“But we said—”
He caressed her cheek, with the power of dissolving her worries. “One night. The night isn’t over.” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles, sending little thrills of awareness up her arm and through her body. Crap. If he kept at it, memories from tonight wouldn’t be over for a very long time.
Chapter Five
Brooks glanced at his computer screen. When he’d woken up in the morning, Alexa was no longer in his bed. He went to his home office after breakfast. Memories of their night together, of her sexy body entangled with his, swarmed in his head. Also, her revelation about her past.
He typed into the search engine, desperate to know if the story she told him was true. Within seconds, a link to a Floridian newspaper took him to an article dated thirteen years prior. Man kills wife, sets house on fire. Stepdaughter missing. A rush of agony moved through him, heating his blood. A picture of a young girl caught his attention, a slim teenager who resembled Alexa with her dark hair and blue eyes.
He read the caption below the picture.
Missing: Allison Weeks.
Allison. That’s her real name. He ran his fingers through his hair, eyes riveted on the screen.
A knock made him almost jump from his seat. “Who is it?” he asked to buy time.
The door opened, and Alexa meandered inside. He flicked off his monitor, a pang of guilt nagging at him. She’d told him the truth, and what was he doing? Challenging it. He curled his fingers into a ball. Having a rough childhood didn’t excuse her for her poor behavior. For being involved in Pamela’s death. For bringing all those women to—
“Hey,” she said softly. Then, she squared her shoulders, walking up to him with perfect posture like she’d locked her spine into place. “I’m here for work. You said we could talk to the other candidate today.”
“Yes.”
“Great.”
He tapped his fingers on the desk, restless. Damn it. He was too old to skirt around the subject. “You were gone this morning.”
She looked away for a moment, then faced him again. A flicker burned in the depths of her irises. “I thought it’d be best. Thank you for last night, which was what you said it’d be. One night.”
“One night,” he said, with the enthusiasm of receiving a death sentence. A night he wouldn’t mind repeating again and again, even if he damn well knew he couldn’t get further involved with her. “That’s right. Well, the young man I’m thinking of works at a different ranch. So we’ll have to drive for a couple hours.”
“Sounds good.”
“I need to finish some stuff, then we can go.”
“I’ll be on the patio. Just come get me when you’re ready.”
If only it were that easy.
She sauntered out of his office and closed the door behind her. Well, at least he was making some progress. Not about what had happened to Pamela directly, but he’d gained Alexa’s trust. What if she told him more personal stuff? What if he managed to get access to her office in Nevada?
He flicked his screen on again, rereading the information he found about her. Alexa had fled her stepfather, probably scared and definitely alone. How many times had he considered fleeing his home as a young boy? Too many.
He reached for his wallet and opened it, grabbing the picture of Pamela. Even though he was five years her senior, she had been his best friend—the daughter of the housekeeper. She’d understood him, loved him, had made his sour days a tad sweeter. He’d always known she was like a little sister to him—but the discovery that they shared DNA had shocked him.
And his mother, who certainly knew her husband was no saint, but had never expected him to impregnate someone. His mother had chosen to live in denial, no doubt.
Gina did her usual quick knock before walking into his office. “Hey, boss?”
“I could be on an important call,” he said, annoyed. Snarky remarks usually got him nowhere where Gina was concerned, and her attitude and spirit reminded him of the housekeeper he’d grown up with. Pamela’s mother. The one his father had bedded for fun, and then ended up destroying both families.
“I just wanted to say…I talked to her this morning. Alexa.”
“Noted. Anything else?”
She tapped her fingers on her apron, shortening the gap between them. “She had breakfast earlier and asked some questions about you.”
He scratched his chin, a chilly sensation sensitizing his scalp and putting him on high alert. “What kind of questions?”
“Oh, stuff like, how often you come here.”
Interesting. Had Alexa used the opportunity to gather information about him, or had it been small talk? Why would she want to go behind his back, though? Didn’t make sense. “What else?”
Gina tapped her fingers on a shelf. “If you brought a lot of women here.”
The apprehension vanished, and he relaxed his shoulders. A measure of joy flew through him. There’s nothing to worry about. I’m the lying bastard, not her. “What did you say?”
“I said she shouldn’t worry about these things,” she said. “Then she nodded and changed the subject.”
“All right. Thanks for letting me know.”
Gina did a semi-eye roll, the silent reminder she hated to be dismissed. “Look, I agreed on not mentioning anything about Pamela for God knows why. But I don’t want to lie about other stuff. There’s something about her that seems genuine.”
“Really?”
“Yes. And you should give her a chance.”
“What makes you think I’m not?” he asked in a teasing tone. Even if Alexa proved at the end she had not directly been involved in Pamela’s death…she had been an accessory to it. She had offered his troubled sister a place to sell her body, and how could he forget that? Besides, she gave other women a platform to sell their bodies, and he couldn’t be onboard with that. Hit too close to home to date her.
