You are cordially invited to…

Honor thy pledge

to the

Miami Confidential Agency

Do you hereby swear to uphold the law to the best of your ability…

To maintain the level of integrity of this agency by your compassion for victims, loyalty to your brothers and sisters and courage under fire…

To hold all information and identities in the strictest confidence…

Or die before breaking the code?

Secret Weapon Spouse
B.J. Daniels

www.millsandboon.co.uk

This book is for fellow writer Marty Levine who was in my thoughts all the time I was in Miami. Thanks for adding a ray of sunshine to those otherwise drab days.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

B.J. Daniels’s life dream was to write books. After a career as an award-winning newspaper journalist, she sold thirty-seven short stories before she finally wrote her first book. That book, Odd Man Out, received a 4½ star review from Romantic Times BOOKclub and went on to be nominated for Best Harlequin Intrigue of 1995. Since then she has won numerous awards, including a career achievement award for romantic suspense.

B.J. lives in Montana with her husband, Parker, two springer spaniels, Scout and Spot, and an aging, temperamental tomcat named Jeff. When she isn’t writing, she snowboards, camps, boats and plays tennis. To contact B.J., write to her at P.O. Box 183, Bozeman, MT 59771, or check out her Web site at www.bjdaniels.com.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Samantha Peters—The wedding planner/undercover agent lived a secret life that even her closest associates didn’t know about…until she met a man who saw behind the facade.

Alex Graham—Estranged from his blue-blood family, the fireman never dreamed his sister’s wedding would lead to murder.

Caroline Graham—All she wanted was to marry the man she loved—and keep her deadly secrets until the big day.

C. B. Graham—The patriarch ruled his family with an iron fist. But not even he knew everything.

Brian Graham—Big brother would do anything to look good in his father’s eyes.

Preston Wellington III—Caroline’s fiancé was one of the few who knew the truth. But he was nowhere to be found.

Sonya Botero—The kidnapped heiress had Miami Confidential working day and night to find her and bring her home safely.

Craig Johnson—Sonya’s limo driver wound up in the hospital thanks to some very determined kidnappers. But does he know more than he’s letting on?

Victor Constantine—The contract killer had spent years doing what he did so well. Was this his last client?

Miami Confidential—No matter what it takes, the agents who make up this secret, undercover organization are prepared to fight crime and protect the innocent.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Epilogue

Chapter One

Trouble. Samantha Peters knew it the moment she saw the bride-to-be. Caroline Graham looked upset but trying hard not to show it as she stepped into Samantha’s office, followed by a man who was clearly not her fiancé.

“Thank you for making time to see me today,” Caroline said, then seemed to remember she wasn’t alone. “This is my brother, Alex.”

Samantha came around her desk to shake his hand. He was tall, broad in the shoulders with light brown hair—almost blond—and intense eyes that at first she thought were blue but on closer inspection found they changed color with the light. Right now they were more green and flecked with gold.

As her hand disappeared into his large one, she found his touch dry and warm, his grip strong, self-assured. But Samantha wouldn’t have expected anything less from one of Caroline Graham’s brothers.

Alex, she recalled from her research, was the fire-man. In her business, Samantha made a point of knowing as much as she could about her client’s family.

As she shook Alex Graham’s hand she told herself he could just as easily have been the brother who ran the Graham financial empire instead of the black sheep of the family. He looked completely at home in the expensive pin-striped gray suit that fit him perfectly.

Her eyes locked with his for just an instant. He seemed distracted, his sister Caroline nervous. Samantha couldn’t help but wonder why Caroline had called, insisting she had to see her—let alone why she’d brought her brother with her today instead of her fiancé.

“Please sit down,” Samantha said as he released her hand. She pushed her tortoiseshell-rimmed glasses up and braced herself for the worst.

She’d been in this business long enough not to jump to conclusions let alone panic. Cool under pressure. That was Samantha Peters. Some said ice water ran through her veins. They had no idea. But if there was one asset she brought to her job as a wedding planner, it was unruffled composure. The same went for her other job—the one that took place in the hidden soundproof room upstairs over the shop.

At Weddings Your Way, Samantha was the detail person. She was the one who saw that each client’s wedding came off without even the tiniest snag. It was one of the reasons she was paid the big bucks.

“Is there a problem?” Samantha asked when Caroline and Alex had taken their chairs. Normally, she would have pulled up a chair, as well, making the meeting more informal, more personal.

Today, Samantha chose to sit behind her desk. That alone should have told her something.

The thing about brides was that they often panicked for all kinds of reasons: family arguments that required a change of setting at both the wedding and reception; the loss or gain of too much weight before their final dress fitting; bridesmaids who got pregnant, broke their legs, cut their hair or dyed it a hideous color before the wedding. The list went on and on.

It was Samantha’s job to pacify all parties and solve those problems if possible before the big day. She wasn’t too worried even though the Graham-Wellington wedding would be one of the largest affairs Weddings Your Way would handle this year and that was saying a lot given their clientele. Also Samantha had been working on this wedding for more than six months and still had six months to go since Caroline wanted a Christmas wedding and it was only June.

“How can I help you?” she asked looking up from her desk at the bride-to-be. Caroline Graham was tall and willowy, blond and beautiful with a grace born of good genes and unlimited money.

“There might be a problem,” Caroline said, fiddling with her engagement ring. Another bad sign.

Alex shifted in the plush chair provided for clients, his gaze lingering on his sister, a frown furrowing his brow.

Samantha could feel the tension in the air, a high-pitched electric inaudible buzz. He looked at Samantha as if he didn’t have any more of a clue than she did. She felt an unexpected jolt as he continued to probe her gaze for…for what? She had no idea.

She’d already pulled out the Graham-Wellington file and gone over the details after Caroline’s call. But she opened it now and picked up her pen, concentrating on the checklist form in front of her to regain her balance. She had a gift when it came to hysterical brides and grooms with cold feet. She would have taken either right now. There was something about Alex Graham that she found unnerving and clearly Caroline was upset. Her instincts told her this was much more serious than wedding jitters.

“Are there some changes you would like to make?” Samantha asked looking again at the bride-to-be.

“Just one,” Caroline said quietly, seeming almost embarrassed. “We’d like to move the wedding up by three months.”

To her credit, Samantha didn’t even blink. She told herself nothing a bride requested could surprise her at this point in her career. “Three months?”

Caroline explained that her fiancé’s father wasn’t in good health. They feared that if they waited he might miss the wedding. “It can’t be helped under the circumstances.”

Samantha flipped to her calendar. The Graham-Wellington wedding was set for the first week in December. For more than six months the date had been set, the plans made, arrangements being prepared. The kind of wedding required for the daughter of one of the wealthiest men in Florida took time. Starting from almost scratch and pulling off something of that magnitude in less than three months was impossible.

“I know it’s not much time,” Caroline said apologetically.

Samantha glanced at Alex. He was staring at his sister as if this was the first he’d heard of this change. Samantha shifted her gaze to Caroline, saw the set of her jaw and didn’t bother to ask if this was something the bride-to-be was sure she wanted to do. Clearly it was.

“All right,” Samantha said and flipped through her book. “Do you have a date in mind?”

“The first Friday in September.”

September. There went the winter-white dress, the ice-blue bridesmaids dresses, as well. “Were you thinking fall colors then?” she asked calmly.

