you in cold blood or you’re a threat to the arsonist’s identity.”
Her mind tried to remember what she’d read and heard about the half-dozen arson fires that had been in the news lately. “I don’t know anyone who’d deliberately burn down a building.”
“Then who wants you dead?”
The image of her stepmother, her perfect features contorted in rage, made her close her eyes. How could she tell Flynn that the leading candidate was her evil stepmother? Talk about trite. Besides, that was mixing fairy tales. In Sleeping Beauty it had been the evil godmother, not the stepmother.
She shook her head. Exhaustion was turning her thoughts absurd. She opened her eyes to find Flynn watching her closely.
“I gather you have a candidate?”
“Of course not,” she protested instantly. Ruby might not care if Whitney dropped dead, but her stepmother wouldn’t go out of her way to make it happen. Trapping an older man and taking him for all she could get, that was Ruby. Murder? No way. Ruby was too clever to show a dark side publicly. No matter what Whitney said or did to provoke her, the former nurse was unfailingly polite and ingratiating. Especially when Whitney’s father was around.
How could he not see through her? The years-old question made her cringe. Braxton Charles was a respected real estate developer. He was no one’s fool.
Until it came to Ruby.
“No amorous ex?” Flynn continued. “Boyfriend, husband, would-be suitor?”
“No.”
“I find that hard to believe. The men around here aren’t all blind or gay.”
She couldn’t even smile at his compliment because her mind had flashed back to last night and Christopher’s unexpected and unwanted advances. While she disliked Ruby intensely, she’d never let it become an issue with Ruby’s much younger brother. She actually liked Christopher. He was handsome, funny, friendly and outgoing. Privately, she’d always considered him something of a puppy.
Until last night.
If she’d been paying more attention to the scene at the door would never have taken place. How had she missed the cues that his teasing had become something more? Had it always been more and she’d been too preoccupied to notice? She would have handled last night better if she’d been prepared and hadn’t been so upset about her father.
Whitney hadn’t realized she was holding a fork until her fingers cramped around it with painful intensity.
“Hey. It was supposed to be a compliment. You okay?”
Carefully, Whitney set the fork down on the plate. “I’m fine.”
His lips thinned. “That is not a look I’d want to cross your face when you were thinking of me.”
She could feel the heat pinking her cheeks once more and cursed the fair skin bequeathed by her mother. “It’s complicated.” Coming here had been a mistake.
“Don’t ever play poker,” he advised.
“It’s not on my to-do list.”
“What is?”
She brought him into focus, reining in her emotions. “Finding the person responsible for what happened last night heads my current list.”
All teasing left his expression. “Then you need to talk to the fire investigator.”
She tensed.
“What’s the problem here, Whitney?”
She thought of her father’s pinched, haggard features and the anger that had been in his eyes as they’d squared off last night. The problem was fear—gut-wrenching, sick fear for herself and the man who had sired her. She could hardly tell Flynn that.
“Publicity for one.”
“I’ve got news for you, sweetheart, being carried out of a burning building and disappearing from a hospital room guarantees you publicity.”
“No one can tell that picture is of me.”
“Are you sure?”
No, and it worried her. If her father recognized her dress… She didn’t want to contemplate that possibility.
The doorbell shattered that worry. Almost immediately, someone banged against the wood without waiting.
Whitney jumped. Flynn came to his feet. The person pounded a second time.
“Wait here.”
“Flynn? Open the door or I’ll kick it in.”
Heart pounding, she tried to tell herself there was no reason to panic as she rose from her chair.
“What are you doing here?” Flynn greeted as he cracked open the door.
“If you’d answer your damn phone once in a while, I wouldn’t have to be here. You going to let me in?”
“No. This isn’t a good time.”
But the man facing him had already looked past his shoulder and spotted her. Features stamped with Flynn’s same dark good looks stared in obvious surprise. Whitney didn’t need an introduction to know this was one of Flynn’s brothers and she had a sinking feeling she knew which one.
“You have a date?”
“Frequently. Now get lost.”
But his brother continued to stare. A coughing fit seized her once more.
“I don’t believe it. I don’t damn well believe it.”
He pushed past Flynn and strode into the room.
“The entire police department is out looking for her and my own brother has Sleeping Beauty stashed at his place? No wonder you aren’t answering your phone.”
Flynn stepped in front of his brother and pressed a hand firmly against a chest as broad as his own.
“Get out.” Hard and flat, Flynn’s determined voice challenged him.
A flash of answering anger crossed his brother’s features. “You going to make me?”
The deadly soft tone filled with threat sent chills down her arms as she got the coughing under control again. Flynn didn’t back down an inch.
“If I have to.”
“Stop it!” she commanded, then ruined the order with more coughing.
Flynn was there to guide her back down on her chair. He held out the glass of water her fingers blindly sought. The tightness in her chest made it hard to draw a breath.
His hand soothed as it lightly rubbed her back. “Take it easy. My brother’s leaving.”
“No,
