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“I just saw you today. Have you been drinking?” He always tended to ramble, but tonight he wasn’t making any sense.
“Oh, I’ve had a little wine. Just sitting here thinking about you.”
She grimaced and rubbed her temples. “This isn’t a good idea, Doug. You need to move on. Go out with someone else.”
“I don’t want to go out with someone else, Angela. I want you.”
“Please, Doug. Don’t—”
“Don’t try to deny it, Angela. We were perfect together. I felt it, and I know you did, too.”
“No, we weren’t. Don’t make it more than it was. We went out three times. I’m sorry, but I have to insist that you don’t call me again. If I have to, I’ll change my number.”
“Oh, Angie. You don’t want to threaten me. You’re just tired from all your exams. I’ll let you go to sleep. We can make plans later.” He laughed softly. “By the way, I really love you in red pajamas.” He hung up.
Angela frowned at the phone as her brain processed what he’d just said.
Love you in red pajamas.
Oh, God. She looked down at the red silk pajamas she’d put on after her shower—put on right here in the bedroom.
Her blood froze in her veins as the ominous implication of his words sunk in.
Now you’re in bed.
Love you in red.
Her gaze flew to her bedroom window. The blinds and the curtains were closed. There was no way anyone could see in.
She frowned as she looked around the room. Window, closet, bathroom doors, door to living room. There was no way he could possibly see, unless—
The answer that hit her like a slap in the face was inconceivable. It couldn’t be, could it?
“Oh, no,” she moaned. It was the only answer.
“No, no, no.” Her breath caught and her scalp burned with panic.
She wanted to scream. Wanted to vault out of bed and run. But if what she was thinking were true, he was watching her, waiting for that very reaction.
With her skin crawling and her insides knotted with fear, she reached out as quickly and smoothly as she could and felt for the switch on the bedside lamp. It took several tries with her terror-numbed fingers before she turned it off.
With the lamp off, the room was dark, except for the pale light seeping in around the window curtains. She stood on shaky legs, the hairs literally standing up on the back of her neck, and her shoulder muscles cramping.
She felt like someone was right behind her, breathing down her neck, about to grab her.
Moving slowly, as if it would keep her from being seen, she slipped out from under the covers and fled into the living room. For a few seconds, she just stood there in the dark while gigantic shudders shook her body.
Finally, she turned on the overhead light. She’d rather be seen through the balcony doors by half the population of New Orleans than consider what her brain was telling her.
“It can’t be—” she breathed. “Oh, God, what do I do?”
Her brain felt as frozen as her blood. She couldn’t think of anything except the awful implication of Doug’s words. How had he—? Surely he couldn’t have—
Yes. He could.
She had evidence that someone had been inside her apartment. Not to mention her feeling that someone was watching her.
And what he’d said.
“Police!” she said aloud. “I’ve got to call the police.”
Where was her phone? Staring down at her hands, she tried to make her brain work. She didn’t have it. That meant it was still in the bedroom. She’d dropped it, either on her bed or on the floor.
She had to go back in there.
“Oh, God, no. I can’t. He’s watching me!”
ANGLEA WAS IN TROUBLE.
Lucas jerked awake and almost tipped over his chair. He’d dozed off leaning back in it.
“He’s watching me!” Her voice was pitched high with panic. “Got to call the police!”
He blinked and focused on the monitor screen. She was standing in the living room in slinky red pajamas with her hands over her mouth, as if to stop herself from screaming.
Oh crap! She’d found the cameras.
How in hell—? He vaulted up, sending his chair flying across the room, and headed for the door.
He bolted down the stairs four at a time and hit the street door running. He had to get to her before she called the cops.
If the police came and found the cameras, a three-month suspension would be the least of his worries. His career would be over—hell his whole life. Not even Brad’s testimony would keep him from being thrown in prison.
And if Angela hated him before, she’d despise him after this.
He sprinted across the street and up the stairs, digging in his pocket for her key as he ran. With everything else that was about to explode, he sure didn’t want to wake up the whole building by crashing in her door.
He unlocked the door and pushed on it. It barely gave, and he heard the creak of wood scraping across wood.
Damn it! She must have blocked the door with a chair. He pushed as hard as he could against the wooden chair without shattering it.
“Ange!” he called. “Angela, it’s me, Lucas.”
“What—?”
“Let me in, Ange.”
“What’s—what are you doing here—?” Even though she was breathless and choked with fear, she got the chair moved and unlocked the door.
He came bursting in and grabbed her by the arms. “Listen Ange, let me explain—”
“Lucas, what are you—?”
“Calm down. Everything’s going to be okay.”
“Oh, Lucas! Help me!” She pointed toward the bedroom. “He’s watching me. He knew everything. It’s a camera—it’s got to be!”
Lucas cringed, but then what she said sunk in. He’s watching me.
She was pointing toward the bedroom. He didn’t have a camera in her bedroom.
“What? No, not in the bedroom,” he said.
