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“Would you have stormed in and saved me?”
She shook her head. “Nope. I probably would’ve walked away, thinking you were getting exactly what you deserved.”
He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her over to his chair to sit on his lap. “Evil woman.”
“Wicked man.”
They kissed, long and sweet and wet, as if they hadn’t just made love in his bed that morning. When their lips parted, Caroline rested her head on his shoulder. “Back to the point. If she dropped it, who do you think might have found it?”
He thought about it. “Tons of people came in and out of the office that week. People from the show looking for rooms, a developer I’ve been working with. Friends. My mom. Sophie.”
He stiffened, unable to help it when he thought of the rumors he’d overheard about his kid sister.
“What?” she asked.
He quickly explained the latest speculation on the murderer, not even trying to keep the anger and frustration from his voice.
“That’s ridiculous,” she said with a disgusted frown.
“Of course, it is.”
Then she shivered slightly in his arms. “I still can’t believe Sophie’s R. F. Colt. Those books scare the pants off me.”
He responded with a lascivious lift of his brows. “Oh?”
“Don’t get any ideas. We’re in your office, remember.”
“Mmm, office sex. My desk is awfully strong.”
“Your front door is awfully unlocked, and your assistant is right out in the reception area.”
Too bad. Making love with Caroline was probably just about the only thing that could distract him from Sophie’s situation.
He still couldn’t believe that someone—anyone—could think his kid sister capable of murder. Sophie had been the town sweetheart last week. The nicest, gentlest, friendliest girl from the most respected family in town. And now the piranhas were calling her a murderer, just because they found out she had an imagination and writing talent. “It’s so damned unfair.”
She gave him a sympathetic look. “Sophie?”
He nodded. “So, she had a fight with Miss Hester and happens to write horror fiction. There’s no evidence, no real motive, nothing. But the rumor mill has already convicted her.”
He didn’t say it aloud, but the idea of being judged and found immediately guilty made him think of his past with Caroline.
“If everyone who fantasized about killing their boss was accused of murder, a lot of us would be in jail right now,” Caroline said. “Heaven knows I’ve been tempted. Especially today, with the pressure.”
Her voice had softened, and she looked away, not meeting his eyes anymore. He had the feeling he wasn’t going to like whatever she was about to tell him.
“Pressure?”
She nodded, then got up from his lap. In a stall for time, she wandered over to his desk, straightening some papers, putting a few scattered pens into a cup.
“Tell me.”
She turned and leaned her hip against the desk, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “They’re elated about the murder.”
He shook his head. “Nice.”
“Not that somebody’s dead, of course, but my God, you should hear the execs and Renauld. They’re already filming new commercials tying the real murder into the show. The TV tabloids are scheduling on-location interviews and the debut is going to be a two-hour special, instead of one.”
“In other words,” he said with a distinct frown, “they’re going to capitalize on somebody’s murder.”
