Page 18 of The Pretender

“Sounds like a good call.” Harris planned to ignore most of what Stephen said, too.

“Then the kidnapping happened and my uncle never looked back. He tagged me as a threat to the family. He watched me as if he was waiting for me to rip the family apart.”

Questions bombarded Harris. That piece of the puzzle didn’t fit with the woman in front of him now. Faking her own kidnapping for cash? It was so mercenary. So desperate when nothing about the way she lived from the small studio apartment to the entry-level job suggested she insisted on an entitlement to a lush lifestyle.

He went with the safest question. “Wasn’t that a decade ago?”

“More than that. I was nineteen. I’m thirty now.”

That was it. She didn’t offer up another fact. Didn’t provide any glimpse into what happened then or why.

He weighed his options and decided knowing more about what really happened back then could wait. Building the bond with her about Tabitha’s death and her uncle’s revenge was the better call. “The man can hold a grudge.”

“Don’t make me into a martyr, Harris. My uncle was right about some of it. I wasn’t the perfect child.”

“Something else we have in common.” Since she sounded so beaten down, he tried for a little humor. “Clearly we should sleep together.”

The comment sat there. Neither of them laughed. The idea suddenly didn’t strike him as funny.

She slowly lifted her head. “I think you’re skipping a few steps in getting to know each other.”

She didn’t say no.

Sweet Jesus, he needed her to say no.

“You in the bed. Me on the floor.” He forced out the last part. “No touching.”

She sat up and the color returned to her cheeks. Not a blush, but the deathly paleness disappeared. “You don’t mix business with pleasure?”

Every word she said tempted him. That high road was starting to get pretty damn steep. No wonder he usually didn’t take it.

“Are you familiar with the concept of mixed messages?” he asked.

“Sorry.” She smiled as she shook her head. “I’m tired and emotionally wrung out.”

There, now she’d said the phrase guaranteed to stop any action tonight. He might act like an ass sometimes but he was not taking advantage of her. Not like this.

He shifted her legs off his lap and stood up. With his hand extended down to her, he closed this out for the night. “Then let’s go to bed.”

Her gaze shifted from his hand to his face. It traveled to his mouth and hesitated there before she nodded and took his hand. “You wore me down.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

She slipped her fingers through his and stood up next to him. “Be warned. If you try to crawl in with me, I’ll kick you.”

“You’d be surprised how often I hear that.”

“That’s sort of the point, Harris.” She squeezed his fingers before letting go of his hand. “I bet you never do, so hear it now.”

All the touching earlier made her jumpy. An hour had passed since she climbed into the bed at the guesthouse—alone. She’d stared at the ceiling for almost every minute of that time.

The guesthouse consisted of a large open space for the living room and kitchen and separate rooms for the bedroom and bathroom. She took the bed without arguing and settled in, wearing sweatpants and a long-sleeve T-shirt under the covers. Her sweater hung on the back of the chair by the bed. She looked at it, debating if this was the right time to put it on and step outside.

The investigator would arrive tomorrow but Harris was right there. Not even a door separated them. She’d left that open and could see his head on the pillow on the floor. He hadn’t moved for a half hour. Even now the sound of his deep breathing floated through the house. Not snoring. No, this was an oddly comforting in and out. Almost like white noise.

Careful not to bang the headboard against the wall or step on the wrong loose floorboard, she shifted and put her feet on the thick area rug. Pointing her toe, she stretched out, snagged her sneaker from a few feet away and dragged it closer. Without taking her gaze off Harris, she slipped on her shoes, one after the other.

The mattress coils creaked as she grabbed for her sweater. A few tugs and it was on. Her outfit wouldn’t protect her against the cool night air, but if she was very quick—did a fast in and out—she might be able to resolve at least this one task she came to the island to do.

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