The door slammed. Bethany turned to find his eyes on her.
Greg gave her another slow look, this time it felt like he was taking mug shots with his mind. “I’m out in the lobby by the fireplace. We’ll hit the slopes. Let everyone get accustomed to seeing us together. We’ll appear to be friends, not guard and charge.”
There was no way she was dragging her tired behind out on any slopes today. She needed food, a thick fluffy pillow, and a firm mattress to envelope her for the next ten hours. “Greg I’m going to have to beg off on this one, and meet you in the morning or if I venture out to grab something to eat later, but I’m exhausted.”
Greg stepped in, his wolfish grin coming out of hiding. His eyes focused on her untied bootlaces, then her face and a warm smile lifted one corner of his mouth. “Going out?”
Bethany dropped her attention to her boots holding one foot out. “No…threw them on to run down and grab a sandwich from the kitchen, Mrs. Shamochernyi’s holding for me. We can meet in the great room in the morning.”
“Well,” he said pointing out past the window. “I’m out behind the chalet in the stone shanty. On the phone, my room number is 6B. The detective gave you my cell. Don’t hesitate to call me.” He tugged the brim of the hat over his deep-set eyes in a chivalrous gesture.
“Thanks for coming to introduce yourself.” She stretched and cracked the tension in her back. “I’ll see you in the morning, Greg.”
“Ms. Cansler…” he trailed off backing out the door into the hall.
Crossing the room, she removed her boots, setting them on the tray then went to turn the bed down. As a little girl, she’d pull the covers back before dinner so the air warmed her sheets. She never outgrew the ritual. And right now, she needed normal. Needed her condo back. Her sanity back. Her mother’s fried corn wouldn’t hurt right now either. What exactly did normal look like again? It certainly wasn’t rope burn around her wrists and ankles.
The well-laundered spread released a soft clean linen scent behind each fold down to the bottom of the bed.
Slipping her hand beneath the pillow sham, something sharp scratched her finger. Pain tingled over the tip. She yelped.
Whatever it was had sharp edges.
In a flash, Glenda had run over from the bathroom and snatched the pillow from the bed. The envelope flipped out onto the floor tumbling under the night table to land on the heat vent on the floor with a thud.
Reaching out she started to pick up the hard objects, but instead ran over, dialed the front desk, then asked for Mikhail's cabin’s extension.
Within two minutes, Mikhail stood at her side, a hand on her back, absently rubbing along her spine. Rattled, she didn't have the care to pull away, focusing on the shiny metal. The jagged edges had pricked her finger. Holding her hand, she stood flabbergasted. When was her last tetanus shot? It had to be when she got her passport or last year for her physical. Regardless that metal had nipped her finger, and it was bleeding.
Mikhail read the note again. “Smart of you to walk away from him. We’d be a better couple.”
Bethany turned fighting the lump in her throat. “They’re up here!” What could be so interesting about her for them to follow her up here? Wringing her hands in front of her lap, Bethany wasn’t certain coming up here was the best idea.
Mikhail stared past her to the note, and she caught the acknowledgement of something cross his features. He knew who the stalker was.
“Mikhail?” He gave her a look that said not to question him right then. Something bigger was happening and all she could do was wait.
“We all need to pretend we never saw this. That was the second reporter lurking around. Thankfully, Crazy was there and took the camera from him. They think Bethany and I are going through a divorce and are trying to catch Bethany in a compromising position, because the media is paying good money for a negative picture to go with a story.” Mikhail looked at Bethany. “Greg is posing as your ski partner.”
Greg picked up the metal with a paper towel dropping it into a Ziploc bag for evidence. Seth Dragoslava and Josef Shamochernyi stepped into the room, large and imposing.
“What the hell happened, Mikhail? Anya said someone broke into these girls’ room,” Josef questioned eyeing the Ziploc Greg held in the air to the light.
“That was under Ms. Cansler's pillow when she turned her bed down. I want all access to this room restricted to me and the two ladies occupying the room.”
“The letter has a broken knife blade attached with Scotch tape,” Officer Greg said. “Sounds as if someone believes they know you well, Bethany. It could be somebody who asked you out and you turned down?”
