CLOSE TO YOU: Enhanced (Lost Hearts) (18 page)

"Sanders." George dismissed Sanders without a qualm. "But she arrived with Ramos in tow, too. Why?"

             
"She . . . oh, it's not what you think." Brad chuckled.

             
George didn't join him.

             
Brad got serious in a hurry "What I'm trying to say is—she's got a stalker. Ramos is her bodyguard."

             
"A stalker." George's gaze drilled into Brad's. "What do you mean, a stalker?"

             
"Did you see the, um, cut on her chin? She's got bruises all over. She's had her tire slashed and some more vandalism, and someone in a car tried to run her over." Perspiration beaded on Brad's forehead. "Yes, sir, it's definitely a stalker."

             
George backed Brad toward the corner beside the floor-to-ceiling fireplace. "And you didn't inform me?" After the strings he'd pulled to get her hired?

             
"I got her the best bodyguard in town, sir, and gave them a reason to be together. She's doing a story on him." Brad beamed with anticipation. "It's a great trade-off."

             
"I don't want a trade-off, I want her to be safe."

             
"Ramos doesn't lose clients, sir."

             
"Right." Ramos didn't. George knew that.

             
"And I've got a responsibility to the stockholders of KTTV to make a profit."

             
Brad was right there, too. He wouldn't do George any good if he got fired. "All right. Keep me updated. I want to know who this scum is."

             
"The one who's stalking Kate?" Brad sounded smart, smug, almost as if he were laughing at George.

             
With venial intent, George stared at Brad.

             
Brad stopped smiling. "Yes, sir. The one who's stalking Kate."

             
George caught Ramos watching the scene with amusement, pity . . . and interest. George didn't need Ramos sticking his nose into his business. Ramos had a reputation for being inquisitive and thorough, and maybe he wanted to bang Kate, but that didn't lessen George's interest in her. Quite the opposite. This was his chance. His last chance.

             
Things were going to be different this time.

TEN

             
Teague stood against the wall, watching the action at the party, and thought that Oberlin must be the biggest fish in the pond.

             
The police chief was there. So was the county sheriff. So were Texas Supreme Court judges.

             
Senators gathered in the corner and spoke in whispers.

             
Worst of all, Dean Sanders was headed his way, champagne glass in hand, a hearty smile on his lips.

             
Teague muffled a groan. Okay. So Kate was afraid of the passion between them. So she'd brought in a decoy. But did it have to be open-faced, genial, unsuspecting Dean Sanders with his upper-crust Texas background, his position in a posh law firm, and his weekend job providing free legal assistance to female immigrants who were being abused by their husbands? Teague should have hated him, but it was impossible to hate Dean. Teague could see meeting him for a beer at the sports bar and watching a game. Dean was one of those rare, genuinely nice guys.

             
"Hey, Teague, you're looking dry. Do you want a drink?" Dean waved his champagne glass.

             
"No, thanks. Not while I'm working."

             
"Oh. Right. Right." Dean glanced around guiltily. "I forgot. You're working."

             
"Yes." Teague folded his arms behind his back, doing a good imitation of hired muscle.

             
"I shouldn't drink, either. I've got to drive home." Dean put his half-filled glass onto a passing tray. "Do you think Kate could ride with me?"

             
Drive Kate home? Not a chance. "I'd prefer if she rode with me." The expression on Dean's face made Teague add, "But we'll follow you to your house first."

             
Dean squared his shoulders. "Do you really not care if Kate dates someone else?"

             
"Kate Montgomery is a job." Teague's gaze sought her in the crowd, and when he didn't find her, he moved until she was visible. He'd always been able to protect the client and at the same time take care of himself and his social life. But here, with Kate, the only social life that interested him was one
with
Kate. She moved like a red silk flame, and, if he didn't know better, he would say she wore no underwear beneath the gown. He did know better. Damn it. That spangle in her dark curly hair caught the light and sparkled almost as brightly as her blue eyes, and those diamonds in her ears called attention to her long neck . . . and that made him want to kiss her right under the jaw and work his way downward. . . .

             
She seemed oblivious to him.

             
"She really is great, but she's not paying much attention to me." Dean quickly added, "Not that I'm complaining, but usually a first date involves a little more face-to-face time."

             
So she was oblivious to Dean, too.

             
Yet jealousy clawed at Teague's gut. She smiled with shy eagerness, talked with genuine interest, shone with inner beauty. He wanted all that eagerness, that interest, that beauty focused on him.

             
"She's doing the groundwork that might pan out into a story." And why the hell was Teague comforting Kate's date?

             
"Of course she is. I should have realized that." Dean took a glass of Perrier and sipped it. "And what do I know about dating, anyway? This is the first date I've been on in ten years, since I met my wife. But I'm over her now. I'm ready for a woman like Kate."

             
It said wonders for Teague's control that he managed not to kick the shit out of Dean, and that only because Dean so wasn't ready for a woman like Kate. She'd ride over the top of him, and Dean would count himself privileged to be part of the asphalt.

