Seducing His Heart (20 page)

“
Can I have your cell
number, so we can reach you?”

Bess wrote it down. Whit came up behind her
and rested his hand on her shoulder. “She’ll be staying with me, if
you need to reach her.”

The officers exchanged a look then nodded.
“Fine, Mr. Bass.”

“
Is she in any danger?” he
asked.

“
Can’t say, sir. Possibly.
Fortunate she wasn’t home tonight. We’ll interview the doorman and
find out who came in.”

“
Can I come with you?”
Beth asked.

“
Of course.”

Whit took the dogs and retreated to his
apartment while the policemen and Bess went to the lobby.

“
He was dressed as a cop.
Said he was Officer McNeil’s partner and needed to pick up
something McNeil had left behind. So, I let him up,” Crash told
them.

Bess gasped. “Terry didn’t leave anything
behind.”

“
Nothing you’re aware of,
Miss Cooper,” Hank said.

Joe got on the radio and called for a team.
“What did this man look like?” he asked Crash.

The doorman gave a good description, which
didn’t match Terry’s partner. They looked at the security footage,
noticing that the man had averted his face from the camera. But he
was a foot shorter than Terrence McNeil’s real sidekick, so the
officers knew he was a fake.

“
I’m afraid you’re in real
danger, Miss Cooper. Do you have somewhere you can go for a few
days?”

Bess burst into tears. She picked up her
cell and dialed Rory.

“
I’m on my way,” Rory
said.

Crash gave Bess his handkerchief. The two
huddled together while the cops conferred with another one outside.
When Rory and Hack arrived at The Wellington, a police car with
lights flashing was parked at the curb. Joe and Hank were standing
on the sidewalk, talking. Another officer was on his radio. When
Crash saw Rory, he opened the front door.

“
What
happened?”

“
Miss Rory, so glad you’re
here. It’s been a three-ring circus.”

Bess stepped forward. Rory hugged her
friend. Hack stood behind Rory. Before Bess got out more than one
sentence of explanation, Whit, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt,
joined them.

“
Let’s go up to my place.”
He told Crash to send the police up if they needed Bess, took her
hand, and ushered them into the elevator. Once safely inside his
apartment, he locked the doors and offered everyone drinks. Bess
opted for coffee, as did Hack and Rory. Whit poured himself a
brandy after he flicked the switch on the coffeemaker.

Bess recounted the story of the
break-in.

“
There was a guy disguised
as a cop who broke in here?” Hack asked.

“
The police think Terry
left something in my apartment and that the guy might be back. They
don’t know if he found what he was looking for or not.”

“
You can stay at my place,
Bess. I’m living at Hack’s, but still have my digs.”

“
She can stay here with me
as long as she likes,” Whit offered.

Rory shot Hack a smile. “Duh, can’t guess
which one she’d choose.”

“
Wait!” Whit shot up from
the seat. “Better idea. I’ve got a house in Rye. She can stay
there. No one will ever find her there. She’ll be completely
safe.”

“
A house? In
Rye?”

“
Rye’s only about
twenty-five miles away. Yeah. A small, stone cottage right near the
beach.”

“
How come you never told
me about this?” Bess asked.

Hack nudged Rory and shot his gaze at the
door.

“
Seems to me you’re well
cared for, Bess.” Rory pushed to her feet. Hack
followed.

“
We’ll be going,” Hack
said, heading out.

“
Thank you both for
coming. I know it’s late.”

Rory hugged her friend, took Hack’s hand,
and pushed the button for the elevator. The forensics team was
already in the apartment, taking samples and dusting for
fingerprints. The two pugs had curled up together and were snoring
away on Whit’s sectional sofa.

He stretched out and patted the cushion.
“This way we’re here if the police need you.”

