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If not for Zane, she might have died that night.
But Zane turned paranoid on her. Even though Johnston was locked up and the letters no longer made their way to her mailbox, Zane installed bigger and better security systems and used his best men to constantly patrol their home.
The marriage dissolved in its prison, and Kaylie had no option but to file for divorce.
At first he fought it. And he even tried to change. But he couldn’t, and she doubted that he ever would. Even now, after seven years, he was still trying to run her life. Like Don Quixote fighting windmills, Zane was still grappling with the ghost of Lee Johnston.
And so was she.
Now, staring at the sunlight streaming over the mountains, Kaylie tossed off the old quilt. Today she’d talk some sense into him—today when she wasn’t tipsy, when she was rational and calm.
She’d find a way to convince him that they couldn’t stay up here alone together. Her heart couldn’t take it.
Chapter Five
It was time to take the offensive, Kaylie decided when she heard him rattling around downstairs. With renewed determination, she swept down the stairs and into the kitchen to find him seated on a bar stool, one booted foot propped on the bracing of the matching stool as he lazily flipped through the pages of a magazine.
“’Morning,” he drawled with maddening calm. “Sleep okay?”
“As a matter of fact I didn’t sleep much at all,” she said, irritated, struggling to remain calm and rational. “So you’ve enjoyed your little joke,” she said, shivering in her wrinkled sundress. “Now, let’s get back to the real world.”
Motioning around him, he said, “This, Lady Melville, is the real world.”
“I can’t stay here, Zane, even if I wanted to,” she said, hoping to sound logical. “What do you think is going to happen when I don’t show up on the set?”
He shoved the magazine aside. “Not much.”
“Not much?” she repeated, hardly believing her ears but his expression didn’t change. She glanced pointedly at her watch. “We have exactly forty-five minutes to get to the city.”
“We won’t make it,” he said, climbing off his stool long enough to pour two cups of coffee. “Even if we wanted to.”
“We do want to.”
“Correction. You want to.” He handed her one of the cups and took an experimental sip from his. “Careful. It’s hot.”
Kaylie’s temper soared. “And I have no say in the matter—right? All my citizen’s rights have been stripped since you brought me here to this…this prison! Well, I’m warning you, when my producer figures out that I’ve been kidnapped, there’ll be hell to pay!”
He looked maddeningly unconcerned. “Relax. He won’t guess.”
“But when he calls—”
“He’ll get your answering machine.”
“Not good enough, Zane,” she said, crossing the room and glaring straight into his eyes. For an instant, a flicker of pain crossed those gray irises, and Kaylie thought there was hope. He wasn’t as immune to her feelings as he’d like to pretend.
“Crowley won’t call.”
“Of course he’ll ca—” she started to say, but stopped short. Obviously Zane had taken steps to prevent anything from going wrong with this ridiculous plan of his! Of course! Fury caused her heart to surge wildly. “What’d you do, Zane?” she demanded. “I mean besides becoming a major criminal now wanted by the FBI. What else did you do?”
“I made sure that you wouldn’t be missed.” He settled back on his bar stool and propped his elbows on the counter, eyeing her over the rim of his cup.
Now she was worried. “How?”
“By making the appropriate calls.”
“What calls?”
“To the station.”
