Instead, she'd bought a house in Huntsville's historic district, Twickenham.
A sharp, loud knock at her bedroom door snapped Addy out of her rambling thoughts. 'Yes?'
The door opened. Mrs. Hargett stood outside in the hallway. 'I'm terribly sorry to keep bothering you like this, but—'
'Is he threatening to come and drag me downstairs kicking and screaming?' Addy laughed, remembering how many times during her difficult adolescent years her father had issued similar warnings. Having a daughter with her mother's old-fashioned breeding but none of her delicate blond beauty had often confused Rusty McConnell. But not nearly as much as the mixture of personality traits she had inherited from Madeline and himself. Cool, calm and ever the lady. Rusty liked that. What he didn't like was her stubbornness, which was one of his own most prominent qualities.
'Yes, ma'am. That's what he said.' Mrs. Hargett, small and skinny, with round black eyes that were the only bright spot in her pale colorless face, smiled, crinkling the feathery wrinkles that lined her eyes and mouth. 'He ordered me to give you that message, but then he told me to wait. He looked over at that Mr. Romero, you know, Mrs. Lunden's brother-in-law.'
Agitating circles formed in the pit of Addy's stomach. 'You don't have to tell me. He said to let me know that if I didn't come down, posthaste, he'd send Ni—Mr. Romero up to fetch me.'
'Mr. McConnell can be outrageous sometimes, can't he?' Mrs. Hargett shook her head, not disturbing one curl of her neatly permed short gray hair that was coated with a hair spray with the sealing powers of a good lacquer.
'There'll be no need for a return message.' Addy picked up her purse from the nightstand. 'I might as well get this over with.'
Together, she and Mrs. Hargett descended the staircase, but once in the foyer the housekeeper turned toward the kitchen while Addy squared her broad shoulders and marched into the dining room.
Rusty McConnell disliked antique furniture. Elm Hill had been filled with five generations of acquisition. Every stick of furniture in this mansion was expensive and new. Rusty sat at the head of the dark oak dining table, a traditional-style buffet at his back, an enormous matching china cabinet at the opposite end of the room, directly behind Dina, who turned and glared at Addy, a look of resentment in her cool blue eyes. Addy wondered what had prompted that look. Something was going on. More than she'd bargained for, she feared.
'About time you got down here.' Rusty flicked the ashes from the tip of his cigar into a small brass tray. 'We've all finished with breakfast.'
'I'm not hungry.' Addy, her steps quick and unfaltering, sailed past Dina, not even acknowledging her presence. She stopped briefly to touch Brett on the back. He turned his bright smile on her. 'Good morning.'
'Why the hell did you put on that dirty, ripped dress you were wearing last night?' Rusty asked, scooting his chair backward, preparing to stand. 'You've got a closet full of clothes in your room.'
Standing by her father's chair, Addy placed a restraining hand on his shoulder. 'Don't get up, Daddy.' She bent down, kissing him on the cheek. 'You really should have given those clothes to Goodwill or the Salvation Army years ago.'
Rusty grunted, then gave his daughter a quick kiss on her forehead. 'Sit down. We've got a lot to discuss.'
'Make it quick.' Addy didn't sit down. Picking up a cup filled with hot, black coffee, she brought it to her lips. 'I'm going home, so don't try to stop me.'
'I knew you wouldn't want to stay here,' Rusty said. 'So I've made arrangements to keep you safe in your own home.'
Addy sipped the strong, eye-opening coffee. Suspiciously glaring at her father, she tried to figure out why he was being so agreeable. She'd been sure she'd have a battle royal on her hands this morning, certain he'd insist she move back into the mansion and be kept under lock and key twenty-four hours a day. 'What's the catch?'
'I've hired protection for you.' Rusty ran the tip of his big, meaty finger around his empty cup. Smiling, he glanced up at Addy, a mischievous twinkle in his green eyes.
'What did you do, call Sam Dundee this morning and have him fly in some of his men?' Addy hated the thought of someone following her every move, but it was an acceptable alternative to moving back to her father's house.
'I talked to Sam. He's arranging some extra security, but he suggested a private bodyguard for you, someone he thinks is the best my money could buy.' Sticking his cigar back in his mouth, Rusty inhaled deeply, then released a cloud of smoke.
Addy felt the tension in the room, an underlying tremor of emotions coming from the others sitting around the table. She glanced over at Brett, handsome, syrupy sweet Brett, who simply smiled at her. But there was something in his eyes, an odd look that Addy didn't understand. Turning her attention to Dina, she again noted the resentment the other woman couldn't disguise.
Taking a deep breath, she finally looked at Nick Romero, whose tight jeans and cotton knit shirt took nothing away from his aura of sophistication. The tiny diamond stud glistened against his bronze earlobe. Addy tried not to remember the way he'd kissed her, the way he'd made her feel. She didn't want to have any more romantic fantasies about him being her personal champion, her paladin. But the minute she looked at him, her control slipped. A tingling warmth spread through her. She fought it, annoyed. Nick stared at her, his face blank.
'What do you mean, a private bodyguard?' She didn't like the sound of it.
'Sit down, little girl.' Rusty reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a rumpled sheet of paper. 'Take a look at this.'
Addy picked up the paper, scanning the typewritten words.
Pulling out a chair, Addy sat down beside Brett Windsor. He casually laid his arm across the back of her chair. 'It came in the morning mail,' he said. 'Rusty's been horribly upset since he read it.'
'These kidnappers were so sure of themselves that they mailed this yesterday.' Rusty grabbed the letter out of Addy's trembling fingers. 'Nick has already talked to the police and the FBI as well as Sam Dundee.'
Jerking around, Addy glared at Nick, whose face was still as unreadable to her as hieroglyphics. 'You've put Nick in charge?'
'Considering his background and connections, he volunteered.' Rusty cleared his throat, and Addy knew he was trying not to reveal how overwrought he was, how deeply disturbed he was by the memories of that long-ago kidnapping that had ended so tragically. Addy would give anything to prevent the pain she knew he was feeling. Rusty McConnell was a good man. He didn't deserve such torment.
'The letter and envelope it came in will be thoroughly tested, but my guess is that it will be clean, the stationery the kind you can buy anywhere.' Nick tapped the edge of the table with his index finger. 'The type is computer printer. Most likely from a computer available to a vast number of people.'
Addy watched Nick's finger as he continued tapping lightly on the table. She hated herself for remembering the way that finger had caressed her lips. 'I suppose I should thank you, once again, for all your help, Mr. Romero. Too bad you're leaving in a couple of days. Going to El Paso to visit your grandmother, aren't you?'
Addy glanced at Dina, whose perfectly made-up face paled slightly, the lush pink blusher on her cheeks seeming overly bright. Her father's fiancee now knew that she'd overheard part of her early morning conversation with Nick.
'Maria is going to be so upset by your change in plans,' Dina said, clasping her hands in front of her, cushioning them against her breasts. She looked pleadingly at Rusty. 'She's eighty-five, you know, and hasn't seen Nick in over a year.'
'Why have you changed your plans?' Addy's heart sank. She didn't want this man here, disrupting her life, especially not now when she was going to have to fight her father to maintain her hard-won independence. She wasn't sure she had the strength to fight two domineering men.
'Your father has asked me to stay on, to help out.' Nick leaned back in his chair, glancing first at Addy while he talked, then turning to Rusty. 'You might as well go ahead and tell her. She's not going to like it.'
'Addy—'
'Tell me what? About the extra security Sam Dundee has arranged, and about these private bodyguards?' Addy hated the way her father hesitated, realizing that he dreaded what he had to say. 'More security here at the