“I suppose so,” Caroline said.

Samantha noted that Caroline’s fingers were digging into the fine fabric of her purse now on her lap. She’d never seen the woman nervous before.

The bridesmaids had all been fitted for the dresses that were being made by an impossible-to-get Miami designer. Impossible to get, unless you were Samantha Peters and had the full power of Weddings Your Way behind her.

Maybe they could keep the original wedding dress since there was no way to get another designer original made in three months, not with the designers booked solid. Not even Samantha could pull that off.

But blue was all wrong for a fall wedding this year. That meant new dresses for the twelve bridesmaids. Each would have to be refitted for original designs. Even if Caroline might have agreed to off-the-rack bridesmaid dresses, Samantha doubted C. B. Graham would.

“A fall wedding will be much warmer,” Samantha said cheerfully. Fortunately, the wedding was to be held at the Graham estate. So a change of venue wouldn’t be required. But that was only the tip of the iceberg. She pulled out a stack of new forms. “What flowers do you have in mind?” Arctic white roses were all wrong for September.

Caroline sighed. “I suppose this changes everything, doesn’t it?”

For the type of wedding C. B. Graham had insisted his only daughter have? Yes, this changed everything.

As they began the arduous task again, Samantha made suggestions keeping with what was socially required of a Graham heir. She didn’t bother to tell Caroline that the wedding would cost ten times as much—not to mention any money already spent on the first wedding plans was lost. Money, of course, wasn’t the issue. Samantha was going to have to call in some favors to pull this one off.

Caroline looked close to tears as she made her selections for a second time. Samantha did her best to make it as painless as possible since Caroline was clearly upset.

Her brother shifted uncomfortably in his chair and said nothing, but Samantha was very aware of him.

She caught him studying his sister from time to time and couldn’t help but wonder why Caroline had brought him with her today. For support? He seemed to be as confused by all this as Samantha herself. And where was Preston Wellington III, Caroline’s fiancé?

But what worried Samantha was that Caroline’s heart didn’t seem to be in the choices she was making this time. The bride-to-be seemed more relieved than anything else when the basics has been decided and Samantha walked the two of them to the front door of Weddings Your Way. Caroline looked a little pale and unsteady on her feet as Alex opened the door for her.

“Are you all right?” Samantha heard him say. She didn’t catch Caroline’s reply as the door closed, but she watched the two of them from the large glass doors as they started down the long flower-and-palm-lined walk to the street. Samantha couldn’t shake the feeling that Caroline was anything but all right.

ALEX GRAHAM was thinking the same thing as he and his sister stepped out into the Miami heat, Caroline in the lead.

She’s in some kind of trouble.

The thought came out of nowhere and had no real basis. Sure it was unusual that Caroline had changed her wedding date, maybe especially this late. But things happened.

No, what was really odd and unnerving was the fact that she’d called him out of the blue and asked him to meet her at the wedding planner’s today. For years he’d been on the outs with his family, Caroline included.

Caroline was the baby girl of his blue-blooded family. It didn’t help that their mother had died shortly after she was born. Or that C. B. Graham had tried to make up for it by giving Caroline any and everything she wanted.

Caroline, or the little princess as Alex called her, had been spoiled and difficult. For years he’d avoided her as well as his father and brother, telling himself it was no big loss.

In truth, his family avoided him probably more than the other way around. He’d been the black sheep ever since he refused to attend an Ivy League college—and then had the audacity to become a fireman.

His father, C.B., was an overachiever who swore that the bottom line was always money. Fortunately for C.B., his firstborn, Brian, had followed in his footsteps attending the old man’s alma mater and going into the family investments business.

C.B. had almost disowned Alex when he’d gone to a state college and then become a Miami fireman. Needless to say, they still didn’t get along. In fact, his father had nothing but contempt for Alex’s choices and did little to hide it.

“Caroline?” Alex called after his sister as she walked ahead of him. The afternoon sun hung over the brightly painted buildings along the street, the day uncomfortably hot and humid. It was only June. He hated to think what August would be like. Palm fronds rustled in the hot breeze off Biscayne Bay. Somewhere in the distance came the screech of tires, the blare of a horn. Had she not heard him?

“Caroline?” She’d said little since he’d met her here and he wasn’t going to let her get away until they talked. Really talked, something his family avoided at all costs.

She’d stopped and seemed to be leaning against a wrought-iron bench as if she felt ill.

Alex caught up to his sister and saw that she was flushed and appeared close to tears. He took her arm. “Hey, are you all right? You don’t look so good. What’s going on?”

He couldn’t shake the feeling that his sister asked him here today to confide something in him—and changed her mind.

“I told you, I’m fine,” she snapped, pulling free. “I just need to get to the car and sit down for a minute. The heat.” She blew out a breath and fanned herself, stepping away to head for her car and driver waiting at the curb. “I’ll call you later,” she said over her shoulder, her pace increasing as if she couldn’t wait to get away from him. “Thank you for meeting me here.”

Alex swore under his breath, wondering what he’d done. Nothing. They hadn’t even spoken two words from the time he’d met her in the Weddings Your Way lobby. It wasn’t him this time, he told himself. She was upset about something else. Being forced to change the date of the wedding?

He saw her look around as if she’d been expecting someone. Her fiancé?

Where was he anyway? Why hadn’t he met Caroline here? Alex had the feeling she’d been expecting him. Maybe that’s what had her upset—the fact that he hadn’t showed.

Alex had yet to meet his sister’s soon-to-be-husband but he already disliked him based simply on the man’s name: Preston Wellington III. He, no doubt, was a clone of their brother, Brian, which meant that once Caroline married him she would be spending most of her life never seeing him. Just as they had hardly ever seen their father. He was always too busy making more money to spend any time with them. Alex couldn’t bear to think what his sister’s life would be like. He’d wanted more for her.

He sighed and started after her, hoping he could change her mind about leaving. Maybe they could go somewhere, have a cool drink, talk.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a white limo pull up to the curb behind his sister’s car. He slowed, thinking it was probably the missing Preston Wellington III.

The driver got out to open the rear door. An attractive dark-haired young woman stepped out onto the curb. Caroline had stopped as if she also thought the limo contained someone she knew.

And then everything happened too fast. At first Alex heard rather than saw the commotion that ensued. He turned as a black limo pulled up behind the white one. Two men leaped from the rear doors. They grabbed the woman who’d just exited the limo in front of them. Her driver tried to fight them off but was knocked to the ground as they dragged the woman to the open doors of the black limo.

Alex charged across the lawn toward the two men who’d shoved the woman into the backseat of the waiting black limo and jumped in after her. The limo engine roared, then to Alex’s horror, the large black car jumped the curb as if aiming directly for the woman’s limo driver who was still on the ground.

The driver managed to roll out of the way as the limo shot toward Alex. He yelled to Caroline as he dived aside, hitting the ground and rolling, coming up in time to see that the speeding car had turned and was aimed directly at his sister.

Caroline seemed frozen to the spot. He let out a howl of anguish as he heard the limo hit her, her body flying off to the side.

The dark limo had no rear license plate and the windows were too tinted to see inside as it crashed between two cars at the curb and sped off down the street. Everything had happened so fast, he didn’t even get a good look at the two men who’d taken the woman.

