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“I don’t know,” Annie admitted, her tone a little desperate. “She just told me to find out everything about you. So I was just asking anything that came to mind.”
He couldn’t help laughing, both with amusement and amazement. “And I take it you do whatever she asks.”
“Yes, that’s my job,” she said, her tone resigned, bordering on hopeless.
His laughter died instantly. All bosses could be demanding, but Finola’s expectations seemed to go beyond just being demanding. And he knew in his gut, past employees had paid a steep price for not doing whatever Finola demanded.
He did not want to see Annie come to the same fate as those others. Suddenly this strange task wasn’t so funny, but a sign that others would suffer—or even die—if he didn’t figure out what was going on at this company. Possibly Annie herself. That idea was very, very sobering.
Definitely time for him to get back to business himself. He reached for his messenger bag, opened the flap and pulled out his notebook. He pushed the list of victims’ names toward her. This page contained only seven names—all past personal assistants of Finola’s.
“Was doing whatever Finola asked these people’s jobs too?”
She scanned the list briefly, then looked back to him. Her expression was guarded, but she nodded. “If they were Finola White’s assistants, then yes, their jobs were to do what she asked.”
“And what kind of things do you think she asked?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. I only know what she asks me to do, and while sometimes her requests are outlandish, they haven’t been illegal.”
He studied her, his gut saying she was telling the truth. But he still believed that if anyone knew private things about Finola White, it had to be Annie. She worked very closely with the woman. In fact, he’d already deduced that the two people most likely to be aware of Finola’s nefarious deeds, if there were any, would be Annie and Tristan McIntrye. But even from just the brief meeting yesterday, Nick got the feeling he wouldn’t get any straight answers from Finola’s right-hand man. That left Annie.
“Did you know any of these people?”
She glanced at the list again, then shook her head. “No.”
Again, he believed her. Why would she know them? They had already disappeared before she was hired. But she needed to see the list and realize that this could be her fate too if she didn’t help him.
“You were hired to replace this woman,” he said, pointing to the last name on the list. Jessica Moran.
“She’d moved here from New Hampshire to start a career in the magazine industry. She majored in journalism with a minor in sociology. She wanted to work for one of the newsmagazines,
Time
or
Newsweek
, but
HOT!
was the magazine that hired her. Fashion wasn’t her area of interest, but she thought working for the great Finola White would be a wonderful experience, and in truth, she needed the job.”
He paused, watching Annie’s face, trying to see if any of this sounded familiar to her, but she just continued to stare at the list.
Only a slight nibbling at her lower lip revealed any sign that the story was affecting her. And he knew for certain she identified with the other girl’s story. He’d already done a little background check on Annie Lou Riddle. He knew where she grew up, what college she attended, her major—or rather majors—even her grades.
She, too, was a girl from a small town, looking to make it big in the world of publishing. Her story differed from Jessica’s because
HOT!
magazine was totally Annie’s dream job. She’d majored in fashion design and journalism. But overall, their backgrounds were very similar.
“Jessica must have seen the position of Finola White’s personal assistant as a godsend. But her good luck didn’t last. She only worked for
HOT!
magazine for a total of two months. Then she was gone. Her family reported her missing, and just a few weeks ago, she was found.”
Annie’s head popped up, her gaze meeting his, almost as if she was surprised to hear that news.
“That’s good. Isn’t it?”
He nodded. “Well, it’s good she’s alive, but she’s not the person who disappeared. She’s in this strange almost catatonic state.”
Annie grew wan, looking almost as pale as her employer. Her eyes shone with dismay.
But what interested Nick most was that her reaction didn’t seem to be one of surprise or shock, but rather dread.
“I’m very sorry to hear that,” she finally said, her voice even. She still didn’t make eye contact with him. “I would like to be of some help, but I didn’t know any of these people.”
Nick nodded as if he accepted her response, but then he turned the page. “And what about these people? Anyone you recognize here?”
 
Annie stared down at the second page of names, nausea gripping her stomach. So many people. So many bargains made and lost. As selfish as it was, she couldn’t allow herself to be one of them.
She started to shake her head, when her gaze landed on Sheila Bernard.
Sheila.
