Hot & Bothered Read online

  “Since when?”

  “I can only assume since Father died and I inherited a chunk of the estate. I don’t know, Pam, I have this awful feeling that Father may have promised him something.”

  “Like what?”

  “I haven’t a clue, but I’m pretty sure it’s not a good thing.”

  An arm snaked around her waist. “Forget Wentworth,” John said, tugging her against him. “The guy’s an ass and this is our party. Why don’t you introduce me to more of your friends?”

  “Frank and Pam are the only real friends I have here,” she said dryly, “but I’ll introduce you to more of my acquaintances.”

  For the next hour, she did just that. She led him from one group to the next, introducing him to the people who’d orbited within her father’s sphere. But as she stood within the drape of Rocket’s arm, she found herself concentrating less and less on their conversations with others and more and more on the warmth and hardness of his body. When he abruptly led her back onto the dance floor and pulled her into his arms for a slow dance, she laid her head back on its custom-made spot, wrapped her arms around his neck, and allowed herself to be sucked back into feelings she’d convinced herself had been resolved and forgotten long ago.

  He snuggled her closer, and his breath was warm against her ear when he breathed, “God, this is familiar. Like I’ve got the memory of dancing with you burned in my cells.”

  Pure, unadulterated lust, both remembered and brand-new, clenched hot and deep inside her. “You, too? I thought it was only m—”

  “Shit,” John said at the same moment she became aware of a vibration against her chest. “Hold that thought.” He grimaced apologetically. “It’s my cell phone.” He looked undecided for a moment, then shrugged. “I’ve gotta get it.”

  “Of course.” She loosened her hold from around his neck, but when she would have stepped back, he held her in place with the arm around her waist.

  Reaching inside his tux jacket with his free hand, he pulled out the phone and flipped it open. “Miglionni,” he said a trace impatiently. Then the sweet-talking, slow-dancing man abruptly disappeared and “Expressionless John” reemerged. “When?” Listening to the answer he set Victoria loose. “And why am I just hearing about this now?” There was another pause, then his voice softened. “No, I’m sorry, Mac. I’m frustrated, but I had no right to take it out on you. What? No, you stay home. I’m on my way.”

  Mac. Victoria barely heard the rest of his conversation. She remembered that name; it was the woman he’d talked to on the phone one of the first days he was at the estate—the one she’d overheard him inviting to run away with him. Lifting her chin, setting her shoulders, she cloaked herself in composure. But really, how often did she have to be hit over the head with Rocket’s lady-killer tendencies before she got the point?

  He flipped the cell closed and returned it to his pocket. Grasping Victoria’s arm without ceremony, he steered her toward the ballroom entrance. “If there’s anybody we should be saying our good-nights to, tell me now,” he said in a low voice. “Because that was my business manager. Jared’s been spotted.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  BACK STRAIGHT, SHOULDERS TENSE, Victoria sat stiffly upright in the front seat of John’s car as they headed back to her father’s house. She was still attempting to wrap her mind around the fact that Jared had finally been found—or at least spotted—when they pulled up in front of the mansion.

  John turned to face her, his face unreadable in the light of the drive. “Will you be okay if I don’t walk you to the door? I’ll call as soon as I have something concrete to report.”

  “What do you mean, report? I’m going with you. It’ll just take me a minute to change my clothes.”

  His dark eyes held none of the teasing warmth that had filled them such a short time ago. “That’s not a great idea.”

  “I’m going, John.”

  He studied her for a moment, then hitched one of his muscular shoulders. “You’re paying the tab. But let’s get something straight up front. In this I’m the boss and if you want to tag along, be prepared to do things my way.”

  She nodded and a short while later they were roaring up I-25. She was left with only fuzzy memories of having climbed out of the car, changing her clothes and making arrangements with Helen for Esme’s care. Her recollection of kissing her sleeping baby good-night, however, was much clearer. Now she was back in Rocket’s vehicle, with her suitcase in the trunk, and as she glanced over at him, she marveled in a muzzy sort of way that apparently he did own a pair of jeans.

