White Lies (13 page)

He scooped her into his arms and carried her out of the narrow confines of the entryway. He dropped her lightly onto the bed and put his hand on the buckle of his belt. Clare looked up at him with sultry welcome, lips parted in anticipation.

A series of sharp raps on the door reverberated through the room. Jake spun around. The sexual tension that had hardened every muscle in his body was instantly transmuted into another kind of tension via the dark, dangerous alchemy that linked sex and violence. In a heartbeat he had gone from wanting to claim his woman to wanting to protect her.

Talk about overreacting, he thought.

“If that’s the guy from the room next door, I’ve got a few words of advice for him,” he said.

“Wait,” Clare whispered. “I’ll handle this.” She raised her voice. “Who is it?”

“Management.” The familiar voice of the night clerk boomed loudly through the door. “Sorry to disturb you, Miss Lancaster, but we had a report that a second party was seen entering your room. And, uh, well, there’s a rule. It says that only the person who is legally registered in the room can occupy it. So, unless you, uh, want to pay an additional fee and register that guy who’s in there with you, I’m going to have to ask your guest to leave.”

“Well,” Clare murmured. “This is certainly one of life’s more embarrassing little moments.” She raised her voice again. “There’s been a misunderstanding. Just a second.”

She got to her feet, staggered, and would have toppled over if Jake hadn’t caught her. She looked down and noticed her missing shoe. “I knew I shouldn’t have bought these sandals.”

“For what it’s worth,” Jake said, zipping up the dress, “I like them.”

“Easy for you to say. You don’t have to wear them.”

She removed the remaining shoe and walked, barefoot, across the room. She paused, one hand on the door, and waited impatiently for Jake to finish buttoning his shirt.

He shoved the shirttails back inside the waistband of his trousers and spread his hands in a voilŕ gesture.

She jerked the door open and glared at the night clerk. “My business associate was concerned about the security in this room. He wanted to check it out before he left.”

It was a good line, Jake thought, amused. And she had delivered it with just the right amount of irritated arrogance. She might have got away with it, too, if it hadn’t been for the fact that, from her shoeless feet to her rumpled dress and tousled hair, she radiated the unmistakable aura of a woman who had just been thoroughly kissed.

“Right.” The night clerk looked her up and down and then gave Jake another smirk. “Security check.”

Jake looked at him. “I’m sure you’re aware that the security lock on the sliding glass door is broken.”

The clerk frowned. “Nobody reported any broken lock.”

“I’m reporting it now,” Jake said.

Clare folded her arms and raised her eyes to the ceiling.

The clerk moved hesitantly into the room, taking in the sight of the rumpled bedspread and the high-heeled sandals on the threadbare carpet. He fiddled with the sliding glass door a couple of times. There was a click as the lock slid into place.

The clerk regarded Jake with a triumphant expression. “The lock works just fine.”

“Yeah?” Jake shook his head. “I’ll be damned. Must have been a case of operator error.” He turned to Clare. “Something tells me it’s time for me to go.”

She smiled wryly. “I think so, yes.”

“I’ll call you in the morning.”

Laughter gleamed in her eyes. “They always say that.”

“I don’t always say it. But when I do, I mean it.”

He touched the side of her cheek, bent his head slightly and kissed her. It wasn’t a proper good night kiss. It was a message to the night clerk.The lady is mine.

When he raised his head he saw the sparkle of amused irritation in Clare’s eyes. She understood the message that was being sent, too.

He went out into the hall and waited for the clerk to join him. Clare closed the door firmly behind them.

Jake started down the stairs. The clerk hurried to catch up.

“I’m just doing my job,” the clerk said apologetically. “No unregistered guests in the rooms. That’s the rule.”

“And an excellent rule it is.”

The door to room 208 opened again. This time the bald-headed man peered out. His gaze went first to Clare’s door. But when he saw Jake he hurriedly ducked back inside his room.

“I think I can guess where the complaints came from,” Jake said to the clerk.

“The wife in two-oh-eight is a little on the uptight side.”