All these months, she’d wanted to believe Sheila had decided working in the mailroom at
HOT!
just wasn’t her thang, as she would have said.
I tell you, girl, this mailroom gig, it ain’t my thang.
Annie shook her head slightly, hearing Sheila’s sassy voice as if the feisty, fun and truly nice woman was sitting right beside her. Sheila had been one of the few people at
HOT!
who’d reached out to Annie with any type of friendship.
She’d delivered the mail daily—and every day she’d have some funny story or comments or just a big smile for Annie. That smile had been so welcome, especially in those early days when Annie had first realized what she’d gotten herself into.
Then one day, Sheila was gone. Annie had told herself that she’d had finally made good on her constant threats that she was going to quit. Sheila had wanted to be an artist. Annie had seen some of her paintings and they were amazing. She had a real eye for seeing the small things, the details others might have missed.
Had that been the very thing that had gotten Sheila into trouble? Had she seen too much?
No. Even now, even seeing her name printed on that page, Annie didn’t want to believe she wasn’t out there somewhere. Of course she probably was out there somewhere. A body without a soul. Just like the personal assistant who’d worked for Finola before Annie.
A cold chill snaked down her spine and she didn’t manage to suppress her shiver. Soulless. She wouldn’t let that happen to her.
“So do you see someone you know?” Nick said, his voice like her own conscience.
Annie stared at her friend’s name a moment longer, then shook her head. “No. I don’t know any of these people.”
She forced herself to calmly push the notebook back toward him and return her attention to her lunch, but the vegetables might as well have been straw in her mouth.
I’m sorry, Sheila, she said silently. I wish I could help, but I have to look out for myself.
The things going on at
HOT!
were so much bigger than Nick could imagine. Certainly the police weren’t going to be able to protect anyone.
She prayed that, wherever Sheila was, she understood that.
Chapter Seven
S
nowflakes drifted through the air when Nick and Annie stepped out of the diner.
“Wow, it’s beautiful,” Nick said, hoping to engage Annie’s attention again, but since she’d looked at that list, she’d been quiet. His earlier suspicions about her reactions had been right. When pushed, Annie shut down. All her walls were up, not even allowing small glimpses of the sweet woman he’d seen here and there throughout their lunch.
Hell, he actually found himself missing the random questions she’d been firing at him earlier. In truth, he’d rather enjoyed them, the surprise of what she might ask next. Of course he
had
liked them better when he’d thought they were to satisfy her own curiosity, not for the benefit of Finola White.
He also would be willing to bet Annie had developed these walls to keep herself safe. Seven of Finola’s personal assistants had met awful ends; that alone had to be enough to make Annie wary. To make her careful and closed.
He’d also bet money, big money, that she knew a lot more than she was saying about the past employees and about her current employer. But he couldn’t fault her for keeping quiet about what she knew. After all, she could be in danger if she talked.
He considered telling her that he understood her hesitation, but he decided now wasn’t the time. If he pushed any more right now, he suspected she wouldn’t ever talk.
She stood on the sidewalk, waiting for the light to change so they could cross the street. Her arms were crossed over her middle, not from the cold, but because she was subconsciously trying to protect herself. And she still wouldn’t look at him.
She was scared.
He wanted to tell her that he could keep her safe, but that was a big promise to make, especially when he didn’t even know what he was dealing with yet. Instead he decided it would be better just to get her talking about anything other than the case, what she might or might not know, and especially her boss.
“So what is
your
favorite food?” he asked, hoping to distract her and hoping to hear her pretty voice. It was amazing he could miss it so quickly. Besides, he really did want to know things about her too.
She glanced at him, her cheeks pink from the cold air, snowflakes clinging to her hair.
“Crawfish.”
He smiled at that. “A real Southern girl, huh?”
She wavered for a moment, then managed a small smile back, something akin to gratitude in her gray-blue eyes. She seemed to realize that, at least for now, he was going to drop any talk about the disappearances at her workplace.
“And what’s your favorite season?” he asked, his voice just a little teasing.
“Well, I have to admit, most of the time, I don’t love the cold.”
“Southerner,” he teased.
