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Guilty as Sin (Sinful, Montana Book 1) by Rosalind James (15)

 

 

You could say that Lily confused him. She’d wanted him to kiss her. She’d wanted more than that. You couldn’t miss those signals. So why had she pulled back?

Because she had issues, that was why. The last thing he needed was a woman with issues. He had enough issues for two. He’d get Lily’s help in sending a not-interested message to his mystery admirer, and after that? Since he’d clearly arrived back in the land of the living, he’d find himself a cool, competent brunette who wasn’t in the market for a Meaningful Relationship. He’d forget the skittish blonde goatherds whose whole life said, “Traditional!” and look for his bloody type.

He set it aside, went for a run to clear his head and work out some of the tension in his supercharged body, then hopped into the ute with Tobias and headed down the mountain toward the police station. He felt like a wanker doing it, but Lily had been right. If he had to deal with his stalker, it might not end up looking good.

How did she know so much about stalkers? And what woman would sit in her kitchen, listen to a man saying, “I was a killer,” and decide on another cup of coffee instead of sprinting for the door?

No woman he knew.

Because she’d had a boyfriend who was a cop? Because she was attracted to dangerous men?

Yes. Or no. Attracted, but not enough.

His visit to the police station didn’t exactly ease his mind. The cop, whose name tag proclaimed him to be Sergeant Worthington, didn’t look nearly as impressed with the evidence as Lily had. “You say you write books, sir,” he said, eyeing the blindfold, thong, and printouts of the pictures with what Jace could swear was a not-entirely-professional eye. “Successful books?”

Jace leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. He didn’t care for this bloke’s tone. He’d figured the cops would laugh at a man being stalked, and he’d been right. “Yeah.”

“Uh-huh. This kind of thing ever happen before?” The sergeant rifled through the pictures again. “Women soliciting you?”

“Yes. Of course. Emails, invitations to meet them. Which I ignore,” he added, in case the cop was under the impression he was a dipstick.

“Sure about that?” Worthington asked, looking up from the printouts with what was apparently meant to be a keen stare. “Even if they send pictures like this?”

“You’re joking. Yeah, I get nudes. Sometimes including names and phone numbers. Why a woman would do that, I have no idea. Some women write to serial killers, too. And if I wanted to have dodgy sex with some girl who’s probably mad as a meat axe, I’d give them a ring. But as I don’t, I don’t. And this time? These things were sent to my home. Not just sent. Delivered.”

He could tell the cop wanted to say, Sounds like a problem worth having. At least he restrained himself that much. “Joined any online dating sites recently?” he asked instead. “Been swiping right, picking up women in bars? I wouldn’t call this a dedicated reader wanting to do her book report on you. I’d call it a love affair gone wrong, or a hookup who’s decided you’re her prince. There are some crazies out there.”

“Thanks,” Jace said. “That’s helpful. And no. I was married until I bought my house here six months ago. It’s not my ex, and I haven’t been involved with anyone since.”

The cop looked at him with a jaundiced eye. Yeah, right, he didn’t have to say. “Sure about the ex? When it comes to crazy women, the ex is the craziest every time.”

“She’s not in the area, and she’s got somebody new anyway.” And she wouldn’t care enough. “It’s not her.”

“Then it sure looks like somebody you didn’t call back. I’d suggest you think harder. A woman stalking a stranger? I’m not saying it’s impossible, but I’ve never heard of it.”

“I’ve heard of it,” Jace said, standing up. “Because I did some research. I recommend it. You can believe me or not. Doesn’t matter to me. I don’t know what you could do anyway. But in case she comes after me again or takes this further, I want it on the record.” In case I have to hurt her, he didn’t say. Lily had got that. Why couldn’t this drongo?

“Sir,” the cop said with a patience that rubbed at Jace’s already-abused nerves, “we’re here to help. Unfortunately, we don’t have the resources to protect you at all times against this person. Please report any further attempts to contact you, and if you do discover her identity, call and tell us. I’d strongly suggest applying for an Order of Protection if that happens. You can get the form online, and there’s no cost to you in a case of stalking.”

“Yeah,” Jace said. “That works a treat, I’m sure. If she comes after me, I’ll wave my bit of paper at her. If you want all that lot, the undies and letters, you can keep it. If you don’t, chuck it. I took photos, and I’m not having it in my house.”

He walked out feeling less than cheerful. And when he got Lily’s text, less cheerful than that.

I’m heading out to the lake with Brett Hunter after I close, she’d written. Pick me up at 6 instead?

Who the hell was Brett Hunter? And what had been going on with her “I’m so scared” performance this morning? Had it all been an act?

No question. He needed that cool brunette.