Bess smiled a sleepy yawn
and lay down next to him. Whit turned on his side, closed his arms
around her, and sighed. Bess cuddled into his embrace, folded one
arm under the pillow and the other over his. As heat from his body
warmed her, a small sound of contentment passed her lips. Peace
surrounded her.
Whit’s here. I’m
safe.

Sleep came to both of them for at least an
hour before the officers interrupted them. The dogs gave short,
half-hearted barks before shutting their eyes again. Bess answered
questions, drank more coffee, and then returned to snooze alongside
Whit until eight o’clock.

Chapter Eleven

While Bess was in her apartment, conferring
with the police, Whit called the real estate agent and took the
stone house off the market. Then, he sat back, sipping coffee, his
feet resting on an ottoman, and stared out the window. He replayed
in his head his recent conversation with his therapist, Dr. Sumner,
and thought about the question left unanswered when the session
ended.

“
Why should I keep the
house? I’m never going to use it,” Whit said.

“
Leaving the country,
selling a house you love. Sounds like you’ve given up. Like you
don’t think you’ll ever have the life you want.”

“
I’ve already given that
up. I told you. That isn’t my dream anymore. Not since I was a
kid.”

“
You can tell me a hundred
times, Whit, but it’s you that you have to convince.”

“
I am convinced. I’ve got
that job in Asia coming up. I’ll be living a different kind of
life.”

“
Is that the life you
want?”

Silence. Then, “I think so.”

“
If you didn’t want a wife
and family, why’d you buy the house?”

“
I told you, for
Gemma.”

“
Why didn’t you sell it
when you and Gemma broke up?”

Whit opened his mouth then closed it without
uttering a word. The verbal sparring ended. Dr. Sumner had won.
Whit had no answer. “I fell in love with that house.”

“
Yet, you’ve never lived
in it. Never even finished furnishing it. But never sold it. How
come?”

“
That’s a good question. I
don’t know.”

“
Our time is up for today.
Why don’t you think about that, and we can discuss it next
time.”

Whit had thought about
that question repeatedly for days. His reaction to the stone house
was out of character. It disturbed him. He was a man who knew what
he wanted, went after it, got it, and was satisfied. There was
nothing wishy-washy about Whitfield Bass. Yet, here was this house,
hanging around, doing nothing except eating up money. And he hadn’t
sold it.
A rational man would have dumped
it long ago. Why didn’t I?

Now, he was glad he’d
hesitated to unload the place. He needed it. Letting Bess live
there would help make up for his horrible blunder of allowing the
crew to record her. He had felt responsible from the get-go, but he
couldn’t find a way to fix his error. Now, he had one.
Let her stay there until it’s safe to come
home.
He smiled.
Good thing I didn’t sell it. But I still don’t have an answer
for Dr. Sumner.

He’d be a bit embarrassed
to bring her to a house that didn’t even have a kitchen
table.
If I gave her some money, would she
furnish it for me? Why do I need to furnish it, if I’m going to
sell it when she leaves? Guess I’m not going to. At least for now.
Not while Bess needs it. She can’t live in it empty.
He took a deep breath. A sense of satisfaction
filled him. Atonement was a wonderful thing.

Bess would stay with him in New York for a
couple of days. She’d sleep with him. He drooled at the idea,
smiling at the thought of Bess in his bed.

And at the house! The
mattress there was still wrapped in plastic. He and Gemma had
broken up before he could get her onto it. It didn’t even have
sheets. Now, he’d christen it with Bess. His groin tightened at the
picture in his mind’s eye. Bess naked in bed in the stone house. A
fire in the bedroom fireplace? He chuckled.
Have to buy andirons, a screen, and wood first.

As his thoughts drifted to a more explicit
scene, the door burst open. Bess looked frazzled. Her hair was
askew, her lipstick chewed off, and she frowned. “How’s
Dumpling?”

“
Fine. Sleeping. When do
you want to go out to my house?”

“
I have to spend a couple
of days here, taking care of things. They said they’d be finished
in the apartment later tonight. I need to get everything
straightened up before I go anywhere.”