Jake went down the stairs, thinking about the two things that had been bothering him all evening. The first was Clare’s effort to ensure that everyone in Stone Canyon with the exception of himself and Elizabeth believed that she was staying out at the airport. The second was the serious scare she had received in the mall parking garage that afternoon.

Taken independently, neither fact was enough to generate a great deal of concern, he thought. There were reasonable explanations for each. After witnessing Myra’s obvious tension and Valerie’s out-of-control rage at the cocktail party the night before, he could understand why Clare didn’t want to advertise the address of her motel. Valerie, at least, was quite capable of showing up unannounced and causing a scene.

As for the incident in the garage, that could be explained away easily enough by an inattentive driver or a young punk bent on frightening a woman alone.

But the combination of the two made him uneasy. When he added in the fact that the last time Clare was in town she had discovered a dead body, he got downright edgy.

He checked his watch when he reached the lobby. It was nearly one o’clock in the morning. Time for an executive decision.

“You can check me in,” he said to the clerk. “I want room two-twelve if it’s available.”

“Huh?”

“The room on the other side of Miss Lancaster’s room. Is it available?”

“Well, yeah, I guess so, but—”

“I’ll take it.”

“Gee, I don’t know. This is kind of an unusual situation.”

“You got any problems registering a paying guest?”

“Well, when you put it like that—”

She had changed into her nightgown and was pulling back the covers on the bed when she heard him come back down the hall. She knew it was Jake. There was an unmistakable resonance to his long, prowling stride that reverberated through the cheap floorboards.

Startled, she hurried to the door and opened it a couple inches. She was in time to see Jake slide a key into the lock of the adjoining room. He had a small leather duffel bag in one hand.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded in a loud whisper.

“Spending the night in a third-rate motel.” He got the door to his room open and looked at her. “Not my first choice but I hear the place is clean.”

“Jake, you can’t be serious.”

“Trust me, I’m serious. See you in the morning.” He started to enter the room.

Her senses verified the statement. Okay, so he was serious.

She leaned a little farther out into the hall, struggling to conceal her nightgown-clad body with the door.

“Wait,” she said urgently. “What is this all about?”

He propped one shoulder against the wall, folded his arms across his chest and regarded her with a puzzled frown.

“I don’t like the idea of you staying here,” he said. “You refuse to move. Therefore I’ve got no choice but to stay here, too.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Well, there is one other option.”

“What’s that, for heaven’s sake?”

“I could spend the night in your room instead of this one but something tells me the mood has been shattered.”

She blushed. He was right. Now that the dazzling energy of passion had faded to more manageable levels, she had come back to her senses. She needed to think about what was going on here. Wild flings with men she had known for only a couple of days were not her style. She had never been into one-night stands. When you were the product of one, you thought twice—make that three or four times—before you took that kind of risk. In addition, she was definitely not accustomed to being out of control the way she had been a few minutes before.

Yes, she certainly needed time to contemplate events.

“Very perceptive of you,” she said. She frowned at the duffel bag. “Do you always keep an overnight kit packed in your car?”

“I was a Boy Scout. I take that ‘Be prepared’ stuff seriously.”

She was abruptly incensed. “You do this kind of thing a lot?”

“Are you kidding?” He managed to look highly offended. “I haven’t stayed in a low-rent joint like this since I got out of college.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Get some sleep, Clare. I’ll treat you to breakfast in the morning.”

“One more question.”

He waited.

She cleared her throat and lowered her voice. “So, is it true that hunters can see like cats and owls in the dark or is that just part of the legend?”

His smile was slow and wicked. “Stick around, lady. Maybe one of these days I’ll tell you the truth.”

He went inside his room and closed the door.

She shut her own door, snapped the lock into place and sagged back against the wooden panels. She spent a few minutes trying to figure out why Jake was so determined to keep an eye on her tonight. Surely he wasn’t that worried about her choice of lodging. The Desert Dawn wasn’t exactly a five-star resort but it was not a seedy flophouse, either, in spite of what appeared to be the general consensus of opinion.

He had picked up on her uneasiness, she thought. The hunter in him had no doubt detected her underlying fear. He hadn’t pushed her for an explanation she was not ready to give. Instead he had decided to remain close in case she needed protection.