“I don’t know,” she challenged eyeing the others in the room watching her, waiting for her to make a misstep and incriminate herself. But they would be wrong. She was just as much in the lurch as they were. Only her life was in jeopardy, not theirs. “Someone’s got it out for me, and they’re making certain you all are available to witness it when they pull the childish pranks.”
“They’re waiting to see what shakes you, Bethany,” Glenda said.
“Has someone been bothering you lately?” Mikhail asked.
It had been weeks and no one’s asked her out. “No,” she lied. How could she talk to him about that with all those eyes and ears staring and listening? Padding across to her dresser not liking all the attention, she pushed back the lamp then sank down on the corner. “This is crazy. Who could have come in here? Better yet, who knew I'd be in this room?”
“I'll go check with the concierge to see who had access to room assignment.”
“That proves someone at the firm’s doing this, Mikhail,” Bethany forced under her anger.
Mikhail turned his attention over to Greg taking pictures with his phone. “I don't want Bethany without protection when she leaves this room, Officer Greg.”
“On it,” Greg said.
“Greg,” Bethany called. “I’ll meet you in the morning.”
“Then I’ll meet you at your door at eight am.”
“How about in the great room after breakfast, that way we’ll blend in like every other guests. Glenda will be with me, and I’ll wait inside the door.”
Everyone looked at Mikhail for clearance.
“Anya has breakfast going at five am, and Josef is walking around. She’s safe to walk out with Glenda.”
Greg raised his brows, accentuating those recreational green eyes—many hours of play behind that stare. Was he dangerous or daring?
She’d find out in the morning. She had the blue glacier staring her down right then.
Mikhail took her hand. “Come with me.” In the bathroom, he closed the door eyeing the space beneath it, looking for shadows she presumed. He turned on the faucets then stood beside the door.
“Before you say anything, I know you reported the men who were harassing you. And I know why you didn’t tell me. I have the names, and I’ll check them out. That’s a fight for a different day.”
She hopped on the counter and crossed her legs. Bracing her hands on the stone surface, she leaned out over her knees.
Mikhail came over to her, resting his hands on her knees. “They need us at each other’s throat. They’re using you to get to me. It’s easy to coin you as the stalker, Bethany.”
“You have other ex-girlfriends, Mikhail. Why me?”
“I don’t know.” He brushed his knuckle over her hand. “Pretend we’re a couple. They’ll either lose interest or come after me directly. I want this threat off your shoulders.”
She couldn’t keep her jaw from dropping slack, and he picked up on it.
“Try not to vomit, I’m not going to crawl into bed with you, Bethany,” he complained, but it wasn’t him getting in the bed that worried her but what he’d do to her once the lights were out that had her needing to change her panties. “You’re the only one in the office they can pin it on and not look suspicious.”
“Mikhail…” she resisted but she couldn’t make it believable with him so close. The curve at the corner of his mouth said he wasn’t buying it, but he let her have her moment.
“Bethany, if we don’t fight, they have no reason to use you, and this prick won’t think you’re available.”
She thought of the cabinet and the rope burns on her skin. And never wanted to be in that situation again. “What are we talking about? Eating dinner together? Skiing together? Holding hands, what?” No kissing. The one by the truck nearly melted the zipper on her ski jacket.
He uncrossed her legs, and moved in closer, keeping her from moving. A mask of pain crossed his features. “Are you going to look like a trapped kitten every time I get close or touch you?”
Yes, yes she was. It was a challenge not to purr and arch her back now, like a cat in heat under the assault of his body touching hers. If she could hang onto her sanity until he left, she’d be okay.
The grin parted his lips enough to show it wasn’t an amused thought. The flush of his ears announced that loud and clear. They had been together long enough, he had to know she was struggling not to break. He looked away then back. “I’m not the enemy. You think I enjoy hearing that some asshole groped you in the dark while you were tied up in a closet. Then when I find you, when the door opens, you’re huddled on the floor, cold and scared.” He breathed through his nose making a snorting sound. “You turned to another man for help because you couldn’t bear to look at me. You think I don’t care.”