“Caroline. Oh God, Caroline.” Alex was on his feet, running to where she was slumped on the grass. He dropped to the ground next to his sister and felt for a pulse with one hand as he fumbled out his cell phone and dialed 911 with the other. “Oh, Caroline,” he whispered as he brushed her hair back from her beautiful face.

He felt a hand on his shoulder but it wasn’t until later that he recalled the feel of the woman’s touch, let alone remembered her name. Samantha Peters.

INSIDE THE SPEEDING black limo, the man in the back made the call. “We’ve got the girl,” he said when the phone was picked up at the other end.

There was no reply. Just a soft click. In the backseat Sonya Botero’s eyes fluttered.

“Give her more of the drug,” the man ordered. “I don’t want her waking up.”

He leaned back and closed his eyes. The job hadn’t come off as clean as he’d planned. Unfortunately, he’d left loose ends, he thought glancing back.

CRAIG JOHNSON SAT on the grass in front of Weddings Your Way and watched the black limo disappear down the street, tires squealing and engine roaring.

The limo driver-bodyguard was too shocked to move. The blow to his head had left him dazed but not so dazed that he didn’t realize what had just happened.

The men had taken the woman he’d been hired to protect and there would be hell to pay.

But what was utmost in his mind was one startling realization: the men had tried to kill him. If he hadn’t rolled out of the way when he had…

Suddenly he couldn’t catch his breath at just the thought of how close it had been. He gasped, the weight of the knowledge like a weight on his chest.

He was glad that no one was paying any attention to him now. They’d all crowded around a woman on the ground a dozen yards from him and he realized that unlike him, she’d been hit by the car.

He felt light-headed, his stomach weak and queasy. That could be him over there on the ground.

He tried to get up but his legs wouldn’t hold him. Sitting back down heavily on the ground, he watched people rushing around, calling for help. More people were running over. He heard voices above him asking if he was all right. Did he need an ambulance?

He was shaking so hard he couldn’t answer. He closed his eyes and lay back on the ground, lucky to be alive. But for how long?

Chapter Two

Samantha Peters pushed her tortoiseshell-rimmed glasses up as she sat at her usual spot at the table in the soundproof room on the second floor of Weddings Your Way, watching the monitors on the wall.

The police had left hours ago. Now the only illumination came from the security lights that bathed the long palm-lined entry into the shop.

Weddings Your Way had been in an uproar all afternoon and evening. No one could believe that Sonya Botero had been abducted right out front and client Caroline Graham had been injured in the hit-and-run that followed.

“We are prepared for a ransom demand,” Rachel Brennan was saying now to the elite group of undercover agents positioned around the table. “Everything is in place. Since the abduction took place here, the kidnappers might contact us first. If it is a kidnapping.”

Samantha found herself only half listening as she watched the monitors that provided surveillance. She focused on the two that covered the front of the building.

“I’ve heard from Sonya’s father as well as her fiancé,” Rachel was saying. “Both are flying in tomorrow. Both will demand answers. Let’s do our best to have some for them.”

The air conditioner hummed in the large room devoid of windows. One end was a wall of computers and electronics. This was the command center, the heart of the true operation with Weddings Your Way being the front. Not that each agent didn’t perform wedding-related duties, living and working in the community while working undercover as part of the Miami Confidential team.

Rachel Brennan, tall, ebony-haired with sparkling blue eyes, in her early forties, was head of the elite group.

“I’ve looked at the surveillance tapes,” Rachel said. “The men knew about the cameras. They were careful to keep their heads down, faces in shadow. It was all very well planned and executed. We can’t rule out that Sonya’s abduction is connected with the recent assassination attempt on her fiancé.”

“So are we assuming this is politically motivated?” Sophie Brooks asked. Sophie, tall, willowy with long blond hair, had been sketching on a pad in front of her and now looked up. Along with being an agent, she was also Weddings Your Way’s invitation designer.

“It has to be connected to politics,” Julia Garcia said in a quiet voice at the end of the table. Julia was friends with Sonya when they were young and now worked as a seamstress for the wedding shop along with being an agent. “When you’re about to marry a politician from Ladera who has been making war on drug dealers throughout South America, you can’t help but be a target.”

The room fell silent for a long moment. Samantha continued to watch the monitors, the tragic events of the day weighing heavily on her. She knew what she was waiting for. Her instincts told her it wouldn’t be long now.

“Any word on the condition of Caroline Graham?” Isabelle Rush asked. The agent was small with shoulder-length strawberry blond hair and light brown eyes. She’d been handpicked for the Miami Confidential team as an expert in criminology.

“Still unconscious,” Samantha said without looking from the monitors. “The doctors aren’t sure she’s going to make it.”

“Is it possible she was a target, as well?” Isabelle asked.

Samantha recalled how the car had careened up onto the curb, just missing the limo driver and Alex Graham but hitting Caroline. “I don’t see how. Caroline didn’t even have an appointment. I had to fit her in at the last minute so no one could have known she was coming here.”

“Maybe,” Rachel said and turned to Clare Myers, who was sitting at one of the computers. “Let’s not take any chances. Find out everything you can on both. Did Sonya and Caroline know each other? I want to know if there is even the remotest connection between them.”

“I’m on it,” Clare said tapping at the keys. The small pixie-ish blond woman had a sharp mind and worked for the IRS investigating corporations trying to rip off the government before she was enlisted by Miami Confidential to work as the accountant for the wedding shop as well as use her expertise on digging up anything on anyone via the computer.

“What about Botero’s limo driver?” Rachel asked, checking her notes. “Craig Johnson?”

“He was admitted to the hospital complaining of headaches,” Isabelle said. “The police questioned him after he was admitted. Johnson said he didn’t remember anything after being struck on the head by one of the men.”

“Could be lying,” Julia said. “But it also could have happened so fast he really didn’t get a good look at his attacker.”

Isabelle shook her head. “I think one of us should go by and see how he’s doing, see what our take on Mr. Johnson is. After all, he was hired as Sonya’s bodyguard as well as her driver.”

“I’ll pay him a visit,” Samantha said. “I want to go to the hospital and check on Caroline Graham anyway.”

Rachel nodded her approval. “I’m sure the police questioned Caroline’s brother. Alex, right?”

Samantha nodded and looked to Isabelle.

“He told police he only got a glimpse of the men,” Isabelle said. “The car had no plates on the back and tinted windows.”

“Check limo rentals,” Rachel said. “It’s a long shot.”

“I saw the car,” Samantha said and felt everyone look toward her again. “I saw some of the incident from the window after I walked Caroline and Alex to the door. You’re right. It happened so fast there wasn’t anything anyone could have done. I got a good look at the limo, though. It was an older model. Definitely not a rental. You might want to check used car lots.”

Rachel gave her a smile. “Good idea.” She looked toward Clare who said, “I’m already on it.”

Samantha saw movement on the monitors. Just as she’d been expecting, a dark figure started to bang on the door, then saw the receptionist Samantha had asked to stay late. He shoved his way through the front door and into the reception area.

Samantha stood. “Excuse me, but Alex Graham is here. I need to take care of this.”

As a former agent and profiler for the FBI, Samantha was the go-to person. Not only did she make sure every wedding went off without a hitch, as an agent she assisted in investigations by noticing the little things about people and cases.

