“Nah, this is for you and the movie cast. And you know me, I’m always glad to get a good night’s sleep.”
He readily accepted her excuse. “Okay, get some rest.”
She nodded, offering him a smile filled with calmness she didn’t feel.
He disappeared out of the bedroom and Annie couldn’t help noticing he didn’t even give her a kiss good-bye. And she thought of another kiss she’d had today. Her toes curled into the carpet at the memory. A memory she had to forget. . . she had to, not only because it was the right thing to do but because it was the only way to keep them safe.
“Hi.” As soon as the single word was out of his mouth, Nick wished that he’d come up with something cleverer. But he hadn’t expected to see Annie in the front lobby. He’d figured she’d be at her own desk, and he’d simply avoid her as he went to talk to a couple of the other
HOT!
employees. He knew he was going to see her tonight, but he’d thought it best to give her a little space today.
So much for that.
Annie swung around from her conversation with the lobby receptionist to greet him with those wide, stormy gray eyes of hers.
“Hi,” was all she managed back, but then maybe because she realized the blond receptionist was watching them, Annie smiled, the gesture a little stiff.
“Are you here to do more questioning?” she asked, her voice polite and distant.
“Yes.” He nodded, wishing he could take his eyes off her lips and stop thinking about how wonderful they had tasted. How amazing she’d felt against him.
“Questioning?” the blond receptionist asked, leaning forward on her desk, the pose making her low-cut sweater even more revealing. “What kind of questioning?”
She smiled at him as she waited for him to answer. That same hungry smile from the other day.
“I’m investigating several former employees that have gone missing over the past few years,” he explained, keeping his tone professional, disinterested. Which wasn’t hard with her, but with Annie ...
Damn. Here the blonde was throwing her assets out there for the world to see, yet it was Annie in her simple black turtleneck sweater who kept his gaze returning again and again to her.
She was lovely.
But he needed to stop. Last night, awake in his bed, his whole body recalling their kiss, he’d realized he couldn’t push himself on Annie. She didn’t deserve that.
Yet here in her presence, he only knew one thing. He wanted her. But he had to stay focused on why he was here and on making sure she was fine and knew she could trust him to behave himself.
“Missing people,” the blonde said, her blue eyes wide. “That’s pretty scary.”
Nick forced his attention away from Annie and on to the receptionist. “Yes, it is.”
The blonde started to ask something else, but the phone cut her thought short. Nick would have liked to have thanked the caller on the other end personally, and as soon as the other woman was distracted, he turned his attention to Annie.
“How are you?” He needed to know.
“I’m fine.” Her voice was cool and clipped, her sweet Southern twang almost gone. “And please don’t let me keep you. I know you have work to do.”
Nick nodded, knowing a brush-off when he heard one, but he wasn’t going to leave—nor was he going to let her leave—without saying something about what had happened between them.
He glanced at the receptionist, making sure she was still occupied with her phone call. When he was sure she wouldn’t hear, he shifted closer to Annie and said quietly, “Annie, I think we should clear the air about yesterday. I just want to say—”
She immediately raised her hand just as she had on the street.
“We don’t need to talk about this,” she said, still not looking at him. “It was an accident, not a big deal and best forgotten.”
Nick laughed then, although the sound didn’t exactly hold any humor. “I’m not sure accident is the right word.”
Annie seemed to almost flinch at his words, but since he couldn’t see her eyes, he wasn’t sure if she was upset, angry, or ashamed.
“Fine then,” she said softly, “it was a mistake.”
He knew he should just let it go. If she saw their kiss as a mistake, so be it. But he just couldn’t do it. That kiss had only been a mistake because she was taken; otherwise it had been the most perfect kiss he’d ever shared with a woman, and he wasn’t going to label it anything other than that.
“Oh, it definitely wasn’t a mistake,” Nick stated, his voice just firm enough that she raised her head to look at him, clearly startled by his conviction. “It was amazing, wonderful. Something I would love to share with you again, but—”
His words were interrupted by the sound of the double doors to the main offices opening. Into the lobby walked Finola and Tristan.
“Nick,” Finola called out as soon as she saw him.
Chapter Nine
A
nnie immediately stepped back from Nick as soon as Finola joined them. She hadn’t wanted to continue the discussion she’d been having with Nick, but she couldn’t exactly say she was pleased to have Finola be the one who interrupted it.
Finola strode up to him, looking amazing in a white pantsuit, the fit tailored to every curve of her body.
She took his hands in hers and leaned in to kiss his cheek.
Annie noticed that Nick didn’t react with the same enthusiasm, his posture stiff, but Annie still hated to see the other woman touching him in any way.
Because you know what hides under that human mask she wears, Annie told herself. Which was partially true. But not totally. Another part of her just didn’t like seeing another woman touch him.
But she was going to have to let that feeling go. Nick wasn’t hers. He never would be. Period.
“Are you here to talk with some of my employees?”
Nick nodded. “Yes. Is that still okay with you?”