“
But
,” she continued, giving him a warning look that made him smile even wider, “when it snows like this, it is pretty beautiful.”
She lifted her face toward the sky for a moment, then smiled at him. Snowflakes clung to her thick eyelashes, while others melted and glittered on her creamy skin like precious jewels.
Nick felt his body react instantly. Annie Lou Riddle fascinated him. She’d intrigued him from the first time he saw her, in a way he couldn’t explain and had never experienced before.
They headed slowly down 8th Avenue, neither of them in a hurry to get back to their lives. It was as if they believed that if they stayed in this snowy world, reality would be held at bay.
“Do you have any pets?” he asked, and she shot him a sidelong glance.
“Do you really care if I have any pets? Or are you just teasing me about all the silly questions I asked you earlier?”
He turned toward her, walking backward, pressing a hand to his chest as if mortally wounded. “How can you ask that? Of course I care.”
She laughed then, and two of his organs leapt in response. One in his chest, the other in his jeans.
“No, I don’t have any pets. But growing up I had a pet pig named Tootsie.”
“After Dustin Hoffman?”
Annie laughed again. “No, after Tootsie Rolls. She loved them.”
Nick nodded, looking impressed.
“Why would you want to know anything about me?” she said after a moment, and he could hear suspicion in her voice.
It didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize she was still uncomfortable with him and what his motivation might be.
“Maybe I just want to get to know you,” he said, his words utterly honest. “Maybe I’m interested in you the way Finola is interested in me.”
She came to a stop, her expression one of surprise and concern, but he could swear he saw flickers of longing in her wide gray eyes too.
Before he thought better of it, he walked back to her and caught her hand. Her fingers were freezing against his warm palm and he instinctively took both her hands in his, rubbing them.
She looked down at their joined hands, then up at him. Her eyes darkened to the same color as the sky above them and this time he was certain it was with desire. The same desire that zinged through his body like some crazy electrical current.
“Speaking of your earlier questions, you do realize I never answered the most important one you asked,” he said.
She stared at him expectantly, her gaze only leaving his for a moment to again glance at their hands.
“What question is that?” she asked, her Southern accent more pronounced than usual. Her cheeks flushed pink. Pretty, pretty pink.
“No,” he said and he leaned in closer to her. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”
And he kissed her.
 
Annie froze as Nick’s lips brushed against hers. For just the briefest moment, she told herself to pull away. That she couldn’t do this. But those thoughts drifted away as easily as snowflakes in the breeze around them. His lips moved over hers, slowly, perfectly. Just like that her mouth softened, molding to his as if she’d been made for him. As if he was made for her. She could feel the coolness of the winter air, the taste of snow on his lips, then his tongue slipped inside her mouth, so sweetly hot, and she melted.
She made a small noise, but her arms came up to circle his neck, trying to find purchase amid the desire that swirled around them, a storm of its own. Only the longing deep inside her wasn’t delicate or gentle like the snow around them. It was powerful and pounding, threatening to overcome her.
Suddenly the force of that need frightened her, bringing her to her senses. She pulled away from Nick, stumbling backward, bumping into a man passing by.
“Hey,” the man muttered, stopping to glare at her.
“I—I’m sorry,” she said, flustered from the kiss and her clumsiness.
“Watch what the hell you’re doing,” the man said, his eyes flashing with more than irritation.
Nick came forward, tucking Annie against his side, his eyes hard and fierce.
“There’s no need to get so worked up. It was an accident.”
The man glowered at them for a moment longer, but then he moved on, clearly not willing to tangle with Nick. Although he couldn’t resist muttering “damned fools” over his shoulder once there was more distance between him and Nick.
“You okay?” he asked, still holding her, but leaning forward to study her face.
She nodded, far more affected by their kiss than by the belligerent man. And equally affected by Nick’s protection. Protection. When was the last time someone stood up for her, defended her, made her feel safe? Safe, what a wonderful feeling, as wonderful as his amazing kiss.
“Not everyone can be as charming as me,” Nick said, giving her one of his crooked grins.
A much too tempting grin. Annie moved out of his hold again, not wanting to leave the safe haven of his arms, but also knowing it wasn’t really her safe haven.
Nick Rossi couldn’t be that to her. Ever.
