started walking in that direction. Luke took a step after her, his hand on her arm. Before he knew it, she’d turned, neatly grabbing him and twisting his arm behind him.
It was nothing to him, though he was momentarily surprised. He’d spent enough time practicing various fighting styles that he easily slipped her grasp and tightened his around her, her arms immobilized as he trapped her against him.
“So, you didn’t forget everything I taught you,” he said against her ear.
“What? I don’t know what—”
“Stop it, okay? It’s me. Do me the favor of dropping the act when no one else is listening.”
He twisted her around to face him, and he was surprised to see her hand shake as she lifted it to her face.
“You really are crazy, aren’t you?” She backed away, her eyes darted to where the taxi driver waited, hitting the horn once. “You stay away from me.”
She was going to push this all the way. Fine.
Luke pressed in close, and her eyes widened. He’d always loved her eyes.
“Let’s see if I can jog your memory a different way.”
The kiss wasn’t meant to be kind or even sexy, but once he felt her against him, intention went out the window.
He held her to him until she relaxed, opened and started kissing him back. Blood rushed in his veins as he went deeper. He was hard, too, and he let her know it. She moaned into him as he pressed against her.
But as delicious as she was, he had a purpose. He paused only long enough to trail kisses down her neck. With his hand, he pulled the shoulder of her blouse away, nipping the soft skin there.
As he kissed her, he looked down at the curve of her shoulder blade.
Nothing.
To be sure, he slid his hand inside, felt her shudder against him. His astonishment cooled his ardor; his arousal and his anger were squelched by confusion.
It was pause enough for her to come to her senses, too, and she pushed away. He let her go, still shocked.
It wasn’t there. No tattoo, no scar or indication that anything had been removed. There was a small mole in the spot where the tattoo once was—something that could not be faked.
Turning back, he looked at her in confusion, and she looked back at him the same way. Her cheeks were flushed, lips bruised, hair a mess, her shirt still pulled from her shoulder. He wanted to kiss her again but shut down the impulse. She put her hand to her mouth.
“Oh, no!” she said, seeing the taxi leave.
His eyes traveled to a small spot on her chest, and he saw a cluster of freckles decorating the creamy skin above her left breast. Birthmark.
Nicky had no moles, no imperfections. No birthmarks. She never would have allowed them.
Vanessa bit her nails. Not terribly, but enough so that she didn’t have Nicky’s neatly manicured hands. It looked like a habit she’d had for a while. Luke had missed that in the jail cell.
This wasn’t her. It really wasn’t Nicky.
Shame and guilt gutted him as he looked at her. Luke started to speak, but she smothered some strangled sound and fled.
He couldn’t blame her, but neither could he let her go.
“Vanessa, wait,” he called after her.
He had to make sure that she was okay after what he’d done. She hailed another cab, running out into traffic to do so, and Luke didn’t catch her before she slammed the door shut and the car raced away.
He didn’t plan to let her off the hook yet. While she might not be Nicky—a realization that he was still dealing with—there was something going on. She was connected to Nicky somehow. That the two women looked so much alike couldn’t be sheer coincidence.
Luke hailed the next cab and paid the guy extra to step on it. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who thought that Vanessa Grant was really Nicole Brooks, and whoever else was after her wanted her dead. He owed it to her not to let that happen.
* * *
VANESSA WALKED into the hotel room and breathed a sigh of relief. It was pretty nice, and it even had a view of the Gulf of Mexico. Luckily, it was midsummer, which was not tourist season in Florida, so the hotels were not full and the rates were low. In the cab, she’d made some phone calls and verified with her insurance that they would cover an apartment or room rental for her until her house was assessed and rebuilt. Until then, this would do.
She’d also called the detective who said her car would now be caught up in evidence for a while, so she had to rent one through the hotel. Hopefully, she could get her car back sooner than later.
She’d picked up some inexpensive clothes at a store close to the hotel and had treated herself to her favorite seafood takeout.
She was starving.
A shower and getting dressed would have to wait—she still had some time before she had to be at the school. Digging into the delectable fried shrimp, potatoes and a side salad, Vanessa nearly moaned at how good it all tasted. Maybe it was true—a near-death experience made everything sweeter and more intense.
Like that kiss with Luke Berringer?
That had been intense. Strange, unexpected, a bit scary and the best kiss she’d ever had. Too bad it was with a crazy stalker man.
Not that she’d had tons of kisses, but she did her share of dating, and that man kissed like his life depended on it. Vanessa had responded simply because it felt so good. It shouldn’t have, but it did.
Still, what decent, sane man kissed a woman he didn’t know in the middle of a parking lot?
It was a keen reminder that this man, no matter what his credentials were, was not okay. Something was very wrong there, whether he had anything to do with the bombing or not. She wondered if she shouldn’t call the detective back and let him know what happened.
Though it would be hard to explain why she’d let him kiss her until things started getting too heated. Was there such a thing as post-traumatic kissing?
No, she’d keep it to herself, unless he came around again. If that happened, she would have to report him and hopefully the police would listen this time.
Finishing off her dinner, she headed for the shower, emerging refreshed and more energized. Until she looked in the mirror. Several small scratches covered her skin on her face and neck, and she had a dark bruise on her left shoulder and a smaller one on her chin. Her eye was lightly purple at the edge. How was she going to explain that?
After she was dressed, she stood at the table by the window to pick up her bag. She paused as something moved in the corner of her vision.
Looking down through a crack in the curtain, she saw him—or at least, she saw something. Someone. Was someone down there, watching her?
Shivers ran over