As she rose to leave, everyone’s attention turned to the monitor, the same one that had recorded Alex Graham’s entrance earlier today. Only now Alex was dressed in jeans, a Miami Fire Department T-shirt that stretched across his broad shoulders and running shoes. His light brown hair curled at the nape of his suntanned neck and looked as if he’d just come from a hasty shower.

“At this point, I don’t think it would be wise to assume that Caroline Graham was just an innocent victim,” Rachel said. “Find out everything you can about her. And her brother,” she said frowning at the monitor screen. “It might not be a coincidence that the two of them just happened to be here at the same time Sonya Botero was abducted.”

Samantha nodded and slipped out. She’d known Alex Graham would be back. And she knew even before she’d seen him storm in what he would want.

As she descended the stairs, she caught the scent of him before he saw her. Some kind of masculine-smelling shampoo. Fresh from a quick shower, just as she’d suspected. She noted that his hazel eyes were red rimmed and he looked as if he’d been to hell and back. As she neared him, she felt anguish coming off him as well as a raw angry energy. She braced herself.

Alex Graham looked up as she came down the stairs to meet him. His eyes locked with hers and she thought she glimpsed relief. “I wasn’t sure you’d still be here.”

“Mr. Graham, why don’t we step into my office?” Samantha said in her all-business voice.

He gave a sharp nod and stalked ahead of her into her office. She closed the door behind them and took her place behind the desk.

“How is your sister?” she asked, although she’d called the hospital not long before.

“Still unconscious,” he said his voice hoarse.

To think that he’d sat in that same chair with his sister beside him only hours before. Except then he’d been ill at ease, nervous.

Now Alex Graham was grieving and angry. “What the hell happened here today?” he demanded.

“You know as much as I do,” Samantha said quietly as she adjusted her glasses.

“I highly doubt that. Who was that woman in the limo?”

“One of our clients,” Samantha said. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you her name because the police have instructed us not to.”

A muscle in his jaw bunched. He was furious and looking for someone to blame for his sister’s accident, but also looking for answers. Samantha wished she had some for him.

“I’m already getting the same runaround from the police, I don’t need it from you,” he said, his voice rising. “I want to know why my sister was run down outside your business.”

She nodded and spoke in the same soothing tone she used with jittery brides-to-be. “We want to know the same thing, Mr. Graham.”

“Alex. Mr. Graham is my father.” He raked his fingers through his already tousled hair. “My sister may not make it.” His voice broke. “I can’t reach her fiancé. You know a hell of a lot more than I do. Are you going to help me or not?”

She felt a shiver as she glimpsed the raw pain in his gaze. This man was angry and hurting but he was no fool. He wasn’t going to be put off by sympathy and reassuring words. Maybe the hit-and-run had just been an unfortunate accident. But what if for some reason Caroline Graham had been a target?

“I’m going to help you.”

ALEX GRAHAM leaned back in the chair, all his anger spent. He needed to calm down, to sleep, to eat, but more importantly he needed answers. “Thank you.”

She nodded and he found himself settling down a little. She had that kind of effect on people, he thought, remembering how she was with Caroline earlier that day.

He studied her, trying to put his finger on what it was about her that bothered him. She was rail-thin, with huge brown eyes and straight brown hair that fell almost to her shoulders. She peered at him through tortoiseshell glasses. A quiet, unassuming woman, the kind who blended in with the wallpaper.

At least that’s what she wanted him to believe.

Where had that thought come from? He met her steady gaze and felt both sympathy and compassion and true concern. And yet as he looked into her eyes, he had the distinct impression that there was more to her, something she didn’t want him to see.

“How can I help you?” she asked.

He took a breath. “Let me be honest with you, Miss Peters. It is Miss, right?” Was there a slight flush under the cool porcelain of her skin? “I have never met Caroline’s fiancé and quite frankly, I don’t even know how to reach him.”

“I have a number for him,” she said taking a fabric-covered book from her desk drawer. From where he sat, he could see that the contents of the drawer were as neat as the writing in the book.

He watched her turn right to the page.

“Preston Wellington III,” she said picking up a pen and printing the number on a Post-it in the same concise handwriting. She tore off the note and handed it to him, closing the book and crossing her arms over it.

He stared at the number for a moment, then at her. “You already tried to call him, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And you weren’t able to reach him.”

“I’m afraid not.”

He nodded, suspecting he wasn’t going to get much help here, either. “And this is the only number you have for him, right?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve tried it, as well, with the same results.” He sighed. “Have you met him?”

She nodded. “He always came with Caroline for her appointments.”

“Except today?” he asked, sounding surprised.

“Yes.”

“And your impression of him?” He saw her hesitate. “I realize I’m putting you on the spot here, but I need to know what I’m up against. I’m worried sick about my sister. Don’t you think it was more than odd that the only day her fiancé didn’t come with her she changed her wedding plans and then was struck down out front?” He saw something in her eyes that confirmed she, too, thought it odd. “Now no one seems to be able to reach him…. I need to know your impression of him.”

She nodded slowly. “I liked him. He seemed very nice, very attentive to your sister. I felt the two of them were very much in love, they seemed to be…soul mates.”

He heard the small catch in her throat, not sure what surprised him more—her obvious emotional reaction to witnessing what she’d thought was true love or that his sister and this Wellington III might really share something real.

Was it possible he was wrong about the guy? “Would you mind trying the number again for me?” Maybe they would get lucky.

“Certainly.” She picked up the phone and dialed the number from memory, then handed him the phone.

With each ring, his uneasiness grew. He got Preston’s voice mail again but didn’t leave another message. He handed the phone back to her. “He hasn’t returned any of my calls or contacted the hospital. Don’t you think that’s odd?”

She didn’t comment.

He raked a hand through his hair in frustration. What was he doing here? What had made him think this wedding planner could help him? Maybe she really didn’t know any more than he did.

But she had met Preston Wellington III, she’d thought the man was in love with Caroline. Then again, maybe she thought all her clients were in love. Maybe the woman was a hopeless romantic.

He looked into her brown eyes, eyes the color of Cognac. But behind all that rich, warmth was something steely. This woman was no hopeless romantic. There was intelligence there and something else—a wariness that made him wonder if she knew a whole lot more that she wasn’t telling him.

“I found another number for Wellington in Caroline’s purse and called it,” he said, watching for her reaction. “It was his office supposedly. I was told he was out of the country and couldn’t be reached. Apparently they don’t know when he’ll be back.” He saw surprise and something else register in her expression: doubt. Finally.

He felt relieved, needing someone else to confirm that his fears might be justified. He recalled the feel of her hand on his shoulder earlier today when he’d been kneeling over his sister’s body.

“Thanks, Miss… Could I possibly call you something besides, Miss Peters?”

She seemed to hesitate. “Samantha.”

“Thank you.” One barrier down, he thought studying her. He couldn’t shake the feeling that she was hiding something from him. If it had anything to do with his sister’s hit-and-run, he would find out what it was. One way or another. “Samantha, if you’re serious about helping me, then you will come with me now.”

“COME WITH YOU?” Samantha hadn’t been able to hide her surprise. He’d caught her off guard. She’d known he would come back tonight. He was the kind of man who would demand answers and not give up until he got them.