“I’m not ready to have this fight with you. But I’m trying to be civil, to show you my appreciation for you believing in me. But you just won’t stop pushing me to let it go. I can’t. I don’t know why, but I’m not ready.”
“Okay,” he said dropping his arms down to her hips to pull her closer to his chest. “Then until you’re ready, you’re still mine. We’re still a couple. Don’t argue with me. Don’t push me away. If you’re not ready to talk about it, then you’re not ready to make a choice to toss me away.”
She massacred the hand towel folded beside her thigh turning it back and forth twisting the edges. “You’re eating this up,” she argued wanting to cross her legs and push him back some. “We do this then it’s only a matter of time before I want you again.”
“You want me now.”
“My body wants you, there’s a world of difference between my body and mind.” Not exactly a world of difference, more of a conscious and unconscious choice. She stopped ruminating hearing Mikhail clear his throat.
“There’s too much good between us to throw it away, Bethany.”
What was she doing? He would just break her heart again. What did it matter if she were dead? She wanted this creep caught and if that meant teaming up with Mikhail then it was better than going to prison for something she didn’t do.
“Rebuild my trust in you,” Bethany pleaded her sanity on edge.
“I intend to.”
Mikhail could flirt all day, but he was patient, and that was the problem. He made her feel special, made her smile. A smile would lead to a kiss. A kiss led to…
“I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this odd arrangement.”
“Hugs and kisses are all included. We did it as a couple, and we’ll do it now.”
“I should charge you cash upfront per kiss.”
“My wallet’s in my back pocket. I suggest you take it all if I’m paying per kiss and the black card if you’re charging for hugs, because I plan on taking one each time I approach and one when I walk away.”
She winced. “You’re serious.”
“Real hugs, no weak arm draped over my shoulder and so far apart I can barely feel the heat off your body. No, I want all of this pressed up against me good and tight.”
“Why?”
He watched her intently a wicked smile danced at the corner of his lips. “Because you’re still mine.”
Was she that transparent? “Can I put a clause in there?”
“No.” He backed into the towel bar holding a hand up when she started to get down. “Civilized couples kiss publicly every once in a while, Bethany, even have pleasant conversations.” He lifted his leg and playfully tapped her foot hanging off the counter with his. “You like my kisses, from what I remember.”
“No deep kissing,” she warned, throwing one of the small bars of soap at him. Mikhail caught it out of the air, then crossed the space to stand between her thighs. “Don’t look at me like that.” Her brick wall of restraint began to crumble under the pounding of her heart with him so close.
“Really…” he taunted moving in closer until her back was against the mirror, the water still running, sending billows of steam into the air. “To stay alive, you can’t put up with my tongue slipping between your lips, not even if I swirl it around the way you like, for a few seconds?”
Thick muscles she caressed under the palm of her hand now flat on his chest keeping him away from her lap. “This doesn’t put you back into my life romantically.”
He shook his head. “This, my dear, you won’t control.” He placed a hand flat to the mirror and touched her chin with the other hand. “You don’t get options when I’m saving your life…understand?”
She twisted her mouth. Thrilled by his commanding tone, but this wouldn’t work. “Everyone knows why we broke up. They’ll never believe I just forgave you, and everything’s honky dory.”
His brows crashed together over determined eyes. “I don’t care what others think. I’ll regain your trust, and you react however you feel comfortable, but I’ll do what I feel is necessary and you’ll deal with it or I’ll drive you back down the mountain and lock you inside my home until I can come back down there in a week.” He plucked the hem of her sweater and dragged a knuckle up and down over the zipper. “But the first sign that you’re in trouble or this person comes after you, I’m moving you into my cabin. I don’t give a damn what you say, your safety isn’t up for debate.” She found her ability to breathe. He moved his hand to cup her chin running his thumb over her bottom lip. She fought the desire to lick out her tongue. “And if anybody has a weapon, that can bring me to my knees, it’s this damn smile of yours. The one I love and you share with everyone else except me.”
Her lips parted and a smile opened up for him. He trailed it with his thumb rubbing back and forth.
“You’re not someone I want to walk away from. And when you’re ready, and I’m ready, we’ll discuss what happened that week you went away. Get it all out and deal with it. Until that time, we are romantically and emotionally connected.”