Page 59 of Hot to Trot

“Go ahead. Punch me. We can add a lawsuit to the story of you bopping the vampire queen."

Adam uncurled his fist and stepped back. “You’re not worth the trouble. Go before I teach you a lesson in manners."

Miller picked up the camera that had fallen near the tire, then opened the car door. "You know, you should be more worried about that creepy dude who's been following Scarlet around."

"What creepy dude?"

"The old dude who got the book tossed out."

"Harvey Primm?"

Adam had seen Harvey hold fast to a grudge, something that usually resulted in the offending person ending up in his sham of a paper. But stalking seemed extreme, even for him. Of course, Scarlet had injured his pride and embarrassed him in the national news.

Miller climbed into the car and cranked the engine. "Yeah, that's the dude. I saw him earlier. He's freaky. Me? You got nothing to worry about. I take a pic and then I'm gone."

"So go," Adam said.

Miller drove away, leaving Adam to mull over what he'd learned. Harvey's visit to the station to complain about Scarlet following him hadn't set right with Adam, but he hadn't given it any more thought. So why was Harvey spying on Scarlet? Had he become obsessed with her? Or was it something more dangerous? Some kind of revenge because she had embarrassed him?

Adam walked to the cruiser, taking a moment to look hard at the landscape around him. Phoenix sat miles outside Oak Stand. The nearest house was Cottonwood, an estate owned by Rick's father-in-law. In fact, the land the rehab center sat upon had been part of Justus Mitchell's vast property before Justus deeded it to the foundation for which Rick and Kate served asdirectors. They lived in a smaller rustic cottage that sat adjacent to the center, but no one else lived within miles of the place. The only consolation Adam could find in the situation was that Scarlet's class contained six street-savvy, tough gang members who wouldn't hesitate to protect their acting coach.

Suddenly he was very glad he'd decided to be a part of their production. Acting had never interested him, but the insinuation that he didn't need to participate had him throwing his hat into the ring. Adam hated being told he couldn't do something.

Which was how he had ended up a police officer in the first place.

Years ago over breakfast with his parents, he'd mentioned law enforcement as a possible career. He'd been fresh out of college and without any direction career-wise.

"Absolutely not," his mother had said, spearing a grape with her fruit fork. "I won't have a son who is a police officer. Can you imagine, Hal?"

She'd saidpolice officeras if being an enforcer of the law was cousin to the crap she scraped from her mare's hoof when she came in from riding.

His father had smiled. "Not a bad way to earn a living, son, but you really don't need to earn a living, now do you? I thought we'd agreed upon law school."

Adam shoved his empty plate away. Martha immediately cleared it and refilled his coffee cup before his father waved her away from the terrace where they often had breakfast on Sunday mornings. "That will be all, Martha. Have Thomas bring the car around in forty minutes. We'll be attending church this morning."

The maid nodded, then melted away inside the house.

"I don't want to go to law school," Adam said.

"Hinton men always go to law school, darling," his mother said. "Then you could get your MBAas your father has done.Very useful for when you take over the companies. Your father can't very well work forever."

"Who said I was taking over?" Adam asked, raising his voice. Having finished his undergrad at Texas A&M University, he had no intention of applying for law school. He wanted to get a regular job. Be a regular guy. He wanted to take scissors to his custom-made suits, slice the designer moniker off all his golf shirts, toss the keys to his Benz in the ornamental fountain filled with Japanese carp.

His father frowned. "You want to sow some oats? Fine. Go to Europe for the summer. Backpack and do whatever it is your friends do. When you come home, you'll be ready to start. I've already sent your application in to Tulane, Stanford, and Harvard. I even sent one to Rice for the MBA program."

Adam shoved his chair back and stood. "I don't want to go to Europe, I don't want to go to law school, and don't want to live here any longer."

"Darling," his mother said in the same syrupy voice she'd used on his father for years. The voice that accepted the way her life was, the voice that forgave the incessantly philandering husband as easily as it forgave the maid who'd burned a hole in her favorite designer suit. Placating, accepting... whiny. "You can't be serious. A police officer? Really, what-"

"Would the ladies at the club say?" Adam finished for her. "Maybe they would say I got a clue. That I broke away from this farce of a life. That I did something that I wanted to do for once in my pitiful existence."

His father's eyes grew cold. "If you go to the police academy, you will be cut off without a dime. Think hard about it, son."

Adam threw down his hundred-dollar linen napkin. "I have. I'm leaving for the academy on Monday. And I don't need your money. I have a trust fund Grandfather was smart enough to give me control over when I turned twenty-two last year. Ican live comfortably off the interest." He'd stalked away, nearly knocking poor Martha down on the way to his room to pack.

No one told him what to do. No one.

Ten years later, and that outlook still held true.

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