But she worked behind the scenes at Weddings Your Way as an agent. And that’s the way she liked it.

“Go where?” she asked.

“I have the keys to my sister’s condo and I found what I believe is her new address,” he said, sounding almost embarrassed. Obviously he hadn’t known where his sister now lived.

He sighed and leaned forward, elbows on his knees as he scrubbed his hands over his face. “I can’t go over there by myself.”

Samantha swallowed, hearing again the raw pain in his voice, and had she been closer she would have placed a hand on his arm and tried to reassure him. But this wasn’t some groom having second thoughts. This was a man whose sister was lying unconscious in a hospital room, possibly dying, a man who was more than a little suspicious not only of Weddings Your Way and why his sister’s accident had happened out front—but of Samantha Peters as well.

Samantha had shielded herself from this kind of pain, this kind of intimacy. It was why, after completing her training with the FBI she’d taken the job Rachel had offered her. Samantha wanted to work behind the scene. She didn’t want to get close to the victims—let alone the killers.

“I know what I’m asking is an imposition,” Alex said not looking at her. “But I can’t face it alone. I think Preston has been living with her,” he continued before she could say anything. “There might be some clue as to where he is at Caroline’s place. Or a number or address that would give me an idea how to reach his family. Something.”

“Caroline’s friends don’t know?” The moment she asked, she realized how foolish the question had been.

He raised his head and met her gaze. “Frankly, I don’t know any of her friends. Before yesterday, I hadn’t seen Caroline in months.”

“And the rest of your family couldn’t help?”

His smile held no humor. “My father thinks my concern is premature. He insists that he has left a message for Preston and expects to hear from him soon. He’s convinced there is no problem.”

“Maybe that’s the case.”

But clearly Alex didn’t believe it. Samantha had to admit she was starting to have doubts, as well. It had been hours since the accident. Preston should have checked his messages and called by now.

“You think something has happened to him?” she asked. She’d feared Sonya’s abduction was much bigger in scope than any of them suspected.

“That’s just it, I don’t know what to think,” Alex said. “You saw my sister earlier today. She seem upset to you?” He nodded as if he already knew the answer.

“Something was wrong,” he continued. “And I haven’t the slightest idea what it was. All I know is that my sister asked me to meet her here today. So where was her fiancé? My sister is fighting for her life and needs him and yet no one can reach him. Don’t tell me that doesn’t make you wonder. I have to find this Preston Wellington III and satisfy myself that this guy is on the up-and-up.” He rose to his feet.

She had no choice but to go with him even though every instinct told her to watch herself closely. She’d seen the way Alex had been studying her. He was suspicious. Which was only natural under the circumstances.

But she had reason to be suspicious of him as well. All she had was his word that Caroline had told him to meet her here today.

Even if Alex Graham was telling the truth, he unnerved her, threw her off balance and made her feel exposed. And that made him dangerous. She would have to be very careful around him.

She pushed out of her chair and reached for her purse, remembering that her gun wasn’t in it. “Just give me a minute.”

Chapter Three

Samantha was seldom surprised by a man. But Alex, she realized, could turn out to be the exception. He led her to an older model pickup parked at the curb. That didn’t surprise her as much as the music that came on when he started the truck.

Country western. He grinned and turned it down. “I’m a big Willie Nelson fan,” he said almost apologetically.

There was something so refreshing about Alex—and at the same time, she didn’t dare relax around him. Her instincts told her he was trying to get her to lower her guard around him. And she had to wonder why.

The cab of the pickup felt too confined, too intimate. And she was too acutely aware of the man behind the wheel.

Alex, though, seemed relaxed as if relieved to have her with him. Because he thought she was doing this out of the kindness of her heart? Or like her, did he have his own agenda?

She hadn’t been paying much attention to where he was driving. He had large hands and he held the wheel like a man who enjoyed driving and drove well.

It wasn’t until he pulled to the curb and let out an oath that she looked around.

He had stopped in front of an old five-story building on the edge of an area of the city that had gone to seed long ago. “This can’t be right,” he said handing the address to Samantha.

“It’s the address you have written here,” she said, equally surprised. The neighborhood had a deserted feel to it and had for blocks. “It looks like some sort of renewal project.”

“My sister can’t possibly live here.”

A set of headlights flashed behind them, followed by the single whoop of a siren and the flash of blue from a light bar. Samantha looked in her rearview mirror as a patrol car pulled up behind them. Not a cop car but a private security company.

“I’ll handle this,” Alex said and climbed out to walk back as a uniformed man exited the patrol car.

“Wait—” But her words were lost as the door closed. She picked up her purse from the floorboard, slipping her hand in to close her fingers around the grip of the gun she’d brought as she watched the two in the side mirror.

She waited, reading their body language, one hand on the gun, the other on the door handle. She didn’t like the looks of the neighborhood and she knew some of the types who filled security cop openings. This one was late middle age, Hispanic and looked harmless enough.

She saw the security guard point in the direction of the building with the address Alex had found for Caroline.

A moment later, Alex started toward her. The guard climbed back into his patrol car, but didn’t leave.

She released her hold on the gun and put her purse back down as Alex opened his door and leaned in.

“You’re right about this being a renewal project,” he said. “It seems my sister owns it and is its first resident. She lives on the top floor of this building.”

He looked as skeptical as Samantha felt. Why would Caroline Graham live here when she could afford to live anywhere? There had to be a mistake.

Alex shut the car door and came around to open hers. As she got out, she looked back at the security guard still sitting in his car behind them. She could see his face under the streetlight and she knew he could see hers, as well.

She gave him a small smile and a nod. The guard would remember her if she needed to come back here.

Alex used one of the keys on the ring he said he’d found in his sister’s purse at the hospital and braved the elevator although it appeared to be new and in good condition. It hummed up to the fifth floor and opened.

“What the hell?” Alex said beside her.

Samantha was equally surprised to find the hallway under construction. The location was questionable although she suspected it would have a great view of the Atlantic and was on the edge of an area that was obviously seeing some positive changes. But this place didn’t appear to be finished.

“I don’t believe this.” Alex shook his head and didn’t step out of the elevator for a moment as if only more convinced he had the wrong place. “Caroline can’t be living here.”

Apparently she was. At least according to the address Alex had found. And what the security guard had told him.

“Seems to be undergoing a renovation,” Samantha said following him as he finally stepped off the elevator into the unfinished hallway.

He shot her a disbelieving look. “The Caroline I know—or knew anyway—wouldn’t be caught dead living under these kinds of conditions.” He realized what he’d said and grimaced. “It’s just that she’s always demanded the best that money could buy and had enough money that she never had to compromise.”

“I’m sure there is an explanation,” Samantha said as she watched Alex try several keys before the knob turned and the door swung open.

From what she could see, most of the condo was walled off behind large sheets of plastic with work being done behind them. “Maybe she saw it as a good investment. Investing does run in your family, right?”

Alex shot her a smile. “If you’re trying to make me feel better, it’s working.”

She pushed aside a corner of the plastic into what was the living room and adjoining kitchen. There was new Sheetrock on the walls and new tile on the counters and backsplash in the kitchen. But the cupboards were still missing and there was Sheetrock dust everywhere.

In fact, Samantha could see tracks in the thick white dust on the floor. Alex might be feeling better about all this, but she wasn’t.