“Annie,” he said, concerned by her withdrawal, but she raised a hand to stop him. She felt too raw, overcome by longing, desire, sorrow, guilt. It was all too much. She couldn’t even pull in a full breath. This was too much. Way too much.
“Annie,” he said softly, stepping toward her, but he didn’t touch her. Fortunately. She couldn’t handle his touch. Not with the way she wanted it and feared it. But he did say her name again, making her look at him. All the naughty glint and charm was gone from his golden eyes, replaced by uncertainty, concern.
“Annie, are you okay?”
She shook her head. “You should have asked me that last question, too.”
He frowned, clearly not following.
“You don’t have a girlfriend, but I do have a boyfriend.”
With the disclosure, she fled, dashing away from him as quickly as her high heels and the snow would allow.
She was relieved that Nick didn’t follow her.
 
“Where have you been?”
Annie winced at the deceptively melodious voice behind her as she hurried back to her desk. Annie turned to find Finola—and the ever-present Tristan—standing in the doorway that led to the
HOT!
boardroom.
“I’m sorry,” Annie said automatically, shedding her coat and dropping her purse beside her office chair. “I was meeting with Detective Rossi.”
Tristan straightened from where he leaned on the doorframe. All signs of world-weary boredom vanished from his eyes.
What caused that reaction? Did Nick have him nervous? But Annie didn’t have time to consider that idea or what it might mean, because Finola had also moved to stand directly in front of her.
“What did you find out?”
That he was an amazing kisser. The thought popped unbidden into her head, just as it had many, many times since she’d left him standing on the sidewalk. But she forced the thought aside, praying her embarrassment and guilt didn’t show on her face.
“I found out he’s single.”
Finola smiled, her ruby lips curling into a self-satisfied grin as if he was already as good as hers. “And what else?”
Annie sorted through what she knew. That he had a naughty smile that was so very charming. That his dark eyes twinkled like he knew a joke and he was sharing it no one else but you. That he liked autumn best of all the seasons, because he liked the crunch of fallen leaves under his feet and the smell of them in the crisp air. That he himself seemed to smell like autumn, clean and earthy and so masculine. That he was protective and strong, and he could make a woman feel safe just by putting an arm around her. And she would remember the feeling of his mouth against hers for a long, long time.
“He likes turkey subs with extra lettuce and mustard instead of mayo.”
Finola tilted her head, clearly confused. “What?”
“I—I didn’t get to ask him too much,” Annie finally said, puzzled by her own answer. She had asked the man plenty of questions, but she chose his lunch choice as the fact to share?
Because you don’t want him with Finola. It’s that simple.
Finola held Annie with her icy gray stare for a few more moments, then sighed. “Well I suppose you did manage to find out the most important thing. Not that I would have cared if he was involved with someone or not. But it does make the situation less complicated.”
Annie didn’t react to her callous words; they didn’t surprise her. Finola would destroy anyone to get what she wanted. Of course she would. She was a demon. It wasn’t like her moral compass was set due north. In fact, she didn’t even have a compass.
Not that Annie was feeling very good about her own moral compass today. Never in her life had she seen herself as a woman who could kiss one man while involved with another. She’d been faithful to Bobby all the years they’d been together.
Until today.
She looked away from Finola and Tristan, somehow sure they could see her shame.
But right now her shame didn’t really matter. Keeping Nick away from Finola was her bigger concern. At the very least, she couldn’t willingly hand Nick over to her boss.
Because Finola’s a demon, she told herself. Not because the idea of Nick being with another woman made her so jealous she could hardly breathe. Definitely not that.
“What else did you learn? Surely something more valuable than what condiments he favors,” Finola said, her irritation with Annie clear, even though she kept her tone light.
Before Annie could think better of it, she nodded. “I did find out a lot, and the truth is, though he’s attractive, I don’t think you’d really be all that interested. He’s very—blue collar.”
“Blue collar?” Finola said, tilting her head as if she’d never heard that term before, and maybe she hadn’t.
Still Annie’s heart pounded painfully in her chest. Fear that she’d said far more than she should made her remain utterly still, awaiting her boss’s potentially lethal reaction.

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