No man had ever done anything that romantic for her in her entire life. No man had ever tried to make her feel safe.

She went back to bed and lay there quietly for a time, listening to the faint sounds of movement that emanated through the thin wall that separated her room from Jake’s.

She had a lot of questions about Jake Salter and very few answers. But one thing was certain. She would sleep a lot more soundly tonight than she had last night knowing he was right next door.

“You’re joking.” Elizabeth removed the chilled herbal eye mask and turned her head to look at Clare. “Jake Salter cooked dinner for you?”

“Uh-huh.” Clare had already removed her eye mask. The weight of the thing together with the enforced darkness had made her feel claustrophobic. “What’s more, I gotta tell you, the man can cook. Says it relaxes him.”

“Who knew?” Elizabeth shook her head in amazement and replaced the eye mask. “Jake’s an original, that’s for sure.”

“He certainly is different from any man I’ve ever met,” Clare conceded. “And not just because he can cook. I dated a chef once. It wasn’t the same thing at all.”

She and Elizabeth were ensconced side by side on twin recliners in the spa’s serene Contemplation Room. The space served as a waiting area for clients between treatments. The other four recliners were vacant at the moment, the occupants having been led away by quiet, low-voiced attendants.

The ceiling was a rotunda lit with recessed lights and painted with a nighttime sky. Tiny “stars” twinkled overhead. New Agey music emanated from hidden speakers. The scent of herbal tea wafted through the air.

They had been given plush robes and flip-flops to wear while they went through the various spa therapy sessions. Thus far they had each experienced the steam room and the whole body massage. Next on the agenda for Clare was a trip to the Tropical Experience Chamber. She was looking forward to that, she thought. When you were in the desert anything that involved water sounded good.

“So what happened after dinner?” Elizabeth asked.

“He took me back to my motel.”

“Does he think it’s a dump, like I do?”

“I don’t recall that he used the word ‘dump,’ but he did not approve,” Clare said. “There was also, I regret to say, a slight misunderstanding with some of the other guests.”

Elizabeth yanked the mask off again. “What sort of misunderstanding?”

“When Jake walked me to my room my neighbors next door concluded that I was a call girl entertaining a client.”

Elizabeth’s eyes widened. Then she started to giggle. “I don’t believe it. You? A call girl? You haven’t had a real date in six months.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Until last night, that is,” Elizabeth finished on a thoughtful note. “So? What’s the bottom line here? Did Jake make a pass?”

“As a matter of fact—”

“Oh, my God. Hedid make a pass. Wow. That’s even more amazing than your neighbors thinking you’re a call girl.”

“Why?”

“I told you, he seems so ordinary. Boring, even. A nice guy, I’m sure, but sort of monkish or something.”

“I don’t think he’d make a good monk,” Clare said judiciously.

Elizabeth chuckled. “Obviously you have swept Mr. Salter off his feet.”

“Something tells me Jake doesn’t get swept anywhere he doesn’t want to go.”

“Okay, I can’t stand it any longer,” Elizabeth said. “I have to know. Did you and Jake spend the night together?”

“No. I slept alone.”

“Your idea or his?”

“The manager’s, actually. As I told you, there were complaints from the neighbors. Jake was asked to leave my room.”

Elizabeth slapped a palm over her mouth to stifle her laughter. “I don’t believe it. You? And Jake? Ohmygod.”

“Believe it.”

“Amazing.” Elizabeth’s smile faded. “By the way, on a less amusing subject, I talked to Mom last night. Seems Dad told her about his plans to establish a foundation and put you in charge of it right after he talked to you.”

“How did she take the news?”

“Not well, I’m afraid.”

“She’s probably afraid a large endowment will impact the size of the inheritance you and Matt receive. She’s right.”

“I don’t think that’s the only thing that’s bothering her,” Elizabeth replied.

Clare sighed. “She’s also worried that I’ll take the job Archer is offering me and that it will have the effect of bringing me more frequently into the family circle. She’s probably suffering horrifying visions of me showing up at Thanksgiving and Christmas.”