Free Prodigal Son by Debra Mullins Page A

out of the tub, her movements stiff from her damp jeans. He assisted with a hand on her elbow, which she promptly shook off as soon as she had gained her footing. “I want to know who you think you are to come to my room uninvited and—”
    “You did invite me.”
    She gave him a get-real look. “I would have remembered if I’d invited you.”
    “I called you from the lobby to tell you I had a lead on Danny. You told me to come up.”
    “I would remember that.” She stormed past him, soggy sneakers slapping against the tiled floor.
    He followed her into the bedroom. “So what do you remember?”
    She went to the mirrored closet doors and looked at her reflection. Great, she looked like a bedraggled puppy. Wrinkling her nose, she tugged the band from her ponytail, wincing as the elastic snagged in the wet strands. “I fell asleep at Danny’s place and came back here this morning.” Holding the towel one-handed, she combed her fingers through her hair, then went over to the bureau to grab her brush. Going back to the mirror, she began to pull it through the damp tangles. “I got some coffee in the lobby and came back up here.” She stilled as memory stirred.
    “What is it?” He came up behind her. “What do you remember?”
    “Someone had been here.” She lowered the hairbrush. “Someone had torn the place apart.” She frowned as she centered on the bed’s reflection. “Why is my suitcase out?”
    “Cara.” He met her gaze in the mirror, his entire demeanor concerned yet in control. His calm soothed her. “You saw the place had been trashed. Then what?”
    “I called security.” She frowned as she tried to remember. “Yeah, I did. And some guys came up. That Gray guy and another guy in a uniform.”
    “Then what?”
    “I … Oh, my God, I don’t remember.” Just like the limo ride. Just like the hotel room . She spun to face him, her pretense of calm shattering like ice. He stood only inches away, a warm, steady rock in the midst of turmoil. So appealing. With one step she could be in his arms, let him make it all go away.
    No. She didn’t know him, and it wouldn’t be right to seek comfort there—though whenever she looked into those amazing blue eyes, her instincts screamed she could trust him. But could she trust her instincts?
    No way. Not when she couldn’t even remember the last five minutes. Warren had taught her what happened when you trusted too fast, too soon. You’re on your own, McGaffigan.
    She took a deep breath. “Look, I’m drenched. Why don’t you wait in the sitting room while I get changed, okay? Maybe something will come to me while I’m getting dressed.”
    “Are you sure?”
    The look he gave her said he knew how rattled she was, despite her attempt at cool, calm, and collected. She appreciated his perception and at the same time, resented it.
    “I’m sure I really want to get out of these wet clothes.” She tried a smile, knew that she failed but pretended anyway. “Please, wait outside.”
    He looked deeply into her eyes, as if he could see everything she was trying to hide. A thrill of feminine appreciation streaked through her—what woman wouldn’t want to be studied so intently? But she was trying to keep from total meltdown here, and his keen examination poked at her fragile pretense of self-control.
    “Please,” she said again, hating the tiny break in her voice.
    He gave a short nod and turned toward the door. “I’ll be right out here, Cara. If you need anything at all, I’ll be here.” He opened the door and glanced back, his hand on the knob. “I mean that. Okay?”
    She nodded. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
    He nodded again and left, shutting the door behind him.
    For a minute she wanted to run after him, but vulnerability was a luxury she couldn’t afford right now. Her gut was telling her to trust him, but too much weird stuff had happened since she’d arrived in Vegas. What if she relaxed her guard with the wrong person? She was a