  Then, in a time lapse she would have sworn was no more than five or ten minutes but which she knew logically had to be much longer, John was putting his blinker on for the Colorado Boulevard exit in Denver. Pulling her fragmented thoughts together, she looked over at him. “Will we find Jared tonight, do you think?”

  He spared her a glance as he changed lanes in order to be in the right one at the fork in the ramp, but turned his attention back to traffic as they merged onto South Colorado. “Probably not. I plan to hit the streets as soon as I drop you off, though, and if that doesn’t produce anything, you and I can try some other places tomorrow. But the odds of stumbling across him aren’t in our favor, so prepare yourself for the likelihood of not locating him until Tuesday when Stand Up For Kids offers another free meal.” He shot her another glance and this one held a warning. “And even that’s not guaranteed.”

  “I’m going with you tonight.”

  “Tori, let me check you into a hotel and do my job.”

  His tone was perfectly civil and patient, but he might as well have snapped her head off or suggested she strip naked and dance down the middle of the street. “Do you honestly think I’ll get a wink of sleep worrying about my brother out on these streets all alone?” she demanded incredulously. “Besides, it’s not as if you’ve ever met him and he certainly doesn’t know you. I’m much more likely to recognize him—not to mention calm his fears—than you, and I am coming along!”

  “Jesus, you’re stubborn.”

  “Oh, trust me, you haven’t seen a fraction of how stubborn I can be.”

  He shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He turned onto Mississippi and within moments was pulling into the valet area of a Tuscan-styled hotel in the upscale Cherry Creek district.

  Twisting in her seat, she stared at him in outrage. “Dammit, Miglionni, I just got done telling you—”

  “I have no idea what time we’ll quit for the night,” he interrupted. “But if you want a place to crash when we do, I suggest you go check in and drop off your luggage.”

  “Oh, right—so you can drive off the minute I clear the door? Forget i—”

  The anger that flared in his eyes chopped her off midword and when he leaned over the console to thrust his face close to hers she drew back until her head pressed the leather of the seat rest. “You want to name one time I’ve ever lied to you?” he demanded.

  She hesitated, but then admitted, “Never,” and felt like a bitch. “I’m sorry.” She didn’t hear him sigh so much as felt it wash across her lips and she tried to lick away the sensitivity it left behind as she watched him straighten back into his seat.

  On his own side of the car once again, thank God.

  “Go check in, Tori,” he said with neutral-voiced courtesy. “Chances are, you’ll be grateful for a place to rest your head before the night is through.”

  Without another word, she climbed out of the car, retrieved her bag from the back and went to do as he bid. But she barely glanced around the hotel’s elegant lobby with its marble fireplace and columns as she walked up to the desk. And refusing to waste time with anything as unnecessary as having the amenities of her room pointed out to her, she pocketed the room key, tipped the bellboy to take her suitcase to her room, and strode straight back out to the car, where she yanked the door open and climbed in. “Let’s go.”

  SHE’D THOUGHT SHE WAS so prepared, but it took Victoria less than an ho
ur to admit, if only to herself, that she hadn’t had the first idea what she was getting into. It was after midnight, but she and John had searched dark, smelly alley after dark, smelly alley, starting with those off the 16th Street Mall and working their way toward Colfax. Although they didn’t find Jared in any of the flimsily constructed lean-tos that John called squats or behind any of the Dumpsters they checked, to Victoria’s complete and utter horror they invariably found some other hollow-eyed teen.

  John talked quietly to each one they came across and Victoria noted how careful he was, after the initial sweep of his flashlight, to keep the beam out of the youths’ faces and trained on the snapshot of Jared as he inquired whether anyone had seen him. One after another, however, each teenager he asked shook his or her head.

  Victoria blew out a frustrated breath as they emerged from yet another garbage-strewn, malodorous alleyway where they’d had to leave another disposable child. “Dear God,” she said hoarsely. “I never dreamed anything this awful existed.” She looked at Rocket. “Aren’t there any shelters in this town?”

