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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.
Chapter Thirteen
So, how many of your neighbors are pissed off at you for not selling?” Hank's disembodied voice filtered through the closed bathroom door in Beth's hotel room.
She wrapped the blow dryer's twisted cord around its handle and stuffed it into the basket under the sink. “Most, but I can't imagine any of them are behind this.” No, the worst she'd gotten were a few dirty looks and snide comments whispered behind her back.