Finola grinned at him as if he was just the silliest thing. “Of course. I can’t be here, because Tristan and I have to go to Lincoln Center to meet with some of the directors who will handle our participation in the Fashion Week shows.”
The receptionist, who was no longer on the phone, chose that moment to pipe in. “I could take him to whoever he wants to talk with.”
Finola frowned at the woman, and Annie could see her pale gaze taking in the woman’s long, wavy blond hair, perfectly made-up face, and formfitting, low-cut dress with matching five-inch-heeled sandals.
“Why, that won’t be necessary,” Finola said, her tone taking on the deceptively sweet quality that Annie had learned to recognize as a cover for her irritation.
Jenna clearly wasn’t familiar with that particular trait, because she continued. “It’s not a problem.” She smiled widely at Nick. “I would enjoy showing the detective around.”
Annie nearly groaned for the younger woman. She really had no clue what trouble she could potentially be in.
“Anna will help him, if he needs it. Won’t you, Anna?”
Annie nodded, wishing she didn’t have to be a part of any of this, but unlike the young blond receptionist, she knew it was always best to just agree.
“Well, we must run along now, but I will see you tonight,” she said to Nick.
He nodded. “At seven o’clock, although Annie—Anna—is being very secretive about what we are doing.” He glanced at Annie, but thankfully he didn’t smile or wink. He did nothing flirty in the least, for which Annie was very grateful.
“Well, both Anna and Tristan are being very hush-hush. But I’m sure their choice will be delightful.”
Nick glanced back at Annie, then over to Tristan, who’d remained slightly apart. “Anna and Tristan, huh? I didn’t realize they were both going with us.”
Finola laughed as if his comment was the most amusing thing she’d ever heard. “Of course they are coming. This is a double date.”
Nick nodded, but didn’t say anything more. Finola offered him another cheek kiss, then she and Tristan disappeared into the elevator.
As soon as the door slid closed, Nick said, “You are dating Tristan? He’s your boyfriend?”
“No,” Annie answered without hesitation. “Finola just wanted us both to go. I’m not sure why.”
That wasn’t completely true, but Nick didn’t need to know anything more.
She noticed that he actually looked relieved at her answer. Then he validated her opinion by saying, “I don’t like that guy.”
Annie was about to tell him he definitely had good instincts, but decided that was just going to open up a can of worms she’d rather stayed closed.
Instead she offered to take him to whomever he wanted to question.
He nodded. “I would like to talk to Carrie Hall.”
She nodded, heading back to the offices.
“So tell me,” he said as he followed her through the bustling maze of magazine employees, “why does Finola call you Anna?”
She didn’t slow down or look back at him. “Because she doesn’t think the name Annie is classy enough.”
“But Anna isn’t your name.”
She stopped in front of a closed door, now looking at him. “Well, that doesn’t much matter to Finola White. She does exactly what she wants.”
He studied her closely for a moment. “And doing exactly what she wants could entail making employees disappear, couldn’t it?”
Annie didn’t look away, knowing he’d read that as assent or as purposely avoiding the subject, which she was. But she chose to appear unshaken by his question.
“This is Carrie’s office,” she said instead. “Good luck with your interviews. If you need anything, you know where to find me.”
She started to walk away, but Nick’s voice stopped her.
“She shouldn’t be allowed to call you by the wrong name.”
Annie paused for just a second, but decided to keep going without acknowledging his comment. Nick was right: there were plenty of things that Finola shouldn’t be allowed to do, but no one was going to stop her.
Nick didn’t seek out Annie, realizing she wanted a break from him. Her walls were firmly up at the moment, and he knew pestering her wasn’t going to help them come down.
Instead he focused on his work. He spent a majority of the day asking the higher-ups in the magazine what they could recall about the missing people. And although he wasn’t surprised, he was disappointed that none of them had much to share. Some remembered them vaguely, others didn’t remember them at all. And none had any details on what might have happened to them.
It was as if everyone at the magazine was hiding something. And maybe they were. Or protecting someone.
Frustrated, he decided he’d spent enough time at
Hot!
for today. He glanced in the direction of Annie’s desk in the reception area, but then decided just to head out. He would see her tonight, which was going to be an exercise in torture to say the least. He found it virtually impossible to be around her and not want her.
But he did turn the other way, heading back to the lobby.
Just as he reached the lobby’s double doors, they opened and the old mailroom clerk stepped through. He didn’t have his mail cart with him today.
“Hello,” Nick greeted, but the old man only nodded, picking up his pace as he moved past him. Nick paused to watch him go, wondering what had him in such a hurry.
Late mail delivery, an urgent package pickup. Nick supposed there were any number of postal issues he could be dealing with.
Nick pushed the door open and stepped into the lobby. Almost instantly, a weird feeling overtook him, making his skin tingly. He saw the blond receptionist at her desk, but otherwise the waiting area was empty. And instead of acknowledging him as he expected, she just stared straight ahead.