 

 

He thought about cancelling, of course. But he didn’t. He and Lily were both clear that there was nothing between them, and she was the only one other than Sergeant Worthless who knew about his stalker. He might regret sharing that with her, but he’d done it. Which made her the perfect person to help him.

At six o’clock, he parked outside her shop, approached, and knocked twice. The lights were on, but the sign on the door was flipped to Closed, and the door was locked. And Lily was standing by the till with the bloke who’d been in the day before. The one she’d dismissed the same way she’d dismissed Jace.

It’s a free country, she’d said to him, and I haven’t banned you. Yet. But my answer will still be the same.

Her answer hadn’t been the same, though, because here the bastard was again, standing by the counter in his black trousers and his perfect hair, chatting Lily up. After he’d taken her to the lake, because this had to be Brett Hunter.

Lily came to the door, turned the lock, and let Jace inside with a “Hi.” She looked pleased to see him, he’d swear. If she were one of those women who wanted men to fight over her, though, she’d have to look someplace else.

Then why are you here? And why are your arms folded?

Habit, that was all. “Evening,” he said to the suave bloke, who looked as amused as he had yesterday, like he loved playing games with blondes. Probably true.

“Brett Hunter,” the bloke said, extending his hand. “Good to meet you.”

“Jace Blackstone.” Jace measured the force of Hunter’s handshake. Not over the top, which unfortunately meant that Jace wasn’t allowed to crush his hand.

Hunter turned to Lily and said, “I’ll leave you with that. Thanks for giving me a chance to make my pitch. I’d be happy to discuss it again. Over dinner?”

“I’m busy tonight,” she said. “I’ll let you know. But if I say no—my no means no, and that’s it.”

Hunter lost not one bit of his good humor. “Of course it does. I can hardly force you, can I? But you can’t blame me for trying.” He glanced at Jace again and said, “Good to meet you.”

Jace could swear Hunter was contemplating putting his hands on Lily and kissing her cheek. If he did, he was going to get blocked. At a minimum. Before it could happen—any of it—Lily put out her hand, said, “Thank you,” shook Hunter’s once, dropped it, and said, “I’ll let you out.”

After she did, she turned from the door and asked Jace, “Ready to go?” And then she looked at him more closely and her expression changed. She still had one hand on the door handle, but now, she removed it, squared off to him, and said, “Whatever that’s about, I’m telling myself that unless you’re actually insane, you’d have killed me at my nice remote cabin in the woods instead of waiting until you’re in full view of Main Street. You had a dog this morning. I’ll bet you had a weapon, too.”

“What?” He stared at her, then started to smile. “Bloody hell, but you’re aggravating. I wasn’t going to kill you. I was just jealous of your new boyfriend. And of course I had a weapon. I always have a weapon.”

She took in his gym shorts, T-shirt, and trainers, then gave him a slow, sweet smile. After that, she put a hand on the skirt of her dress and pulled the hem up a bare inch, like that would excite him. A simpler dress today, a green thing printed with flowers, with a button front and a little flash of calf and knee at the bottom, which was pretty but not nearly as fantasy-worthy as the one you could see through.

He changed his mind in the next moment, because she shook her hair back, dropped her left hand casually onto the top button of her dress, and slowly unfastened it. The V-shaped neckline wasn’t all that high, and just like that, Jace was looking at pale cleavage.

“Threat assessment?” she asked sweetly.

“Uh… what?”

She popped another button, the dress gapped some more, and more cleavage came into view, along with some black lace. Some sheer black lace. At the same time, her right hand began inching her skirt up higher.

Bloody hell. She had her fingers on that third button, and he got a flash of her velvet-curtained dressing room and thought, Oh, hell, yeah. Right up against the wall. Her cheek resting on her raised forearm, her breath coming loud as he hauled her hips in from behind. That would do it. Her skirt was all the way up her thigh, and he was looking at more black lace. A black garter, in fact, all six inches wide of it.

He took a step toward her, and she pulled the skirt up another few inches and said, “How about now?”

He stopped. A strip of black lace running up her thigh, the kind of garter belt you dreamed about. She’d raised that skirt all the way up, and if she was wearing anything else under there, he couldn’t see it.

Unfortunately, there was a business-sized revolver stuck into that garter belt. Which was a thigh holster.

“I win,” she said, letting her skirt fall. “So you know.” Then she smiled at him again. “Want to go to the gym?”

 

 

Paige didn’t glance at the front of the store. She preferred not to think about the display she’d just put on for Sinful’s sparse evening foot traffic. She’d won, that was the important thing.

“Right,” Jace said, sounding a little hoarse. “I’m gobsmacked.”

She buttoned her dress up, one slow fastening at a time, and he watched. “I’m hoping that’s a good thing.”

