“Don’t change it.” His voice was passionate, and he leaned forward, his mouth mere inches from her own. She licked her lips as she glanced down, and that feeling in her stomach ratcheted up tenfold this time.
When he cleared his throat, she jerked back, realizing she’d been lusting after him.
“I really should get a few chores done before I go to sleep. I have to work tonight,” she murmured, feeling suddenly claustrophobic in her own house.
“I’ll leave for now, but I’ll be back soon,” he promised, or threatened — however she chose to look at it. At this point, she had no clue.
All she really knew was that she needed to get her wits together.
Bryson stood, and she didn’t realize that he’d walked out the front door until she heard his vehicle start. After getting shakily to her feet, she moved to the front window, and then their gazes met through the glass pane of the passenger side window, leaving her standing there frozen. He smiled, turned away, and pulled away from the curb onto the quiet street.
The fates seemed to be forever against her, so she’d bet every last dime she had to her name, which wasn’t much, that preparations for this trial were going to drag on for a long time, a very long time, leaving this man almost a fixture in her life.
Sliding to the floor with her glass clutched tightly in her fingers, Misty groaned.
Yes, a very long time, she thought again. Trials and tribulations.
Gardening time was over. Right now, she had to cool off, and then she had an attorney to speak to.
Chapter Six
Misty’s nerves were stretched thin as she walked into the luxurious hotel and looked around at the gleaming lobby. Men and women seemed to be gliding across the polished slate flooring on their way to the high front desk.
She felt woefully underdressed in her plain black skirt and white top, certain that she stood out like a broken finger around these men in hand-tailored suits and women in dresses that cost many times what her last car had. None of the attire could be purchased at the local mall — that was certain.
This had been a mistake — stepping into a world where she didn’t belong. This was the sort of place people with money frequented. People with serious money.
Her fingers shaking, she turned her head and looked toward the doors. It wasn’t too late to escape. Sure, Camden Whitman had flown in from Montana to meet with her, but he would probably be relieved if she didn’t show. How useful could a girl like her really be to this case? Yes, a girl. She felt like a girl, not a woman.
Misty was sure that if they did put her on the stand, she’d fail epically. Yes, she was capable of answering a few questions, but when the cross-examination started, who was to say she wouldn’t immediately fall to pieces?
“Ms. Elton?”
Misty froze, fear in her eyes. She wasn’t Ms. Elton here. That wasn’t her name. She was… What was her name again? It wasn’t used all that often, and she easily forgot. Oh, yes, Magnolia Linhart. She shouldn’t acknowledge the person addressing her.
“I’m sorry. It’s Ms. Linhart, isn’t it?”
Yeah, this person knew who she was. Turning, Misty caught sight of a dark gray suit with a splash of blue against a stark white shirt. She tilted her head, up, and up, and up.
Then she was meeting the icy blue eyes of one of the most stunning men she’d ever seen before. Were all the males on this case required to have a certain GQ look? This was absurd. His dark blond hair was cut short but styled in a way that only the rich could afford, his jaw solid, chiseled, masculine, and his mouth — wow, that mouth must have inspired many nights of fantasies for more than a few ladies.
She gulped and remained standing in front of him, stock still and utterly speechless.
“I’m Camden Whitman,” he said, and he held out his hand.
Common manners kicked in and Misty found her arm rising and then her small hand was clasped in his for a few seconds as she swallowed her natural fear of having a new man take hold of her — even in such an innocent fashion.
When she didn’t get any predatory vibes from the contact, she began to relax. Maybe it was foolish, but she was starting to realize that not all men wanted to hurt her, especially not the men she’d met lately, like the FBI agents and the U.S. marshals.
Misty blew out a breath of relief. She could do this. It was just a simple conversation, after all.
“Hi. I’m Mis…” she started to say, before correcting herself. “Magnolia Linhart.”
His eyes twinkled, since she’d just made the same mistake as he had, and she felt even better. He didn’t seem to be a monster, though, of course, Jesse hadn’t seemed to be a monster either. Was her radar for fiends completely broken? But here she was, ready to meet with this man, ready to get some questions answered.
“I’m so glad you agreed to meet with me. I’ve been working on this…project for a while now, spoken to several women, and a few men. May we go upstairs for privacy?”
Misty tensed again. He wanted to be alone with her? Why? As she looked around, noticing that several pairs of eyes were on them, she understood, but she didn’t have to like it. What if... No! She had to stop thinking like that.
She finally spoke. “That would be fine.”
He held out a hand to lead her toward the elevators.
“I hope you found the hotel easily enough,” he said as he pushed the elevator to go up.
“Yes, I took a cab.” The beautiful gold doors slid open, and she walked inside with him. When the doors shut, she found herself all alone with this stranger, but nothing in her was on red alert. She was nervous, but she didn’t feel as if she were in danger.
Her danger signals could be broken, but she didn’t think so right now. Anyway, everyone had to go at some point, right? If it was her time, then so be it.
The doors opened onto one of the higher floors, and again Camden gestured for her to precede him. She stepped out, and then he was walking beside her until he stopped at a double door and inserted his key card.
Once she was inside the luxurious suite, her eyes popped out at such extravagance. This room seemed to be larger than the house she was currently hiding in. It was certainly a lot nicer, with the mahogany trim, plush cream carpeting, and distinctive high-end furniture.
“Would you like something to drink?”
“Yes, please.” She wouldn’t be able to speak unless she wet her throat.
“Have a seat over there. I’ll surprise you,” he said. She sat on the couch in the sitting area and crossed her legs, then uncrossed them, smoothed out her skirt, and crossed them again.