Something was wrong here. She just didn’t know what yet.

She followed Alex as he pushed aside another plastic area and opened a door on the right. The master suite and bath—and obviously the first rooms completed because it appeared someone had been living in there. There was carpet on the floor, the rooms were furnished and several items of discarded clothing lay across the foot of the crumpled sheets and duvet on the large unmade bed.

Samantha spotted two champagne glasses and an empty bottle on one of the nightstands. She itched to collect both for prints but couldn’t in front of Alex without making him suspicious. Wedding planners usually didn’t run fingerprints as a sideline.

She would have to come back for them.

ALEX HAD HOPED he’d find something in his sister’s condo that would convince him he had nothing to worry about when it came to his sister’s fiancé. But coming here had done just the opposite.

What the hell was going on with Caroline?

“Well, this was a mistake,” he said and noticed the way Samantha moved to the closet but was careful not to touch anything as if this was a crime scene.

Is that what she suspected? he wondered with a jolt. That Caroline’s hit-and-run wasn’t an accident?

She seemed to scan the clothing inside as if looking for something in particular.

“I’m telling you my sister can’t be staying here,” he said. “Look, when I asked my father, he said that she was in the process of moving and had most of her stuff stored at the house.”

“Isn’t this her clothing?”

He glanced into the closet. While the walk-in closet wasn’t overflowing with clothing so it couldn’t be Caroline’s—at least not yet—there were enough items to make it clear that someone had been staying here.

That’s when he noticed a purse on the top shelf with an odd-print scarf tied to the strap.

“That’s hers,” he said. “I saw her with it one day uptown.” He didn’t mention that he’d ducked in a store to avoid talking to her. It had to be hers. He remembered the unusual scarf.

“I smell her perfume on some of the clothing,” Samantha said from inside the closet. “I also recognize one of the dresses she wore at an appointment I had with her.”

Her movements were slow, purposeful. He found himself watching her rather than looking for evidence of Preston Wellington III in the condo.

At first glance, Samantha Peters wasn’t the type of woman a man would even notice. Hell, he wouldn’t have given her a second glance under other circum-stances. It was the way she dressed, he realized with a jolt.

Not that he knew anything about women’s clothing, but even he could see that the suit she wore was too large for her slim, small frame, the cut all wrong. She wore it like armor, as if protecting herself, he thought with surprise.

And her hair. It was colored too dark for her pale skin and cut shoulder length, long enough that it often covered part of her face.

And those tortoiseshell glasses. The frames took away from the gold in her brown eyes.

He frowned, wondering why she dressed like that. The woman was too savvy for it to be anything but a calculated choice. Almost as if she was hiding from something, he thought, even more intrigued.

He realized she was looking intently at one of the men’s shirts hanging in the closet. “What is it?”

She let go of the sleeve. “Nothing.”

Like hell. As she came out, he slipped past her to reach for the shirt, wondering what she wasn’t telling him. Was she trying to protect him? Why else wouldn’t she tell him?

One glance at the shirt and he saw it was old, looked more like it might belong to one of the construction workers. “Her fiancé left behind only his old clothes, nothing he would bother to come back for. Is that it?”

She turned from where she had stopped midway into the room. “None of this proves anything.”

“You still want to believe this guy really loves my sister and isn’t just using her, don’t you? I admire your optimism,” he said as he joined her in the middle of the large room. “I guess optimism is something you have to have in your line of work given the divorce rate, but I’ve got to tell you, I don’t like any of this.” He glanced around the room. “What the hell is Caroline doing here? You’ve seen her more than I have the last six months. Doesn’t this strike you as odd?”

Samantha seemed to hesitate. “A little. Maybe.”

He looked at her and shook his head, unable not to smile. He actually did admire her for holding out hope that Preston Wellington III was a good guy with good intentions.

“Earlier today I had the feeling that Caroline wanted to tell me something and that’s why she asked me to meet her at your office.”

“You had no idea what it was?” she asked.

He shook his head. “But I can think of only one reason my sister would be living like this. She’s broke. What if her fiancé has taken all of her money and skipped out on her and that’s what she was going to tell me today?”

Samantha frowned. “But why go to the trouble of moving the wedding up three months if that’s the case?”

“Hell, I don’t know. Maybe she thought she could save the relationship by getting him to the altar sooner.”

“Wouldn’t she just elope if that were the case?”

He laughed at that. “My father would cut her off without a cent of her inheritance if she did. No, she has to go through with the big wedding. It’s required of the only daughter of C. B. Graham and she knows that.”

“They were celebrating something,” Samantha said as she nodded toward an empty champagne bottle and two glasses on a nightstand beside the bed.

He’d been so upset over everything he hadn’t even noticed them until now. What would Caroline and Preston have had to celebrate? “He was probably just saying goodbye and she didn’t know it,” Alex said as he moved closer, noticing the lipstick on the rim of one glass and feeling a horrible sinking feeling as he imagined maybe one of his sister’s last happy moments.

That’s when he saw it.

He let out a curse.

“Nonalcoholic champagne?” Turning, he stalked into the bathroom where he found what he was looking for in the small wastebasket beside the commode.

“Holy hell, Caroline’s pregnant,” he said as he came out of the bathroom and saw Samantha Peters’s expression.

She didn’t look the least bit surprised and he realized she’d already figured it out and was way ahead of him.

Hell, he had the feeling she was way ahead of him on a lot of things.

SAMANTHA SAW ALL THE COLOR suddenly drain from Alex’s face.

He grabbed for his cell phone, panic in his expression. “No! The accident today.” He hurriedly tapped in a set of numbers. “Oh, no.”

Samantha went into the unfinished living room while he called the hospital. She stepped through a break in the plastic and opened one of the windows, needing fresh air as she said a short prayer for Caroline’s baby.

She caught movement from the dark shadows of a building across the street. Someone had been standing there looking up at Caroline’s building. The security guard? She couldn’t be sure. But why wouldn’t he just wait in his car on the street? Unless he needed to relieve himself and couldn’t leave the area until his shift was over.

Behind her she heard the rustle of plastic and said another silent prayer before turning. Alex pulled aside the plastic and stepped through into the dimly lit unfinished room.

She held her breath, afraid.

The confirmation of a pregnancy explained a lot—the change in the wedding plans, the way Caroline had looked yesterday, pale and shaky in Samantha’s office—and, unfortunately, possibly the missing fiancé.

“I just talked to the doctor. The baby’s okay,” he said, breathless and scared but looking relieved.

Samantha released the breath she’d been holding and smiled at him, surprised by the tears that misted her eyes. “I’m so glad.”

He nodded and pushed aside the plastic again so they could step back into the bedroom out of the construction area. She watched him move to the middle of the room, his back to her, as if he didn’t know where to go or what to do next. She knew the feeling.

After a moment, he faced her again and she saw that he was angry. “You knew she was pregnant.”

“I suspected,” she admitted. “She wouldn’t be the first bride to move her wedding up because of a pregnancy.”

His expression softened. “Sorry. I just feel like everyone is keeping things from me, you know?”

She knew.

He raked his hand through his hair, making him look all that much more vulnerable—and irresistible.