“
You shouldn’t be there
alone.”

“
I won’t. Dumpling’ll be
there with me.”

“
No offense, but she
wasn’t much help the first time.”

“
It’ll be daytime. I’ll be
safe.” She patted his chest.

“
But you’ll be here with
me at night?” Whit snaked his arm around her waist.

“
Of course.” She shot him
a flirtatious glance. “I need a shower.”

Whit rounded up a fresh towel, his terry
robe, and a washcloth. As she turned on the water, he put up a
second pot of coffee.

* * * *

Bess’s mind whirled. She
cranked up the hot water to wash away cold fear.
Someone disguised as a policeman. Terry, what did
you do? Why is this happening? This isn’t a movie. This is my life.
No job. In danger. Everything is shot to hell.
A tremor snaked up her spine.

Whit. Whit was there. When
I needed him, he was there. He’s taking me in.
The warmth of his affection and protection swam through her.
She turned down the water temperature.
Can
I rely on him? What about this house? Is it nice? Habitable? Do I
have a choice?
A quick shudder at the
consequences of not leaving town shot through her. She turned off
the spray.

Stepping into his thick,
terrycloth robe, being surrounded by his masculine scent, made her
needy and comforted at the same time. She rubbed the lapels against
her cheeks.
Thank God, he doesn’t hate me
for slapping him.
Gratitude mixed with
lust in her veins. She used his hairbrush and brushed her teeth
with her finger before joining him in the living room.

She grabbed a mug of coffee then wrapped the
robe tighter against a cool, October breeze.

“
Should I close the
window?”

“
I’m okay.”

Whit came up behind her and wrapped his arms
around her. “How about I keep you warm this way?”

The touch of his hands and the pressure of
him against her sparked desire in Bess. “I was thinking of
something else. When do you have to be at work?”

“
Noon.” His breath teased
her neck, followed by gentle pressure from his lips as he kissed
his way down from her earlobe to her shoulder. Bess closed her
eyes. His fingers curled around the lapels of the robe, slowly
easing it open. His fingertips skimmed over her skin. “You’re so
soft,” he murmured, his lips almost touching her ear.

His hand closed around her breast, squeezing
gently. Bess leaned back against him, stretching her chin up,
opening her neck to him. He dove on it like a hungry vampire. His
kisses combined with his massage started her motor. Need grew
between her legs. She wanted him.

“
Bess, I…” he
murmured.

“
Don’t talk. Love me,” she
whispered, pulling her sash loose.

He took her hand and led
her into his bedroom. She looked around with curious eyes. It was
masculine, like the living room, but stark—not much furniture. A
queen-sized bed dominated the space. There were two low, ebony
dressers and two matching end tables. A chrome lamp arced high to
rest over one side of the mattress.
That
must be his side.

The walls were bright
white, and the floor polished wood with a plush area rug in a
modern black and white design.
This room
is cold. Not passionate like Whit. Who did this?
One black and white etching was mounted to face
the bed.

A chill made her close her robe. “Who
decorated this?”

“
I hired someone. It’s
serviceable. It works.”

“
Serviceable is about all
it is. Brrr. It’s freezing in here.”

Whit ripped down the black comforter and the
white sheet underneath. “I’ll warm you up. Slide in.” He stood back
and made a little bow.

Bess shed her covering, draping it over the
bottom of the bed, and climbed in. Whit ripped his T-shirt over his
head and unbuttoned his jeans.

The bedclothes were icy, giving her
gooseflesh. Bess rubbed her arms. The gaze from Whit’s gray eyes
warmed her. He stared at her, looking her over before placing a
knee on the mattress.

“
You’re incredibly
beautiful. I hope you know that.”

“
If you say
so.”

“
Are you kidding?” He
climbed up.

“
I’m a little hippy. Could
easily lose ten pounds…fifteen.”