“You also saw the video of me singing? I don’t suppose you can take that down, too? I didn’t intend for lots of people to see that, but someone posted it.”
“I’m afraid it’s too late for that one,” he said. “Once it’s gone viral, you can’t take it back. You were wonderful, Isabel.”
Embarrassed by the compliment, she said, “I was drunk.”
“You were wonderful,” he repeated. “Now you say, ‘Thank you.’?”
“Thank you.”
“Who was the guy with his arm around you, pushing people out of the way to get you across the floor after you sang? The guy with the blond hair. Did you know him?”
“That was Damon. He’s a good friend.”
Friend. Not likely. Whoever filmed the video had scanned the audience, and Michael noticed the look on good old Damon’s face as they crossed the room.
“How good a friend?” he asked.
“He’s like a brother to me.”
He must love that, Michael thought.
Something about this Damon fellow annoyed him. But why did he care if the guy wanted her? And from the look on his face while she was singing, it was obvious that he did. Michael felt a hint of resentment beginning to swell up inside him. What was wrong with him? That was probably the tenth time he’d asked himself that question, and he still hadn’t come up with an answer.
The temptation to pull her into his arms again was becoming almost impossible to fight, and damn it, there was a bed just a couple of feet away. He wasn’t made of iron, for God’s sake. Didn’t she understand that?
“I should get back.” He knew he sounded desperate.
“Okay, leave.”
She didn’t understand. She wouldn’t have sounded so annoyed if she realized what was going through his mind.
“I’ll leave in a minute. You said there were a couple of other problems you wanted to figure out.
The video of you singing was one. What’s the other?”
Isabel wondered what he would do if she told him the truth: You. You’re the other problem. “I can’t remember. It must not have been important.”
He threaded his fingers through his hair. He thought his frustration must be obvious to her. “Are you going to be okay here . . . alone?”
“Of course.”
“You won’t go up to the spa and work out in the middle of the night?”
Isabel thought it was sweet that he was worrying about her. She still didn’t think he liked her much, but she could tell he was physically attracted to her. The way he looked at her told her so. He
must hate that.
“I have no desire to work out tonight.”
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll come get you in the morning.”
“You don’t need to do that.”
“Noon. I’ll be here at noon.”
He grabbed his duffel bag, and he was out the door.
Isabel walked into the bedroom and noticed her laundry had been returned. Her windbreaker was neatly folded on top of her other clothes. She checked the sleeve and was impressed because she could barely see that there had been a tear.
Glancing around the empty hotel room, she realized she was finally alone, and she didn’t like it one little bit. She was used to Michael being around. Granted, they had had a couple of squabbles, but there had been a sense of security when he was with her. Nothing to worry about, she told herself. She was fine without him. After she changed into her pajamas and settled in, she would enjoy the peace and quiet. She wouldn’t miss him at all.
She went into the bathroom to get ready for bed and spotted Michael’s shaving kit sitting on the vanity. Quickly reaching for her phone, she called him.
“Yes, I need it. I’ll come up to get it,” he said.
“No, I’ll meet you in the lobby.”
Had he wanted to argue, he was too late. She’d already disconnected the call. Slipping her room card into her pocket, she grabbed the kit and went downstairs.
The lobby was still crowded with guests coming and going, but because he was so tall, he was easy to find. He had just walked back into the hotel.
Michael spotted her right away. How could he not? She was the most beautiful woman in the lobby. He was walking toward her, thinking she had a great smile when, quick as a blink, her expression changed to one of sheer panic.
Isabel had heard shrill laughter and turned toward the sound. There was a group of ladies clustered together near the atrium, and all of them seemed to be talking at the same time. They were a happy group, she thought.
Several older businessmen deep in conversation were inadvertently pressing in on her. She stepped back, and that was when she noticed him. A man with red hair and an angry expression etched on his face was staring at her and coming fast, weaving his way through the crowd. Seeing him triggered the memory of the redheaded man standing on the corner watching her as she tried to help Detective Walsh. Oh God, was it the same man? And if so, why would he be following her?
He looked like the same man . . . didn’t he? She shook her head. She’d seen him on the street for only a few seconds, and he was too far away for her to get a really good look.
Suddenly Michael was there, reaching for her and pulling her into his arms, blocking her view.
“What’s wrong?” he demanded.
“Did you see him?” Isabel was so frantic, she could barely get the words out.
“See who?”
“There was a man . . .” She pulled away from Michael and searched the lobby, but she couldn’t find the man anywhere. How had he vanished so quickly? “He’s gone,” she said.
The color had left her face, and Michael worried she’d pass out. He put one arm around her shoulders and led her to a chair. Whomever she’d seen had scared the hell out of her.
“I think I saw him there,” she said as she sat down, still searching the lobby for some sign of the man. “He was on the street at the corner . . . at the shooting . . . but he didn’t help me. He just disappeared. Now he’s done it again.” Michael squatted next to her and she grabbed his arm. “How is that possible? And what does he want with me?” She didn’t give him time to answer. “He had such a hateful look on his face.”
Michael pulled her to her feet. “Come on. We’re going to pack your things and get out of here. I’m taking you home with me.”
She thought that was a wonderful idea. “I’ll be safe there.”
“I’m going to make sure you’ll be safe.” He knew how arrogant he sounded, but he was telling her what he believed to be true. He would kill anyone who tried to hurt her.