  “None that most of these kids can go to. The homeless tend to fight over resources, and unfortunately the kids are usually the losers.” He hesitated, then added in a businesslike tone, “It’s often safer for them on the streets. The adults at the shelters can be pretty abusive.”

  “Dear God,” she repeated.

  “Yeah, it sucks,” he agreed. “But that’s the reality of life on the streets for most runaways.”

  They were making their cautious way down yet another alleyway about forty-five minutes later when a dark shadow suddenly flew out from the lee of a Dumpster, landing in a crouch in front of them. Victoria screamed and Rocket’s arm whipped out to jerk her behind him. She had no shame at all about taking advantage of the shield his back provided and made herself as small a target as possible behind it.

  “Gimme your money and nobody’ll get hurt!”

  The voice was young and male. John slid his hand from where it rested on her hip. She could feel the tension radiating from his hard body, yet his stance as he faced the boy was deceptively casual. After several seconds, when she couldn’t stand not seeing what was going on a second longer, she peered around John’s side, bending slightly to see beneath his armpit.

  Their mugger appeared even younger than he’d sounded. But in the meager moonlight that managed to weave its way down through the buildings hemming them in, he also looked fairly wild-eyed. He had spiked hair that she was pretty sure would be pink in daylight, multitudinous facial piercings and—oh, my God, she felt her own eyes grow wide—a knife with the wickedest-looking blade she’d ever seen held thrust out in front of him.

  “Hand over your money, I said!” His voice cracked on the last word, and he slashed his knife with a side-to-side motion that held such turbulent, ego-driven menace it made her draw back behind John again.

  He, on the other hand, didn’t budge. “Can’t do that, kid,” he said. “But I can let you walk away.”

  A crack of laughter echoed in the otherwise silent alley. “Whaddya, blind, mister? I’m the one with the knife here.”

  “And a very nice one it is,” John said easily.

  Then, between one heartbeat and the next, the solid presence protecting Tori was no longer pressed against her front, and almost quicker than she could comprehend let alone track, he’d eliminated the space that separated him from the teen. Snapping out a hand, he locked his long fingers around the boy’s wrist, where he must have exerted some kind of pressure, because the kid immediately began to sag at the knees. The knife dropped into John’s outstretched palm.

  Setting the youth free, he inspected the knife. “Very nice, indeed. Of course, a weapon is only as effective as the skill of the one who wields it.” He folded the blade in and pocketed it, then pulled out the snapshot of Jared. Holding it out to the boy, he illuminated it with his flash. “Ever seen this guy?”

  Rubbing his wrist, the teen didn’t even pretend to give the photograph a cursory glance. “No.”

  “And you wouldn’t tell me if you had, would you?” When the boy merely shot him a sullen glance, he smiled easily. “Fair enough. I embarrassed you in front of the lady and you’re gonna thwart me in return by not giving me the information I want. Did I mention there’s a reward for information?” He started to put the picture away.

  The kid looked torn for about three seconds. Then he thrust his hand out. “Lemme see that again.”

  “Sure.” Without a trace of triumph in his voice, John handed it over and directed the beam of his flashlight on it.

  “Yeah, okay, I seen him around. He hangs with a girl called Pee Wee, or P.G. or something like that.”

  Tori’s heart began to pound. It was true, then. Jared was somewhere in Denver. Not that she’d really doubted it, of course. Only…hearing someone actually say he’d seen her brother somehow gave it a more immediate validation.

  When she glanced at John, however, he was Mr. Expressionless, looking about as excited as if he’d heard a weather report. “You know where we can find them?”

  “Nope. I saw ’em at Skyline earlier, but I wasn’t payin’ no attention to which way they was headed when they left.” He knuckled his nose and looked at John without expectation. “So I guess I don’t get no reward, huh?”

  John reached into his hip pocket for his wallet and withdrew a twenty. “Tell us about this girl.”

  “She’s, I dunno, just a kid. Younger’n me and sure as shit younger’n that guy.” He indicated the photo John still held. “Brown hair, I think. Talks a lot.” He stared at the twenty in John’s hand and swallowed hard. “Funny voice.”