The stab of desire took her by surprise. Her first in a long, long time. She smothered it the way she would have a flickering candle. But unlike a candle flame, this still burned, a slow smoldering burn inside her that never let her quite forget.

“I have to admit, when she moved the wedding up three months, I did wonder,” he said and lowered himself onto the edge of the bed, then seemed to think better of it and shot back up. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

She glanced back at the champagne glasses and bottle. She would come back. It would be fairly easy given that there was no security system installed in the condo yet and she’d made a point of letting the security guard see her—not that she planned to get caught when she returned.

Looking up, she felt a jolt as she saw that Alex Graham was watching her, frowning slightly—almost as if he could see beneath her oversize suits, the glasses, the dyed hair to the woman she tried so hard to hide.

Chapter Four

Alex seemed lost in thought as they left the condo—making her even more convinced he was on to her.

As she slid behind the wheel of the pickup, he looked over at her, his eyes narrowing. His expression changed so quickly, he caught her off guard. “I’m starved. I know you haven’t had dinner because I’ve been dragging you all over Miami.” He smiled, bathing her in soft warmth.

Food was the last thing she’d have expected he would want right now. She looked away for a moment, trying to come up with a good excuse and regain her balance.

“I know this great little Mexican food place,” he was saying, his enthusiasm growing. “Lupita makes a chile verde that is to die for. Fresh homemade tortillas. And the best margaritas in Southern Florida. Tell me you like Mexican food,” he said starting the engine.

She didn’t have the heart to tell him that she avoided spicy food. It didn’t go with her wedding planner persona. But his enthusiasm was contagious. “Who doesn’t like Mexican food?” she said, smiling as she turned back to him.

He gave her one of his heart-stopping smiles. “You should do that more often,” he said, suddenly serious again.

“What?” She hadn’t realized she’d done anything.

“Smile. It looks good on you.”

She ducked her head, embarrassed by the way she felt when Alex Graham looked at her like that. It was as if he could see behind the facade. That he could see her. The real her. And if that was true, then she was in big trouble.

As he drove toward the café, she looked out her side window, trying to get her feet back under her. Alex Graham was like a whirlwind. He caught you up, taking you places you never expected to go, promising the wildest ride of your life. But she knew that eventually he’d let her down. Men always did. And the drop back to reality this time would be a killer.

Something caught her eye in her side mirror. She’d seen that car earlier when they’d left Weddings Your Way. One of the headlights had a different bulb in it giving the car the appearance of winking.

The car was staying back, changing lanes, even disappearing for short periods of time. Whoever was driving knew what he was doing.

As Alex pulled into the dark parking lot next to the café, Samantha saw the nondescript tan car drive past. She only got a glimpse of the man behind the wheel, his face in shadow.

“You all right?” Alex asked.

“Sorry, just daydreaming,” she said with a shrug.

He nodded, but she could tell that he’d seen her reaction when she’d realized they were being followed. He didn’t seem to miss much but he let it go as he insisted on opening her door as if they were on a date.

The café was small and quiet no doubt because it was late and a weekday night. Samantha excused herself to freshen up. In the empty ladies’ room, she used her cell phone to call Rachel.

In as few words as possible, Samantha filled her in.

Rachel let out a low whistle when Samantha finished. “You’re sure Preston was the man who shared the champagne with Caroline in her condo?”

“No. But I smelled his aftershave. He’d been in the condo recently. That doesn’t mean there isn’t another man.”

“What’s bothering you?” Rachel asked. “I hear it in your voice.”

Rachel knew her too well. Samantha glanced at her watch. She had to get back to Alex before he began to worry—and wonder. “The men’s clothing in the closet. It’s all wrong.” She explained that the shirts were an inferior brand, constructed of cheap fabric and worn at the cuffs. “They weren’t shirts a man like the one I met with Caroline would wear.”

“So there could be another man,” Rachel said.

A man at the opposite end of the financial spectrum. “There is the possibility that Preston Wellington III found out about the other man,” Samantha told her boss.

“Which you think could mean Caroline’s hit-and run was no accident,” Rachel said.

“It does make me wonder since Alex Graham and I seemed to have picked up a tail. I can’t help but wonder what someone is afraid we’re going to find out.”

VICTOR CONSTANTINE was used to taking orders. He wasn’t even that particular who was doing the ordering but he had to admit, he didn’t like his latest job any more than he liked the arrogant voice on the other end of the line.

He had two simple rules. He never knew who he was working for. He didn’t care. And his jobs came in by word of mouth, which meant he only did jobs for clients who’d been referred through other clients. The kind of people who had the kind of money required for his unique services.

It made his life easier that way. He received a call, waited for the money to appear electronically in a numbered account and then he did the job.

The more dangerous the job, the more money went into his account. Victor had an ironclad reputation for getting the job done, no matter how dirty. It had made him a rich man, a man on the verge of retiring at a very young age.

That’s why he was having trouble taking orders from his latest “client.” The guy was an arrogant bastard, Victor thought as he dialed the number he’d been given.

The man didn’t even say hello. “Where the hell are you? I told you to let me know what was going on.”

Victor was hot, tired and hungry and he didn’t like being talked to like this. “Why do you think I’m calling?” he snapped, silently reminding himself how much he was getting paid. His fees tended to triple when he didn’t like the job—or the client.

Victor glanced up the street. “After the hospital, he drove to Weddings Your Way, picked up a woman and drove to a seedy part of town.” He gave the client the address and heard the man let out an oath under his breath.

“The woman is still with him?”

Victor described her. “They’re in some dive of a Mexican café across the street eating dinner.”

“He took her out to eat?”

Yeah, exactly what Victor should have been doing right now instead of sitting down the street in the dark. “Apparently so. I’d like to have some dinner myself.”

“I don’t pay you to eat.”

“You don’t pay me enough to miss meals, either.”

Silence. “I’m sorry you missed your supper. But with what I pay you, I’m sure you can order in later.”

Victor smiled to himself. The man had no idea.

“Call me when they leave the restaurant and stay with them. Don’t let them out of your sight.” The line went dead.

Victor stared down at the phone for a moment, then thought, what the hell. He called information, got the number of the Mexican café and ordered himself the nightly special: a plate of seafood enchiladas, beans and rice.

“Do you want that delivered?” the female voice on the other end of the line inquired.

Victor smiled. “As a matter of fact I’m parked just down the street. There is a big tip in it if you get it out to me in a hurry.”

AS SAMANTHA returned to the café, she glanced at the other tables. A few people had come in. But none were singles. None, she surmised, was the person who’d been following them.

Alex looked up as if sensing her return, never taking his eyes off her from the time she started toward the table until she sat down.

It didn’t just surprise her that he could unnerve her the way he did. It scared her. The wall she’d thrown up and her cool reserve, coupled with the way she dressed and acted, kept most men at a distance. But then Alex Graham wasn’t most men. That point was starting to hit home.

“Thank you,” he said when she was seated again. “You’ve been great tonight. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you going with me to the condo. I really don’t think I could have done that alone. You’ve been amazing.”

She felt embarrassed by the compliment. “I’m just glad I could help.” Help, indeed, she thought with a stab of guilt at just the thought of returning to the condo for the champagne bottle and glasses. Who was helping whom?

“So tell me. How did you become a wedding planner?”

She picked up a corn chip and gave him her standard reply. “You wouldn’t believe it if I told you.”