             
"Hey, Ramos." Brad Hasselbeck strolled up, clutching a bourbon and Coke and reeking of cigarettes smoked on the terrace. Keeping an eye cocked at Dean, he asked, "How's the story going? Is Kate getting close to"—he glanced at Dean, and his voice dropped significantly—"wrapping it up?"

             
"Her date
knows
about the stalker, Hasselbeck."

             
"I won't tell a soul." Dean placed his hand on his heart.

             
"Okay, then." Hasselbeck shrugged. "When
are
you wrapping this investigation up, Ramos?"

             
"Shouldn't you be asking about Kate's safety instead?" Teague turned cold eyes on the news director.

             
Hasselbeck exploded with exasperation. "My God, is everybody obsessed with Kate's safety? I've got a job to do, and it isn't easy explaining to my bosses in Florida that the new girl I hired is off-line and unusable because she's got stitches in her chin."

             
Teague took his arm. Said, "Excuse us," to Dean. Moved to a quiet corner and asked, "Who else is interested?" The question wasn't idle. He wanted to know who was asking about Kate, and why.

             
"Everybody knows she's the new reporter," Hasselbeck said. "They like her news stories. They want to know how she got hurt. All I've done all evening long is answer questions about Kate Montgomery."

             
"I'm trying to find her stalker so she can go back to work, and you're not a lot of help." Teague's gaze sought Kate as she spoke with the socialite Winona Acevedo, who was laughing animatedly and gazing—oh, hell, they were both gazing at him.

             
Normally he wouldn't care if his former lover met the woman he was trying to get in the sack, but right now he wanted to walk over, grab Kate by the wrist, and drag her away.

             
"What about the story?" Hasselbeck asked.

             
"She's been taking notes and filming for the last three days. I'd say she has enough for ten stories. But what do I know?"

             
"That's right." Hasselbeck brightened. "There's one thing you don't know anything about, and that's television news."

             
"Too true." It didn't matter that he hadn't got her in bed. He shouldn't want her right now while she was his client and danger stalked her. He needed to get this job done, to get away from Kate before she could entangle him any further in her web. "I'd say if we haven't flushed out the stalker by tomorrow, we should let her run the story and see if the attacks are related to the broadcasts."

             
"Good." Hasselbeck beamed. "Unless there's a disaster that requires coverage, I'm blocking you in for Friday. Let's get this thing done."

             
"Yes." Teague looked across the room at Kate.

             
She seemed to feel his gaze on her, and she met his eyes. Her lashes drooped. She smiled with such implicit invitation, Teague took a step before he realized it.

             
Stopping himself, he repeated after Hasselbeck, "Yes, let's get this thing done."

             
He needed to concentrate on business. He needed to remember where he came from. What he'd done. The gray shadows of the past started to envelop him, and for the first time in his life, he encouraged them . . .

             
In his mind, his mother's voice started:
Goddamn it, Teague, you little bastard
. . .

             
Then Kate did something Teague never could have anticipated. She slid her palm down her hip, smoothing the red silk until the thin material was taut against her skin.

             
Heat flashed through him, burning all the old memories away.

             
"Hey, look." Hasselbeck waved his drink toward the door. "Governor Grant!"

             
"What?" Teague stared at Kate, tried to catch his breath.

             
"Man, you got to give it to Oberlin," Hasselbeck said enthusiastically. "He gives a party, and they all come."

             
"Um-hm." Teague wasn't paying attention as the governor of Texas, his wife, and his whole entourage swept in the door.

             
Kate looked . . . it looked as if . . . but no. That was impossible. She would never do as he had demanded. She' would never leave off her thong.

             
She would sure as hell never tell him in the middle of a party when he could do nothing about it. That would be too cruel a revenge for his ultimatum.

             
Her eyelids fluttered up; she looked at him with the sultry invitation of a temptress. And she mouthed: No panties.

             
This time nothing could keep him from her side. Date or no date, Teague did not leave her alone for the remainder of the long, boring evening.

"With Evelyn at his side, George has proved to
be an exemplary senator, leading Texas through difficult waters to our current prosperity." Governor Grant stood on the bandstand with George and Evelyn at his side. "But not only politics has benefited from George and Evelyn's union. Evelyn has made the education of the state's youngest and poorest citizens her objective, and with George's fund-raising assistance, she has started the L'il Texans' Pre-School Program, benefiting underprivileged children throughout the state."

             
George smiled his best genial smile and pretended as if he gave a crap what the pompous windbag of a governor had to say. He didn't. He wanted everyone to go home. He had planned this party as a chance to chat with Kate, to take her on a tour of his home, to show off his art and his gentility. The evening he had planned as a triumphal kickoff to his marital campaign had become a stultifying nightmare.

             
"Here now to present the Oberlins with a plaque commemorating their accomplishments is the chairman of L'il Texans, Carol Murphy!" The governor stepped away to allow Carol to heft herself up on the stage.

             
"Senator Oberlin, because of your belief in our solution to a serious problem in the state and your willingness to use your connections to raise money as well as contribute generously yourself, and because of Mrs. Oberlin's personal hands-on approach to early childhood education, we'd like to present. . . ."