At her computer, he thought, but as he stepped farther into the room, her gaze seemed to go straight through it, as if she was lost in thought.
Carefully, he approached the desk, that strange, uncomfortable prickling tingling up his spine. Especially when he got closer, she didn’t respond.
“Hey there,” he said softly, almost afraid of how she might react if he startled her.
Still she didn’t acknowledge him.
He moved around more directly into her line of view.
“Jenna,” he said, a bit louder this time, and this time she did lift her gaze to meet his.
His breath caught. Her eyes fixed on his, but her gaze was flat, empty. There was no sign of the smiling, flirting young woman he’d met before.
Just like Jessica Moran. Just like her, this woman was gone. Disappeared.
“Jenna? Are you okay?” he asked, even though he knew she wasn’t.
Her head bobbed up and down in response, but it was as if she was on autopilot.
Nick actually jumped, startled by the sudden peal of the phone next to her.
She turned to it, her movements oddly robotic, jerky and abrupt. She lifted the phone, “
HOT!
, Jenna speaking, how may I help you?”
She waited, silent, utterly still.
“I will transfer you.” She pressed the correct button, waited for the connection, then hung up the phone. And again, she just fell silent, staring straight ahead.
Nick started to ask her what was wrong, what had happened, but stopped. She couldn’t answer him.
Instead he hurried back to the double doors, rushing through the inner office, not caring about bumping into people, not caring that he probably looked like a crazy person racing through the place. He had to get to Annie and show her this. He needed someone else to validate what he was seeing. And maybe if she saw it firsthand she’d realize she needed to talk. She needed to tell anything she knew about Finola.
When he barged into her reception area, she was talking to an older man. Nick recognized the man instantly as the mailroom clerk he’d seen the first morning in the lobby. The clerk who had noticeably been curious about him.
They both stared at him, confusion on their faces, as he rushed up to the desk.
“Annie, you have to come with me,” he said, knowing he sounded breathless and pretty much crazy.
“What’s going on?” she asked, clearly unnerved by his behavior. “What’s happened?”
“You have to come see the receptionist out front. Something is wrong with her.”
Annie glanced at the older man, but to Nick’s surprise she stood up, not asking for any more explanation than that. She came around her desk, and did pause then. “Should I call for help?”
He shook his head, reaching for her hand. “No, just come with me.”
He tugged her back through the hallway, this time trying to be a little calmer. He didn’t want to draw any more attention than necessary. Not when he had Annie with him.
This place was dangerous. He was certain of that. And he did not want Annie put at risk.
He quickened his pace when the double doors were finally in view, shoving them open with more force than necessary.
The blonde at the receptionist’s desk made a small squeak as they rushed in. Then in a perky, if somewhat startled, voice she asked, “May I help you?”
Nick came to a halt in the center of the room.
“Who are you?” he asked, immediately looking around for Jenna.
“I’m Chelsea.”
Nick stopped scanning the room, realizing only the three of them were there. Jenna was gone. Now physically gone as well as mentally.
“Can I help you?” Chelsea asked again.
“Where did Jenna go?” Nick demanded.
Chelsea shook her head, confused. Then her eyes lit with sudden dawning.
“Oh Jenna, the usual receptionist.”
Annie nodded. “Yes, she was here just a few minutes ago.”
“She went home sick. She wasn’t feeling well. I’m new here, I usually only work weekends, but I was called in today.”
“Oh, okay. That’s good. We were actually worried about Jenna,” Annie said, her voice calm and composed, not at all what Nick was feeling inside. “Thanks for letting us know.”
Annie then squeezed the hand she still held, urging him to follow her. He did, allowing her to lead him back to the main offices, but instead of returning to her desk, she led him down a side hall, away from the bustle of the other employees.
“Nick,” she finally said once they were alone in a hallway that looked like it housed the janitorial department and a freight elevator. “What was that all about?”
“Jenna was not just sick,” Nick said, that strange prickling sensation still lingering, making the skin on the back of his neck and down his spine tingle. “She was acting just like Jessica Moran.”
Annie stared at him for a few moments. “Nick, the new receptionist said she went home sick.”
Nick shook his head. “She didn’t. And mark my words, that woman will never be back here. She’s gone.”
Annie stared at Nick, fear and guilt roiling in her stomach, threatening to make her ill. Was he right? Had another employee just gone missing, as easily as that?
Yes. She knew it was true. That receptionist had angered Finola by flirting with Nick, and just like that she’d been disposed of. But Annie couldn’t tell Nick that. What good would it do? It would just get him hurt too—worse than hurt. Cast into Hell for all time.
“I’m sure she’s fine,” Annie said, trying to make her tone as calm and soothing as she could.
Nick frowned down at her for several moments, then nodded, although she knew he didn’t believe her.
Behind them the doors opened, and the mail clerk appeared, now pushing his cart ahead of him. He frowned, seeming surprised to find the two of them back in this utility hallway.