  “Funny how?”

  “Dunno. Like she’s ’bout a minute away from getting a case of that—whatchamacallit—laren crud. Y’know, in your throat?”

  “Laryngitis?”

  “Yeah. That one.”

  Rocket handed the twenty over along with his business card. “If you spot them, call me—there’s several more where that came from. In the meantime, kid, do us both a favor and leave mugging to the pros. And for crissake, stay away from knives before you end up getting yourself killed.”

  The boy shrugged and, pocketing his money, shuffled back to the far side of the Dumpster.

  John didn’t speak until they reached the street again. Then he stopped Victoria with a hand on her arm when she started down the block. “Let’s call it a night. We can pick this up again in the morning.”

  Her momentary high had crashed, leaving her discouraged through and through. The thought of Jared out here in as desperate straits as the boy they’d just left shook her to the bone. She wanted in the worst way to find him right this moment. But the emotional ups and downs of the night had taken their toll, and she couldn’t summon a single argument for continuing the search. So she nodded.

  They walked without speaking back to where John had parked the car. But once on their way back to her hotel, she wondered if she should have come. If she hadn’t been so damn insistent on participating, John would probably still be looking for her brother now.

  And if that wasn’t enough to eat a hole through the lining of her stomach, there was plenty of backup guilt to provide additional acid for the job. She knew moving to England had been the right choice and she’d had to put Esme first. But she should have fought her father harder to send Jared over to her for more visits than the few he’d allowed. Perhaps if she’d put a little more effort into it, Jared would have felt free to come to her when he ran into trouble, instead of taking to the streets. Silent tears began to pour down her cheeks.

  John glanced over. “Aw, fuck.” He reached across the console and squeezed her knee. “Aw, fuck, darlin’. Don’t cry.”

  “All right,” she agreed and cried even harder.

  Whispering curses beneath his breath he hit the gas and raced down the boulevard. Shortly thereafter, they pulled into the parking garage of her hotel, and John pulled into a vacant slot, killed the lights and c
limbed out, closing the door firmly behind him.

  She didn’t stir from her own seat and a second later the passenger door opened and John’s tan-skinned, clean-nailed hand came into view.

  “Come on,” he said gruffly.

  It never occurred to her to argue. Blinking rapidly in a weak and not very effective attempt to stem the still falling tears and feeling like an idiot, she wiped her cheeks with her wrists. Then she grasped his hand, which immediately closed warm and strong around hers. Reaching a foot out to the concrete floor, she started to scoot forward to allow him to assist her from the car.

  Only to be jerked back in her seat by the seat belt that still held her fast.

  “Oh, perfect. Poetry in motion.” Blowing out a disgusted breath, she popped the buckle free and allowed Rocket to pull her to her feet. But as if to crown her demoralized state with a fricking wreath of thorns, her nose began to run. She sniffed—quietly she hoped, but fearing, as she rummaged through her purse in search of a Kleenex, that she sounded like some forlorn three-year-old in need of a hug instead. And just where was her freaking pack of Kleenex, anyway? God in heaven, was it too much to ask that she locate one lousy tissue? Giving up stealth for the lost cause it was, she sniffed loudly.

  “Poor baby,” John murmured, slipping an arm around her shoulders and guiding her across the echoing cement floor of the garage to the elevators. “Give me your key card and we’ll have you settled in your room in no time.” He gave her a squeeze. “Once you’ve had a few hours sleep, I guarantee things won’t look so grim.”

  Okay, what’s that old saying? She dug the folder with the room card out of her purse and handed it over as they boarded the elevator. What doesn’t kill you makes you strong? Probably no one had ever died from mortification. It might even have a plus side—when it came to stopping her tears it was sure more effectual than blinking. Her weeping was down to a few vagrant trickles by the time John stopped in front of a room a few minutes later. He compared its number to that written in the key folder, then quickly opened and held the door for her with one hand while he reached past her to flip on the entrance light with the other.