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“Not to worry. Margot explained everything.”
Not quite everything. In Kaylie’s estimation, Margot had a lot of questions to answer.
“We’ve missed you around here,” Jim joked good-naturedly. “The show just hasn’t been the same without you. And we’ve been getting a lot of calls. People wondering how you and your aunt are doing. You might have to bring it up on the show tomorrow. Viewers really get off on all that personal stuff.”
The thought of lying on the air curled Kaylie’s stomach. But Jim was right. “About those calls,” Kaylie asked. “Did I get any from a guy named Ted?”
“I don’t think so. What is it with that guy? Someone else called about him. Tracy took the call.” She heard a muffled noise as Jim placed his hand over the receiver and talked to his assistant. “She says that a guy named Hastings called—a guy who works for your ex. Is something going on?”
“Just a crank call,” Kaylie said, quickly explaining to Jim about the threats, though he didn’t seem overly concerned when she explained that Lee Johnston was still locked up.
“Another nut. I tell ya, this town is full of ’em,” Jim said before the conversation ended.
She hung up the phone, grabbed her jacket and purse and headed out the door.
* * *
The offices of Flannery Security were located on the fifth floor of a building not far from the waterfront. Bracing herself, Kaylie pushed open glass doors and recognized the receptionist. Peggy Wagner was a plump woman, somewhere near fifty, with tight gray curls and wirerimmed glasses. Peggy had worked for Zane forever.
“Mrs. Flannery!” Peggy cried, a smile gracing her soft features as she glanced up from her word processor. “Are you here to see Mr.—”
“Hastings. The executive vice president,” Kaylie replied, hoping that the couple waiting on a low-slung couch in the reception area hadn’t overheard. Peggy never had been able to use Kaylie’s maiden name. Apparently she still thought of Kaylie as Zane’s wife.
“You’re in luck. He’s in,” Peggy said, flipping a switch on an intercom and announcing Kaylie. “I’ll walk you back.” She ripped off her headgear and motioned to another woman at a nearby desk. “I’ll be right back,” she said, then guided Kaylie through a labyrinth of corridors.
At the end of one hall, Peggy knocked, then opened a door to a small office. The floor was hardwood, the desk oak and the rest of the furniture was expensive and neat, but far from opulent.
Peggy motioned to a pair of leather couches. “Just have a seat and he’ll be with you in a moment. Would you like anything while you wait? Coffee or tea?”
“I’m fine,” Kaylie replied, wishing Hastings would suddenly appear so she could explain how he could find Zane, then get out.
Peggy crossed the room again. “It’ll just be a little while,” she assured Kaylie as she closed the doors behind her.
Kaylie, rather than sit anxiously twiddling her thumbs, walked to the windows and stared through the glass to the city beyond. Skyscrapers knifed upward against a hazy blue sky, and a jet circled over the bay. Below, traffic twisted and pedestrians bustled along sidewalks.
The door clicked softly behind her.
Finally! Grinning to herself, Kaylie reached into her purse for Zane’s keys. “I’m so glad you could see me,” she said, turning, only to wish she could drop through the floor.
Zane was locking the door behind him.
Her heart slammed against her ribs as she stood face-to-face with him. The keys fell from her hand, and her mouth went suddenly bone-dry.
“Me, too,” he replied with more
than a trace of sarcasm. His expression was dark and murderous, and every exposed muscle contracted tightly. His eyes were the cold gray of the barrel of a gun, and his lips were razor thin. He looked dangerous and coiled—like a whip ready to crack.
Kaylie gulped, but stood her ground.
“Surprised?”
“I think the word is thunderstruck,” she said, hoping to make light of the tension crackling through the room.
“Well, I’ve got to hand it to you, Kaylie. You fooled me.” His jaw slid to one side, and he shot her a glance from the corner of his eye. “I thought we were making progress, but you decided to take one last gamble. And it worked. Almost.” He tossed his leather jacket into his chair and shoved the sleeves of his blue sweater up his forearms. His hair was still wind-tossed and wild, and his pallor had darkened with the quietly repressed fury burning in his gaze. “I guess I should offer you a job. You’re the only person who’s been able to pull one over on me in a long while.”
Slowly he advanced upon her. “You lifted my keys, then stole my car—”
“I warned you, Zane,” she said, refusing to back up, though she wanted to retreat desperately.