“Stunned,” he said. “Surprised. And pretty bloody disappointed, too.” She laughed, and after a moment, a grin split his bearded face. “Yeah,” he said. “You could put it that way. Want to tell me why you’re carrying a concealed weapon?”

“Because,” she said, going for her pink tote behind the counter and feeling less off-balance than she had all day, “I’m getting pressure to sell my land. You aren’t the only one who’s had threatening messages. And Brett Hunter wants to buy it.”

“Oh. Well, bugger me.”

“Possibly,” she said. “I think that’s dirty, though.”

“Definitely.” He waited while she turned off the lights, then followed her out the door and waited while she locked up. “Did he know you were armed?”

“No,” she said. “Nobody but you.”

“I like the way that sounds. But tell me about these threats. And about Hunter.” He pressed the button to unlock his pickup, which was exactly the sort of uncompromising black workhorse she’d have expected him to drive, but instead of hopping in on the driver’s side, he went ahead of her and opened her door.

“This is very chivalrous of you,” she said, remembering at the last minute to tuck the folds of her skirt inside.

“I know,” he said. “Unusual.” And slammed the door.

By the time he came around the truck and climbed in on his side, unfortunately, she was getting a few regrets. “So you know,” she said, “I’m not flirting.”

“No,” he said gravely, pulling out of the spot, swinging a tight U-turn, and heading for the gym. The sun was low, with twilight just around the corner, and he flipped on his lights. “I see that. Merely displaying your weaponry.”

“It worked. Got you at a disadvantage.”

“Too right. Tell me about the threats. And about Hunter.”

She sighed. “You’re hard to sidetrack.”

He glanced across at her, then back at the road. Unfortunately, they were already at the gym. “I am,” he said, pulling into the lot and a parking space, turning off the engine, but making no attempt to get out of the truck. “So tell me.”

She hesitated, still. Why had she showed him? Why had she told him?

Because in another week, she’d be gone and Lily would be here alone. And somebody needed to know. Somebody she trusted. Just in case. “Not like you,” she finally said. “Not the overt threats. But L— I’ve been getting pressure to sell my place to Hunter for the new ski area he wants to build, since it’s the last big parcel before you get to the ski runs, and it’s good for cross-country skiing. And this morning, I got a text. It just said, ‘Leave,’ which isn’t much. But I couldn’t trace it, and it didn’t give me a good feeling. It was probably from a burner phone. Anonymous. The kind you buy at Walmart.”

“I know what a burner phone is.” His jaw was set into those lines again. “Pressure? Does that mean you don’t want to sell?”

“Yes. But some people don’t like to take no for an answer.”

“I’m surprised, then, that you’d—what? Go out with Hunter? I’d have thought it’s the same thing as my stalker. Say no once, then keep saying it. If you engage, they win. They win once, they think they can win again. Massive and overpowering force, that’s what you want. No fair fights.”

“Gee,” she said, “you must be fun to live with.”

“Don’t change the subject.”

How was she going to explain this when the real answer was, “I wanted to assess the threat to my sister?” With an “as much truth as possible” approach, she decided. “I needed to see whether that pressure—beyond the aboveboard part of it—was coming from Hunter or from somebody else.”

“And you’re that confident you can tell?”

“Yes.”

He stared at her some more, and she met his gaze. “And what did you decide?” he asked.

“That it probably wasn’t him. He’s offered me a parcel trade before, and today he offered a better one. He said that was his best offer. Take it or leave it. And I think it probably is. I asked every question I could think of—water, sewer, electric, gas, flooding—and told him I’d be checking, and he didn’t seem fazed. Of course, he could be having somebody else apply the pressure, while he keeps his hands conveniently clean.”

“It’s a good offer, then?”

“Well, yes. It is. Lakefront. And he offered to move the house. That one surprised me.”

“Probably because it’s cheaper than building you another one and tearing yours down.”

Paige nearly winced at the thought of Lily’s reaction to seeing her pretty cottage demolished. “Probably.”

“So how much of the problem is the decision between the two places,” he said, “and how much is the pressure? Not wanting to let the bastards win?”

“Good question.”

“What do you want to do? If there weren’t any pressure?”

“I don’t know.” She didn’t know what Lily wanted. Or rather, she did. Lily loved her place. “I think I want to stay.”

“Then you should stay. Hunter will get over it. It’s business, not his granny’s dying wish.”

“You’re right. But we’re here for you, not me. Let’s go.”

It was too confusing being two people. Especially when one of those people was focusing on the mission, and the other one wanted nothing more than to beckon a hard man back into a fitting room, then see what he’d do about it.

She’d bet he’d do plenty.

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