She wasn’t smiling now. “You have all sorts of degrees. You graduated from university at the top of your class, and you graduated from law school at the top. Then you took the bar and, according to your father, who told Kate who told me, you got the highest score. All of this suggests that you’re very smart, Michael. I, on the other hand, took four and a half years . . .” She paused, took a breath, and then said, “Actually, it was five years because of all the extra classes I took. Yes, five to graduate from college, and I assure you I wasn’t at the top of my class. I was somewhere in the middle, which would suggest that I’m pretty average.”
She put her hand up when he looked as though he was going to interrupt. “All right, then,” she continued. “So the first reason is that you’re smart and I’m not.” She turned and walked ahead of him as she continued. “You’re also sophisticated, and you believe I’m naive. You’ve been all over the world, speak several languages, and have had all sorts of experiences, good and bad. I speak a little French and a little Spanish, but not well, and I haven’t been anywhere.”
“Are you finished?” he asked.
“Not quite,” she said. “You’re cynical, and I’m too trusting. I look for the good in others, or at least I try to, and you have been trained to look for the bad.”
She was walking faster now, heading back to the house. “Oh, one last and probably least important reason. I assume you’ve had sex with a lot of women. You have, haven’t you?”
He almost laughed. Man, had this conversation gotten away from him. “Yes, I’ve had sex with a few women.”
She stopped to face him, waiting for him to ask her about her sex life. He remained silent. It obviously wasn’t important to him. She was about to point out that he was experienced and she wasn’t, then changed her mind. Turning back, she continued on her way to the house with him by her side. “And those, Michael, are just a few of the reasons we would never work.”
Isabel didn’t wait around to hear his rebuttal. When they reached the steps to the porch, she hurried inside, letting the screen door swing shut behind her.
Noah was walking past the dining room just as she was racing through. He spotted her and asked,
“What’s wrong?”
She forced a smile. “Nothing’s wrong.”
He didn’t believe her but didn’t pry. “Alec and I are going sailing. You want to come along?”
“Just the two of you in that big boat?”
“Michael’s also going.”
Oh, hell no, as Dylan would say. “It sounds fun, but I’ve already made plans.” Her voice was strained, and she was sure he picked up on it. “Thanks for asking.”
She turned and hurried up the stairs to her bedroom before Noah could insist she tell him what was bothering her. She would have to explain that Michael had broken up with her. Noah would be surprised, of course, and would say that he didn’t know she and Michael were together. She would then respond, neither did she. How wacky was that?
A few minutes later she was sprawled out on the bed replaying the ludicrous conversation she’d had with Michael when it occurred to her that she was actually hiding in her bedroom until he left to go sailing.
“Enough already,” she muttered. She wasn’t going to hide from anyone.
Her cell phone rang then. It was Detective Samuel, who had a few questions about the man she’d seen on the street corner.
When she explained that she had glimpsed at the man for only a second, Samuel asked, “And you saw him again last night at the hotel?”
“I couldn’t swear it was him,” she admitted. “I saw a man with red hair coming toward me. The lobby was crowded but he seemed to be staring straight at me. Maybe I imagined him to be the same man.”
“We’ve studied the hotel security tapes. We did see the man you describe, but he turned and left the hotel. He appeared to be in a hurry.”
“I’m sorry if I’ve complicated things.”
Samuel was sympathetic. “Don’t be. This has been a traumatic experience for you. It’s important that we look into every detail that you think you remember.”
“Think I remember? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Under severe stress the mind can play tricks on us.”
Isabel didn’t disagree. Maybe she was overreacting and confusing her memories with reality.
Samuel went on to share some information about the investigation. “We’ve identified the man you shot. His name was Jacoby, and he has a criminal record a mile long. We’ve talked to the Miami police, and they’ve told us that Detective Walsh was in Boston on personal business but he mentioned something about helping a friend. We believe he was after Jacoby. We haven’t sifted out the particulars yet, but with the Miami police involved now, we’ll get to the bottom of this soon. We won’t need you any longer, at least not for the time being, but I would appreciate it if you would keep us informed of your whereabouts just in case something comes up.”
“I will,” she promised.
“I want to thank you for your cooperation and your patience, Isabel,” he said. “You’re a very brave young lady.”
She didn’t agree. “I’m not so sure about that.”
“I am,” he insisted. “I’ll let Michael know what we discussed.”
“Actually, Michael won’t be available. He isn’t my attorney any longer. His brother Nick will be handling any legal issues from now on.” She added, “He lives in Boston.”
She hoped Nick was agreeable. She knew he was an attorney, and if he declined, she would ask Theo. Assuming she needed an attorney at all.
She had just ended the call when another came in. She didn’t recognize the number but decided to answer anyway.
“Is this Isabel MacKenna?” There was something oddly familiar about the man’s deep, baritone voice.
“Yes,” she answered. “And who is this?”
“My name is Xavier O’Dell. I’m hoping you’re familiar with my work and that you like it.”
“Xavier . . . Did you say . . .”
She heard a long drawn-out sigh over the phone, and then he said, “I’m better known by my initials, XO.”
She nearly dropped the phone. Even though she recognized the voice now, she couldn’t believe it was really him. She burst into laughter. “No, you’re not XO.”
Did he honestly think she would believe the man she was talking to was XO, the most famous singer in the United States . . . perhaps even the world? And the hottest?
“Isabel?”
Snap out of it, she told herself. “Yes?”
“It really is XO, Isabel,” he insisted. “I prefer Xavier, but it seems my fans prefer my initials. I’m not sure who started it, but it quickly caught on.”
It took another five minutes to convince her. By then she was shaking from head to toe.
“I love your voice,” she blurted.
“And I love yours,” he replied. “I’ve watched your video at least a dozen times, and when I found out you were in Boston, I decided to call and ask a favor. I also have a business proposition for you.”
“How did you find out I was in Boston? And how did you get my number?”
“I have a large staff. They’ve been looking for you.”
“Oh,” she said. She was so excited she could barely think. “What’s the favor?”
“I’m performing at The Garden Friday night.”
She knew The Garden. She’d been there before. It was a huge arena with maybe twenty thousand seats. It was an older facility, she remembered, but it had been updated and the acoustics were surprisingly good.