burbled inside of him, making his gut clench. “Why didn't you tell me when I gave you a ride home?”

“The house is just over the border in Council County. I reported it to Sheriff Wilcox. He said it was probably just kids partying in an abandoned house.”

He just bet the lazy, corrupt
son of a bitch did think that. “So what's he going to do about it?”

“Nothing. Oh, he says he’ll look into the threats, but nothing ever happens.” She wrapped around her chest, her hands rubbing her upper arms. “He suggested I sell.”

“There must be a stream of stupid flowing into Council County's water supply.”

“Yeah, now you understand why I live in Dry Creek.” She smiled wanly at her tepid
joke.

“Not that I want you to sell, but why haven't you?”

“My grandfather built that house. He'd work a twelve-hour shift in the slaughterhouse and then turn around and spend his off hours building the house. It took him ten years to complete it. Sure, it's an ugly house, but it's my only tie to my family. It's all I have left of them.” A single tear slid over one high cheekbone, but fire burned
in her gaze. “I won't sell. Ever.”

Now family,
that
he could understand.

“Okay. So tell me about last night.” He wanted to pull her into his arms, but she looked as skittish as a calf on branding day.

“I went to dinner with other conference speakers and attendees. We had reservations for a table at one of the hotel clubs, so we went there. I had a glass of pop at dinner, a champagne at the
club, and then everything went fuzzy.”

“Anyone from home with you?”

“At the dinner, most everyone was from the firm. At the club there were several people from home. A few were already at the club when we got there.” She clutched a fist to her stomach. “Could the drug still be in my system?”

He was going to enjoy the feel of his fist crushing the jaw of whoever did this. “It's unlikely. Your
symptoms sound like it was GHB or Rohypnol, and both tend not to leave trace evidence behind.”

She sank down to the chaise lounge, her normal latte complexion ashen. “Great. So there's no way to prove it.”

Hank shook his head. “Not likely.” The fact that he was impotent to do more than offer advice rankled him.

Beth threw up her hands, stormed over to her shoes and swiped them off the floor
before flopping down onto a stiff desk chair. Stuffing her feet inside each high heel, she tucked her mussed hair behind her ears. She leaned forward and fastened the delicate straps around her tiny ankles. The move accentuated her long neck.

Assaulted by unbidden visions of sucking on her earlobe and trailing hot kisses down the tender column of her throat, Hank sucked in a deep breath. This
was not the time for that. “We need to report this to the local police.”

Anger snapped in her gaze when she leveled those brown eyes on him. “Hell no.”

“Don't be stupid.”

“You know what's stupid? Turning to law enforcement with a story that I may have been drugged, but can't prove it and anyway nothing bad happened.” She rose to her full height. Her aggressive stance emphasized by the hands
on her hips. “I think the Las Vegas Police Department has more pressing things to take care of and so do I. The conference panel I'm on begins in three hours, and I still need to finalize my Power Point.” She held out her hand to him, palm up toward the ceiling. “So give me my purse.”

She hadn't told him about how many threats there had been or the vandalism.

She'd danced a jig when she'd found
out they weren't married.

She was acting like a stubborn fool about being drugged.

He should warn her not to let the door hit her on the ass on her way out.

But he couldn't.

He may have been so blinded by lust last night that he forgot about his honor, but not now. Too many signs warned of danger ahead. He reached between the mattress and box spring, pulled out her small black purse and held
it out.

Eyeing him warily, she crossed the room and grabbed the purse. Her gaze narrowed when he wouldn't surrender it to her. “What now?”

“Your thing's in three hours?”

“Yeah.” She tugged at the purse.

Laying on his best aw-shucks charm, he kept the purse locked in his grasp. “What a coincidence. I've been hoping to learn more about estate planning. We'll take a cab to your hotel so you can
finish up and then head over to the conference together.”

“Really?” She was giving him her best you’re-full-of-shit look. “Isn't that convenient.”

“I agree. So, you'll give me a couple of minutes?”

“Look, Hank, I appreciate you coming to my rescue last night. Really, I do. But I’m fine today and I can take care of myself.” She yanked on the purse to no avail.

He let all pretense fall from
his face. “No. There were two guys following you.”

Her mouth tightened and fear flashed in her eyes before disappearing. “Probably just wolves thinking they’d found a drunk and helpless sheep.” Releasing the purse, she stepped back. “Hank, thank you for your help last night but this isn’t your battle.”

Ouch. That hurt like a jab to the nose. “So you say.”

“Why are you doing this?” She crossed
her arms and probably would have shot laser beams from her eyes at him if it was possible.

“It's the right thing to do.” Tucking the purse under an arm, he headed toward the bathroom to gather his shaving gear.

“Where have I heard that high-minded phrase before?”

He shut the door against her question, knowing those words had changed their lives on a hot summer night a long time ago—and they
were about to do it again.