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“You’d better call an attorney, Bently,” Zane suggested, his voice filled with loathing. “A good one. You’re up to your neck in this, and the police are bound to show up any minute. I gave them a full report.” He reached across the desk and grabbed Kaylie’s hand. “Let’s get out of here.”
She picked up her purse from habit, but her entire world seemed to be turned upside down. Alan? A man she’d worked with forever had used her, betrayed her, felt so little concern for her life? Lord, how had she been so blind?
“Kaylie,” Alan said, his features set and grim. His voice broke. “I—I’m sorry. I never—”
“So am I,” she managed to say as she let Zane guide her out of the television station. The police were already in the reception area, two squad cars parked outside, four officers charging through the connecting room.
News cameras, some from the station itself, others from rivals, whirred, and reporters were already gathering information for their nightly reports.
Microphones were thrust at Kaylie, and cameras chased them as Zane and Kaylie, arms linked, dashed across the parking lot.
“Ms. Melville—can you give us some insight on the reports that Alan Bently was involved in Lee Johnston’s escape?”
Kaylie refused to answer that one.
“How do you feel—”
Zane spun around. “No comment,” he growled, glaring at the reporters.
“Mr. Flannery—you’re Ms. Melville’s husband and—”
“Right now I’m her bodyguard,” he clarified, his face thrust within bare inches of the slim man who was wielding his microphone like some jousting lance. “And, if you don’t want me to get physical, you’d better back off!”
With that, he turned, helped Kaylie into the Jeep and climbed behind the wheel. He roared off, leaving the cameras still whirring.
“My bodyguard?” Kaylie repeated, sagging against the seat and lolling her head back as she looked at her husband. “Oh, boy, I can hardly wait. ‘Talk-show hostess demotes husband to bodyguard. Film at eleven.’”
“That little jerk deserved it,” Zane insisted, cranking on the wheel hard to round a corner.
“I work with that ‘little jerk.’”
“You have my sympathy.”
“My bodyguard?” she asked again, chuckling at the ludicrous title.
“That’s right. Your bodyguard, your husband, your lover, your spouse, your fantasy and hopefully the father of your unborn children!”
He touched her hand, and tears blurred her vision. Yes, Zane was all of the above, and much, much more. He was her life. “I should wring your neck,” she whispered without much conviction.
“I think you can be more imaginative than that,” he said, slanting her a sexy grin. “My body parts are willingly at your disposal….”
“You know what I mean,” she replied, unable to smother a smile. “You’re supposed to be letting me live my life.”
“I just don’t like to leave any loose ends dangling.” Downshifting, he wheeled into the parking lot of their apartment building. “‘Ted’ was a loose end. The call to the police was a loose end. Those Insider lies about your relationship with Alan were loose ends!”
They rode up the elevator together, and Franklin, whining, greeted them. While Zane took the shepherd for a short walk, Kaylie dug through the pantry and found a bottle of champagne they’d never opened—the bottle from the chapel where they were married.
She should be furious with him, she supposed, but she wasn’t. In fact, she liked the fact that he’d wrapped up all the loose ends. He hadn’t stopped her from working, hadn’t even objected when she’d mentioned that she might consider another movie. He was trying…and so was she.
She popped open the champagne and poured two glasses. Then, on a whim, she poured a little bit into a bowl. When Zane and Franklin returned, she set the bowl on the floor for the dog and handed Zane a glass.
“What’s this?” he asked, but his gray eyes glinted.
“A celebration.”
“Of what?”
“Kaylie Flannery’s new independence.” Without any more ado, Franklin began lapping from his bowl.