She stared at him. “It is. You have to believe me. He knew I was in bed. Knew what I was wearing. He was—he was—”
She wasn’t making any sense. “Okay, okay.” He pulled her close, to try to soothe her panic. “Shh. Let’s get you calmed down and then we can figure out what to do.”
“No, you have to call the police. My phone’s in there. I couldn’t go back in there—I couldn’t.”
“I know, sugar, I know.” He slid his palm up her back and cradled her head. Her warm breath stuttered against his neck as her arms slipped around his waist. For a second, he was lost in the sensation of her soft, firm body pressed against him.
Then she pulled away. “Police,” she muttered. “We’ve got to call the police.”
Lucas forced his brain back to his problem. He needed a couple of minutes to think. To figure out why she thought there was a camera in her bedroom. And he needed to get her terror under control—fast.
“Come on,” he said gently, leading her to the kitchen. “Let’s get you a glass of water. Sit down.” He quickly fixed a glass of ice water and handed it to her.
He watched while she drank it. Her pale cheeks had regained a little bit of color by the time she’d downed about half of it.
“That’s good.” He sat on his haunches in front of her. “Now tell me why you think there’s a camera in your bedroom, and who you think put it there.”
She choked a little on the water and coughed.
“Shh. It’s okay. Take your time. Is the bedroom camera the only one you’ve found?” Some protector he was. She was terrified and his first thought was to cover his ass. He held his breath, waiting for her to answer.
“The only one? Oh, my God. Do you think there are more?”
“No.” He took the glass and set it on the table, then held her hands in his. “No. Shh. I was just checking. You said he called you. Who?”
“Doug Ramis. He called me and he knew I was in bed. And then he said he liked me in red pajamas.” Her cheeks lost color again. “He could see me, Lucas! He could see me. How else would he know? Please! Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me he couldn’t see me. I can’t believe anybody would do that. It’s so perverted.” She shuddered again.
Lucas couldn’t quite sort out what she was talking about, but he did hear her say, “It’s so perverted.”
She was going to despise him. “Who’s Doug Ramis?”
“I dated him a few times. Three. Three times. He thinks we’re—” she gestured aimlessly “—soul mates or something.”
Could he be the bland guy who’d been hanging around her building? Lucas made a mental note to show her a photo of him.
“Maybe he’s seen your pajamas before? Maybe he was just guessing?”
“No! No. Of course he hasn’t seen my pajamas.” For an instant, indignation overcame her panic. “He couldn’t have just guessed. He. Saw. Me.“
“Okay, shh. Here. Finish your water.” He handed the glass back to her, then looked toward the bedroom. “You turned the light off?”
She nodded. “So he couldn’t see me.” A brittle laugh escaped her lips. “You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”
“No. I’m going to get your phone. You said it’s in there?”
She nodded. “I dropped it on the bed.”
“Do you have any idea where the camera might be?”
“No.” She shuddered. “I never thought about where it was.”
“That’s okay. Wait right here.” He rose and started toward the bedroom.
“Lucas?”
“Yeah?”
“How—how did you show up just in time?”
That took longer than he thought it would. She was too smart. He put on a grin. “Hey, sugar. That’s what knights in shining armor do, right?”
His lame joke didn’t earn him a smile. Her chocolate eyes went wide and something he couldn’t identify shone from their depths.
He went into the bedroom and closed the door, shutting out the light from the living room. He wished he had an infrared light, so he could see without being seen through the camera. But he didn’t, so he stood still until his eyes adapted to the darkness. He wasn’t about to turn on the light and risk the guy seeing him.
He felt around in her bed for her phone. To his body’s delight and his brain’s dismay, the sheets were still warm from her heat. He took a deep breath, hoping to tamp down his body’s automatic response. But he only succeeded in filling his nose with the scent of chocolate. He shook his head. That had to be his imagination.
His fingers closed around the phone and he pocketed it. Staying low, he swept the room with his gaze. If there was a camera, it would be positioned on the wall opposite the bathroom. At least that’s where he’d mount it.
It was damned hard to see with only the dim light from the curtained windows, but he scrutinized the chest of drawers and dresser that sat against the wall.
A decorative clock hung on the wall above the chest. He looked from it to her bed to the bathroom door. That would be his choice for the best vantage point. He carefully took it down and opened the back.
And there it was. Lucas stared at the familiar shape. It was state of the art, almost as sophisticated as the ones Dawson had loaned him. He didn’t see a microphone. So it was visual only.
Anger hit him like a hot blast of wind. The slimy skunk who was spying on her deserved to spend the rest of his life in prison for stalking. Quelling his urge to smash the clock and the camera inside it against the wall, he pried the camera loose and lifted it out using his handkerchief. He made sure the clock still worked and then repositioned it on the wall.
“Try to spy on her now, you bastard!” he muttered as he pocketed the camera and headed back into the living room.
“Did you find it?” She met his gaze. “You did!” Her hands covered her mouth again. “There really was a camera.”
Lucas wiped a hand down his face. “This Doug guy—that’s who you were talking about, isn’t it?”
“Talking about?”
