pressing his phone to one ear, Ethan gestured with his free hand. “Phone.”
Chelsea pointed to the photo behind him. Ethan squinted at her and shook his head.
“Look at the photograph behind you,” she said, nodding in that direction.
When Ethan didn’t immediately turn around, Chelsea said, “There’s a photograph of Juliette and me on the wall over your right shoulder. If you’ll simply turn around, you’ll see I’m telling the truth.”
With one last wary glance at Chelsea, Ethan cast a quick look behind him. He did a double take. “Hold on a sec, Joyce. Actually, I’ll call you back if I need you.”
After he disconnected the call, he said, “If you know Juliette so well, why did you break in?”
“She was supposed to leave me a key, but I couldn’t find it.”
He squinted at her. “Where was she supposed to leave it?”
“Under the doormat or someplace. She wasn’t specific, and, as I said, I couldn’t find it. That’s when I saw the open window—”
Ethan held up his hand, silencing her.
“Give me your cell phone.”
“I don’t have it on my person at the moment.”
His mouth twisted in a dubious expression and he grunted. “On your person? I’ve been giving you the benefit of the doubt. If you don’t want to cooperate, I can call Joyce back and we can sort out what’s what down at the station.”
He held out his hand again, this time moving his fingers in a give-it-to-me gesture.
“It’s outside on the back porch in one of my sandals.” Now he was starting to irritate her. “I’m certainly not hiding it.” She ran her hands down the silhouette of her body to emphasize that she was wearing a T-shirt and a rather snug skirt that didn’t leave room for secret pockets.
When she realized that Ethan Campbell’s gaze was meandering the same path her own hands had traced, she regretted issuing the invitation.
She cleared her throat and crossed her arms over the front of her body. “I tried to call Juliette, but she didn’t answer. I left a message and then I saw the open window. I took off my sandals and set down my phone and car key before I came in through the window. If you’ll check outside, you’ll find everything.”
She shrugged a jerky little motion to indicate her annoyance.
“Wouldn’t it be better to just call Juliette’s number from your own phone, anyway? I’m surprised you’re not afraid that I might call one of my henchmen to come and break me out of here.”
His brow shot up and she realized she’d probably said the wrong thing.
“You have henchmen?”
“That was supposed to be a joke.”
“How about some identification?” he said, obviously not amused.
Great. Just great. If he saw the name on her ID, the cat could very possibly be out of the bag. Especially if he called the police back and gave her name to the sheriff. If they ran her ID through one of those fancy contraptions that compiled reports on people’s backgrounds, she might as well leave right now.
“It’s in my purse, which is in the car. I’m happy to go get it.”
“Nice try,” he said. “If I march you outside to get it, there’s a chance you’ll run. If I leave you alone to go look for it myself, you’ll leave.”
He lifted his phone and started pressing numbers.
“No, don’t. Please don’t—”
“I’m calling Juliette.”
She let out her breath on a sigh. “I thought you were calling 911 again.”
He didn’t respond. Instead, he pressed the phone to his ear. She must’ve answered on the first couple of rings.
“Juliette, Ethan Campbell—”
He listened for a moment.
“Sorry to bother you—”
He nodded, opened his mouth to say something and closed it again.
Juliette always had been a talker. It was amusing to watch this tall, gruff, take-charge cowboy be silenced by her. How long would it take before he could get a word in?
If anyone else had been there she’d have wagered with them.
Alas, she was alone and had to enjoy the private audience to this amusing show. When Juliette got back into town, Chelsea fully intended to hug her friend just for being her—and, well, okay, for making Ethan Campbell stammer as he tried to get a voice-hold in the conversation.
“Juliette—” he said. “Juliette—Juliette. Juliette—”
He held the phone away from his ear for a moment and looked up at the ceiling. Chelsea could hear her friend babbling on even though she couldn’t tell exactly what she was saying.
Finally, Chelsea did the only thing she could. “Juliette, it’s Chelsea!” she called in the loudest voice she could muster. “It’s Chelsea Allen. Please tell this man you know me and I’m welcome in your home.”
Even though Chelsea hadn’t been able to understand exactly what Juliette had been talking about a moment ago, she could hear the dramatic silence on the line now and knew Juliette had heard her. She could only pray that Chelsea remembered the code.
Chelsea Allen was the name she’d used back in their university days when she wanted to lay low. Rather than unloading her full name, Lady Chelsea Ashford Alden, which always made people change. They treated humble, unassuming Chelsea Allen like a regular person. Not like the sister of a famous fashion designer or someone whose brother was likely to be the next prime minister. Chelsea Allen was a nobody, and nobody wanted anything from her. Sometimes it was just so much easier to keep things simple. It had been several years since she and Juliette had been out together and she’d played the Chelsea Allen card, but surely Juliette would remember. Of course she would.
Frowning even more pronounced than when he’d first cornered her, Ethan put the phone back to his ear. “Juliette, do you know a woman named Chelsea Allen?”
Juliette was still talking. Ethan’s gaze flicked to Chelsea. As he listened his frown faded to a scowl.
“Yes. She’s right here. Standing in your hall bathroom. Yep...Sure...Yeah. Right here in your bathtub, to be exact...No, she’s not taking a bath...I caught her coming in through the shower window...It’s a long story...No, she’s fully clothed...Juliette, listen to me. All I need to know is whether or not she’s a friend of yours.”
Chelsea couldn’t help it. She laughed out loud.
Buggers, she was still in the bathtub. She steadied herself with one hand on the wall and
