Page 42 of Drop Dead Gorgeous

“I like the hissy fits way better than you looking at me like I’ve slapped you,” he said. “Now listen up.”

I wasn’t in any mood to “listen up.” I stalked into the living room and sat down in one of the chairs, so he couldn’t sit beside me.

He put the phone on the coffee table and leaned over me, bracing his hands on the chair arms and pinning me in. His gaze was hard and glittering. “Blair, youwilllisten to me. I sincerely, deeply apologize. You’re a lot of things, but paranoid isn’t one of them. I should have listened and put the pieces together.”

I pressed my lips together, waiting for the comment that, if he’d had all the pieces, he might have come to that conclusion earlier. He didn’t make it; he doesn’t feel the need to state the obvious, as I often do.

“That said,” he continued, “there’s a strong possibility this nutcase has been watching your condo. How else could she know you were alone last night? We’re usually together.”

“I didn’t see any strange cars when I got home.”

“Do you know what everyone in these condos drives? I didn’t think so. If she’d made any threats I wouldn’t leave you alone, but she’s stopped short of that.”

“You don’t think trying to run me down is a threat?”

“That person was driving a beige Buick, not a white Chevrolet. I’m not completely discounting it as part of the pattern, but it’s entirely possible that was a stand-alone incident, and until proof surfaces that the driver of the Buick is also the driver of the Chevrolet, it’ll be treated as stand-alone. These harassing phone calls are Class-Two misdemeanors, and if I can find out who’s making the calls then you can press charges, but until then—”

“What you’re saying is that this doesn’t appear serious enough to warrant a great deal of police attention.”

“You’re getting a great deal ofmyattention,” he said. “I’m not taking this lightly. I want you to pack your things and go home with me. There’s no reason why you should be harassed and annoyed when you don’t have to be.”

“I can also just have my phone number changed, and get it unlisted,” I pointed out.

“You’re moving anyway, when we get married. Why not do it now?”

Because I wasn’t certain we’d be getting married.His apology about the woman following me and my supposed paranoia was gratifying, but didn’t address our larger issues. “Because,” I said. There. Short and to the point.

He straightened, looking incredibly annoyed, considering I was the injured party here.

For a minute I thought he would press the point, but instead he decided against an argument and changed subjects. “I’m taking your phone in to the department, letting one of our techno geeks see if he can do anything with that recording, maybe pull out some background sounds or enhance the voice. Don’t answer the phone unless I’m the one calling. In fact, turn on your cell phone; I’ll call it instead. If anyone comes visiting, don’t answer the door; call nine-one-one instead. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“There’s a strong chance no one is watching you at any given time, just doing drive-bys to see if your car is here and if my truck is here, so I’m taking your car, and leaving my truck parked out front.”

“How would she know you’re involved with me at all if she isn’t literally watching me?”

“If she knows where you work, then she’s seen my truck parked at Great Bods on the nights when you’re closing. It’s a distinctive vehicle. She could easily have followed both of us here one night.”

Something occurred to me and I gasped. “She’s the one who keyed my car!”

“Probably.” The readiness with which he agreed told me he’d already thought of that.

“That’s vandalism! I hope that at least raises this to a Class A misdemeanor.” I was a bit disgruntled at being a Class B, or whatever.

“Class-One misdemeanor,” he corrected. “And, yes, it does.Ifthis person actually did the damage, or had it done.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” I said impatiently. “Innocent until proven guilty, and all that crap. My ass.”

He gave a brief laugh and bent to retrieve the phone from the coffee table. “I’m impressed by your sense of justice. And I love your ass.”

Actually, I already knew that.

We swapped keys, or rather Wyatt did; I simply gave him my extra key to the Mercedes, which wasn’t on a key ring, while he had to take the key to the Avalanche off his ring because his extra, of course, was at his house. I had once pointed out that having the extra at home did him no good if he lost his keys, to which he had smugly replied that he didn’t lose his keys.

“I relocked the front door when I came in,” he said as he let himself out the side door, into the portico. “Don’t forget to set the alarm.”

“I won’t.”

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