on him her most frigid glare.
“Look at this situation from his point of view. You’re his goddess, the love of his life. He needs an excuse to justify his own cowardice. Who do you want him to blame, me or your dad?”
“But the police—”
“He may very well be a sociopath and capable of lying convincingly to the police.” He freshened her drink with a splash of bourbon. “We can’t let him think for a second that he can control you with violence.”
Sickening visions of Pinky murdering her father turned her shaky inside.
“You can’t placate these nuts. You can’t let them take control. You have to push back, fight back. No amount of wishing makes them go away.”
“How am I supposed to fight back when I don’t even know who he is?”
“Don’t let him run me off.”
If it were only her own safety at risk, she would argue. She would accept the protection offered by the police and suffer Pinky’s harassment. But if Pinky could so blithely attempt to burn her to death, who knew what he’d do to her father. “I’m scared if we make him mad he’ll hurt the colonel.”
“I’ll keep him so busy he won’t even think about your dad. I promise.” He yawned mightily and covered his mouth with his hand. “Sorry.”
“You must be exhausted. I’ll show you to your room. It’s just down the hall.”
“I’m staying here.” He jerked a thumb at the door. “Rustle me up a blanket and share a few pillows. I’ll be fine on the floor.”
Awareness of her nakedness under the robe warmed her blood. She wished Daniel did look like Raymond Burr, preferably grossly overweight. “Is that necessary?”
“It is until we know for certain Pinky doesn’t have access to room keys.” He shifted on the chair and reached to his side. A fastener snapped. He placed a handgun on the table.
Her eyebrows raised. The colonel had taught all his children weapons safety and how to shoot. Still, the sight of such compact deadliness dismayed her. “A Luger 9 mm. Nice. Do you have a concealed carry permit?”
His sudden smile dazzled her. For a scant second she forgot Pinky and the handgun. Nothing mattered except the powerful warmth of his smile. If only he weren’t such a conceited jackass....
“The lady knows peashooters. I think I’m in love. And yes, I have a concealed carry permit. Who other than you has a key to this room?”
“My mother.”
“Is there a master key?”
She winced. “Yes.”
“Prepare a pallet then, woman. I’m your guard dog tonight.”
Chapter Four
At 5:00 a.m. on the dot Janine awakened. She glared at the clock. Around three in the morning she’d snapped wide awake. It had finally hit her—Pinky had tried to murder her. Shaking with chills despite the sweat suit she wore to bed, she’d spent the rest of the night hugging a pillow and listening for the beastly roar of flames. She’d finally drifted back to sleep, but habit awakened her. No amount of exhaustion would allow her to go back to sleep now.
Groggy and irritable, she tiptoed around in the dark so as not to disturb Daniel. By feel she selected slacks, a sweater and a blazer and carried them into the bathroom. She glumly studied her face in the mirror. The scratch on her head was reddened and inflamed. It hurt to touch it. No way would she consider putting makeup atop the wound. “Not so gorgeous now,” she muttered. She hoped Pinky got a good look at her “perfect” face today and felt bad about it.
After she showered, dried her hair and dressed, she opened the door a crack and peered out. She couldn’t see Daniel in the darkness. She wanted to let him sleep, but she had a resort to run.
“Too late to awaken me with a kiss.”
She choked back a scream. He turned on the table lamp. Seated with a foot on his knee and his hands clasped behind his neck, he grinned at her.
Despite heavy beard shadow and messy hair, he looked as if he’d enjoyed the sleep of innocents. Her grouchy mood darkened further. “I thought you were still asleep.”
“With you stomping around? For such a petite woman you sure do make a lot of noise. I could swear you don’t weigh more than one-twenty, but I guess you’re packing a lot more than that under your clothes.”
She chuffed a harsh breath. “I will have you know—” She shut her mouth, too late realizing he teased her.
He dropped his foot to the floor and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “We’re both early risers. We have a lot in common.”
“We have nothing in common.” She looked pointedly at her watch. “I have work to do. If you’re going to play bodyguard, you have exactly fifteen minutes to grab a shower.”
He snatched up his bag and scooted into the bathroom. She gathered the blankets and pillows off the floor. She pressed a pillow to her nose. It smelled of soap and shampoo, and it roused memories of sex. She groaned and tossed the pillow onto the bed. Celibate for years, she usually didn’t think about sex. She especially didn’t want to think about sex in conjunction with Daniel Tucker.
He was ready to go in ten minutes.
Downstairs the resort staff had already swung into high gear for another busy day. Clanging, banging, rattling and Chef’s temperamental shouting emerged from the kitchen along with the aroma of baking bread and roasting meats. Housekeepers loaded up carts with cleaning supplies. Janine wondered which one of them had tried to burn her to death in a stinky old garage. Everyone looked guilty.
She stopped in the kitchen to fill a carafe with coffee before she and Daniel went to her office. Her phone began ringing before she had a chance to sit down. Maintenance wanted her approval to begin cleaning up the burn site. A reporter wanted details about the fire. Guest services needed advice about what to tell guests who were upset about the rumors of arson. Between calls she logged invoices into the computer. Daniel sat quietly on a small sofa, moving only to refill her coffee cup. She appreciated his silence.
A knock startled her. Hot coffee splashed her hand and she cursed under her breath. She noticed Daniel sliding a hand over the bulge of the holster on his hip. She called, “Come in.”
A man showed a badge and introduced himself as Walt Helmsley, an investigator with the state police. Another man materialized in the doorway behind the investigator. Glad to see the sheriffs department uniform and a friendly face, Janine smiled in welcome.
“Daniel Tucker,” she said, “Mr. Helmsley and Sergeant Mike Downes.” She diverted her telephone calls to voice mail. “Gentleman, I’ve hired Mr. Tucker to help me find the stalker. I can’t recall everyone I talked to yesterday. Do you know about Pinky?”
“The sheriff briefed us,” Mike said. His expression radiated concern. As an old friend of the family, the deputy sheriff had a personal stake in what happened at Elk River. “I want to hear it from you. Start over from the beginning.”
