The Rebel Tycoon's Outrageous Proposal. Abby Gaines

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The Rebel Tycoon's Outrageous Proposal - Abby Gaines Mills & Boon Superromance

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moon provided almost as much illumination as the lamp had. As he prepared to exit through the window, a scratching sound froze him in place. Was it inside? A cat, maybe? After a moment he heard it again. He stepped out of the bedroom into the hallway, then moved to the top of the stairs.

      The sudden wail of a burglar alarm almost sent him into cardiac arrest.

      “Damn.” Jared raced back into the bedroom, picked up his load and headed out the window. Clambering down the fire escape was much faster than his ascent—every second he expected to be confronted by an angry neighbor or an unusually vigilant security company, the kind a woman like Holly would hire.

      Holly’s back gate wasn’t locked from the inside, thank goodness. He sprinted across the communal area, praying all the way that the gate to the road would have a release button, rather than another card swipe. It did.

      He threw the bundle into the car, hurled himself in after it and drove off, remembering to slow down as he hit the arterial road. Two hundred yards later, a security company vehicle passed him going the other way. A half mile farther on, a police car passed, lights flashing but siren off out of respect for the quality neighborhood.

      The blood pounding in his ears, Jared drove all the way home right on the speed limit. He must be getting old.

      BECAUSE SHE’D BEEN wide-awake since before six o’clock, contemplating her first day at Harding Corp with mingled dread and anticipation, Holly was first to the front door when the pounding started at six forty-five.

      “Quiet,” she muttered as she scrambled for the dead bolt key that, to AnnaMae’s amusement, she’d hidden under the clay pot that held her friend’s umbrellas. “You’ll wake the neighbors.”

      She glared at the man on the doorstep. “Special Agent Crook. How are you this morning?” A thought struck her. “Is it Dave? Have you found him?”

      He gave her a peculiar look, as if he didn’t believe Dave actually existed. “Can I come in?”

      That being a purely rhetorical question, Holly stepped back and tugged AnnaMae’s tight spare robe, a satin concoction with a delicate floral pattern, closer around her. She followed Crook into the living room.

      “Where were you at eleven o’clock last night?” he asked, accepting her offer of a seat.

      “Right here, listening to a David Gray CD and having a cup of coffee with my roommate while my…blouse soaked in the tub,” she said with careful precision that nonetheless omitted to mention she’d also washed her underwear.

      “I’ll need to confirm that with your roommate.”

      “I can vouch for her,” AnnaMae said from the doorway. “She came in at ten-thirty, which I know because I asked her to wait a moment while my TV show finished. Then we had coffee, as Holly said. We both went to bed at eleven-thirty.”

      “Where were you before you came home?” he asked.

      “I had dinner at the Green Room with a client,” Holly said. “Is this about Dave? Is he all right?”

      “Someone broke into your condo last night.” Crook rolled his eyes when she gasped. “Your alarm went off at eleven. The security company got there five minutes later, but whoever did it was long gone. It doesn’t appear anything was taken—TV, DVD and so on. I need to know if you had any valuables.”

      She shook her head. “Nothing, since you confiscated my laptop. Is there any damage?”

      He ignored the question. “Did you keep any work files at home that someone might have tried to retrieve for you?”

      “You think I organized someone to break into my own home?” Appalled, she stared at him. “I thought you already searched the place.”

      “We did. We cleaned out your home office.”

      She winced.

      “But maybe there’s a safe we didn’t find.” He scowled at her. “We will find it, so you might as well tell me now.”

      “There’s no safe.” Holly was still trying to absorb the news. “It must have been kids fooling around. How did they get in?”

      “They broke an upstairs window, managed to get it open.”

      “I always lock my windows and hide the key.”

      Crook had the grace to look shamefaced. “One of our guys left the key in the lock.”

      “I’ll expect you to compensate me for any loss or damage,” Holly said, outrage overriding her instinctive respect for an officer of the law.

      Crook grunted, a sound that could have meant either yes or no. Or more likely, Get off my back, lady. He hauled himself up off the sofa. “Call me if you think of anything else that might be relevant. We’ll dust for fingerprints this morning.” He looked her in the eye. “We don’t think this was kids, Ms. Stephens. We think this is about whatever you’re mixed up in.”

      When he’d gone, Holly sank into the spot he’d vacated on the couch. “Can things get any worse?”

      “You need coffee.” Her friend bustled out of the room.

      Holly shut her eyes, clamped a hand to her forehead to ward off an incipient headache. She breathed deeply—in, out, in, out. A tap-tapping at the window jolted her out of her attempted trance. She screamed, and AnnaMae came running.

      “What is it?”

      Holly pointed a trembling finger at the window where a stick topped with a white lace-and-chiffon bra tapped on the pane.

      A minute later she snatched her bra off the end of the stick that Jared proffered from the living room doorway.

      “Where did you get this?” She clutched the bra to her chest, then realized how suggestive that looked. She whipped it behind her back. “That’s my bag.”

      “Nothing wrong with your eyesight.” He advanced into the room and dropped the canvas overnight bag. “You’ll find a few of your things in there.”

      “It was you! You broke into my home last night—for a panty raid?” She heard the beginnings of a shriek in her voice and clenched her teeth.

      Uninvited, Jared sat on the couch. AnnaMae, agog with curiosity, propelled Holly to an armchair. She was about to take the space next to Jared herself, but Holly’s glare deterred her. With visible reluctance, she left the room.

      “You needed some clothes. I got them,” he said.

      She’d have to be stupid to believe he’d done it to help her.

      “No need to thank me. The look on your face when I knocked on the window was all the reward I need.”

      That was the real reason. He’d derived puerile pleasure from her embarrassment. “How dare you break in—that place is a crime scene.”

      He raised an eyebrow. “And you had me convinced you’re innocent.”

      “You know what I mean. The FBI taped it off. And how did

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