Page 52 of Putting Out
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The sound of the car engine interrupted his watch. He lowered the night-vision goggles to his eyes and followed the car as it pulled up next to the side of the house.
A man got out and walked confidently up the porch steps. He used the hidden key above the door sill. It was an easy key to find. He had found it, too, but the easy action revealed the identity of the man.
It was Luke Nolan. The enemy.
He made it a point to know everyone in Reilly’s life and after seeing her that night at the window, he had to know the name of the man. That’s what love was about. It was about playing it smart and making the right moves. About knowing the identity of her friends and family, her passions and her hobbies, so when they were together, finally, he would already know everything about her. Every facet of her life.
She would love him for it.
As far as Nolan went, he would be dealt with later. Truly, the golfer was insignificant to his plans. Once they were together she would forget Nolan, his name, his very existence. Their love would blot out all that had gone before and it would sustain her. For the rest of her life.
If only he could act now, but the attention on her was so extreme it would be foolish to make a move. So many eyes watching.
She shouldn’t have decided to play in the stupid tournament. He’d written to her to tell her she should drop out, but he didn’t know if his letters were making enough of an impact.
He’d called her, too. Though that might have been a mistake. He didn’t want to come across like he was crazy. He wasn’t. He wanted to be her friend first. Bond with her naturally over time. Of course he’d altered his voice, it was the smart thing to do, but knowing she’d heard his words was important to him.
It connected them.
No, there had to be a way to stop her from going to the tournament. Something that would keep her here. Then whenever everyone left, he could make his move. Something not obvious, something that wouldn’t call attention to him. He pounded his head in a burst of frustration. “Think. You’re smart! Think.”
Suddenly, a sound to his right caught his attention. He crouched low behind the thicket he’d used for cover for the last few days, the frozen pond at his back so no one could sneak up behind him. Out there among the fields to his right he saw a shift. A rustle in the dry grass. He used the goggles once more to his advantage and discovered he wasn’t alone.
* * *
Early-morning raysof sun pierced through the windows of the barn. Reilly couldn’t remember the last time she’d been up this early since leaving home.
She also couldn’t remember when she’d been in this much pain.
“Ninety-six, ninety-seven, ninety-eight…One hundred.” Reilly let her breath out as her legs dropped to the floor and her arms flopped over her head.
Pierce stood over her with a stern expression on his beautiful face. It only made him look prettier. “You missed ninety-nine.”
“Haven’t you heard? Ninety-nine is a bad-luck number. No one counts that.”
“That is definitely a new one.”
“Clearly, you haven’t been in the reshaping business that long. Did Odie check your references?”
Reilly huffed as she struggled to get back to a sitting position, and failed.
Pierce shook his head. “I’ll let you off the hook for creativity. Now stretch, knees to the right, arms to the left.”
Moving over her, Pierce helped to push her knees to the floor, getting the most out of the stretch to her abdominal muscles. She groaned deliciously as her muscles unclenched.
“So do you reshape normal folks, too, or just athletes?”
Pierce pulled her legs to the other side and moved her arms across her body.
“Normal rich people sure, but mostly I sort of have a thing for athletes. Especially good ones. I called Odie right after you made your announcement and made my services available. At cost, no less.”
Reilly looked up into his perfectly sculpted face and his deep blue eyes and melted a little. The fact that he was wearing a spandex, short-sleeve top emphasizing his pecs didn’t hurt, either. It was freezing outside, but portable heaters kept the barn toasty for workouts. Pierce always wore a nice sheen of sweat along his neck that made Reilly want to lick it. She might have tried if she thought he wouldn’t be completely skeeved by the idea.
“A thing for athletes, huh? You know, Pierce, if you were suddenly overcome with lust and wanted to take advantage of me on this mat I wouldn’t necessarily complain.”
He wiggled his eyebrows, but then his expression got serious.