“Try me.”

She looked at him and saw that he seemed to genuinely be interested. Maybe too interested? Talking about that part of her job seemed safe enough. As if being here in this dark intimate café with Alex was safe.

“Well, there’s not much to tell,” she said, going with the abbreviated version. “I met Rachel and she offered me the job. I had no experience but I guess she saw what a detail person I am….”

“You had no experience as a wedding planner? You don’t strike me as one of those women who always dreamed of her own wedding day,” he said.

She’d been playing with the chip but now set it down on her napkin. She could feel the heat of his gaze and felt her throat go dry. “No. I always thought I’d elope.” Her smile felt like plastic left out too long in the sun. “But I can understand why some couples want a large wedding. For most people it’s the biggest event they will ever…” He’d made her remember how she’d once pictured her own wedding.

“Endure?” he suggested when she didn’t go on.

She could only nod.

“Frankly? It sounds awful,” he said as if he’d seen her discomfort. “Months of planning and hassle for a few minutes before a preacher. Months and months of planning.”

She took a drink of the beer the waiter put in front of her, thankful to him for saving her from a strained silence. “It does take a lot of planning because basically you’re putting on a theatrical production not that much different from a Broadway play.”

“Interesting perspective and appropriate since a wedding has so little to do with a marriage, don’t you think?”

She smiled. “The wedding is fantasy, that’s for sure. Some more than others. Look at some of the popular wedding themes. Antony and Cleopatra, Romeo and Juliet, Lancelot and Guinevere and then there are Royalty and Fairyland weddings, weddings In the Clouds, On the Rooftop, By the Sea…”

He laughed. “I had no idea.” He shook his head, seeming to be enjoying himself. “No wonder I’ve never gotten married.” He turned serious. “I don’t mean to make light of what you do, but it really is a lot of smoke and mirrors, isn’t it.”

If he only knew. Both of her jobs were a lot of both. She began to relax. “We joke that we’re in show business. But if you put on a great show everyone is happy and that’s what it’s all about.”

They snacked on the chips and salsa for a few moments, a comfortable silence falling between them.

“Three months isn’t enough for the type of show my father wants, is it,” he said after a while.

“Not really,” she admitted. “I’m going to have to pull a few rabbits out of my hat but don’t worry, I won’t let your sister down.”

He smiled almost ruefully. “I’m sure you won’t but it might not be a problem. There might not be a wedding because there might not be a groom.” He held up his hands as if in surrender. “I know. You’re convinced this fiancé of hers is in love with her and wouldn’t desert her—especially pregnant. I hope you’re right.”

So did she, but it was getting tougher to keep making excuses for Preston Wellington III.

ALEX COULDN’T REMEMBER a meal he’d enjoyed more. While Caroline was never far from his thoughts, he stopped obsessing over her missing fiancé. He liked the idea of being an uncle. It wasn’t like Caroline would be alone or penniless. He would see to that.

Even though he wasn’t sure he should, he liked Samantha Peters. She’d drawn him out, asking about his job as a fireman. She’d seemed genuinely interested and had laughed at his stories from the firehouse. He’d steered clear of the anguish that often came with his job.

As they finished their meal, he asked, “The woman who was abducted. Have they found her?”

Samantha shook her head. “There’s been no word.”

He was shocked to hear it and even more shocked to realize he hadn’t given the other woman a thought. He’d been too involved with his sister’s hit-and-run.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “You think she was kidnapped?”

“I don’t know.”

“But no ransom demand has been made yet?” he asked, still convinced that there had to be a connection between his sister and the driver of that car.

“Not that I’ve heard.”

“Thank you again,” he said. Just looking at her made him feel better.

“It’s been my pleasure—” She broke off, seemingly a little flustered. It wasn’t like her and he found himself smiling at her again. “I enjoyed dinner,” she amended.

“Me, too.” His gaze locked with hers, her brown eyes seeming to shimmer. He wanted to reach across the table and remove her glasses, brush her hair back from her face and—

Her cell phone rang. He watched her glance at the caller ID and saw her expression change.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I need to take this.”

He nodded, the moment lost as she got up and stepped away from the table. He didn’t know if he should feel disappointment. Or relief. He had been about to make a fool of himself.

“PETERS,” SAMANTHA SAID into the phone, hoping this was going to be good news.

“Samantha, it’s Rachel. I just wanted to let you know that you were right about the black limo. Looks like it was stolen off a car lot in Fort Lauderdale. Matches the description.”

“Has the car been found?” Samantha asked, glad she had gotten something right since there was a good chance that she’d been wrong about Caroline’s fiancé.

“Not yet,” Rachel said. “How are things at your end?”

Interesting. “Fine,” she said glancing back toward the table and Alex. “I’m still going by the hospital tonight. I thought I’d drop in on Craig Johnson. I know it’s late, but maybe he’s remembered something. I’ll visit Caroline tomorrow, instead.”

“Good idea.”

She rang off and walked back to the table.

Alex was just putting his cell phone away. He’d paid their dinner bill and looked anxious.

“I should get to the hospital. Would you mind if we stopped on the way back?” he asked, rising.

She’d hoped to go to the hospital alone but maybe she could make this work and save herself a trip since she would have to go back to the condo as it was. “Of course not. Is everything all right?”

He nodded, his expression grim. “No change.”

Samantha felt the weight of his disappointment and her own. She’d been on such a roller coaster of emotions. Now, she felt too warm from the spicy food and the entertaining company. Mostly, she’d felt too content just before the phone call from Rachel.

And that was dangerous. She needed to get back to work behind the scenes, back to what made her feel safe and that was far away from Alex Graham.

At the hospital, they rode together up the elevator to Caroline’s floor. “I’ll wait here for you,” she said as he started down the hall. She noticed that a guard had been posted outside Caroline’s door. “Is that your doing?” she asked, surprised.

“I hired guards 24-7 to keep an eye on her. I’m still not convinced the hit-and-run was an accident. And until I am…”

“Can’t hurt having the guard here, especially if it makes you feel better.”

“You make me feel better,” he said touching her hand and seeming not to notice when she flinched at his surprise touch. “I won’t be long.”

“Take your time. Really.”

She headed down the hall toward the nurses’ station, slowing as Alex nodded to the private guard and entered his sister’s room. Before the door closed, Samantha caught a glimpse of Caroline lying in the bed surrounded by equipment. It was so sad to see this beautiful, young woman bandaged and broken, let alone to think about the baby she was carrying.

In her line of work, Samantha dealt with bad guys all the time—just not up close and personal. For the first time, she was on the front lines and she’d never wanted to see justice done more than she did right now. She would do anything to find the person behind Sonya Botero’s abduction, behind Caroline Graham’s hit-and-run—even if it turned out that she’d been wrong about Preston Wellington III and he was involved.

She walked down to the nurses’ station on the pretense of inquiring about Caroline Graham’s condition. As she spoke with the nurse, Samantha noted Craig Johnson’s room number. It was just up the hall from Caroline’s room.

Alex was still in with his sister as Samantha passed the guard. She waited until he was busy reading a magazine in his chair outside Caroline’s door before Samantha headed for the chauffeur-bodyguard’s room.

She recalled what she’d witnessed earlier from the front window of Weddings Your Way. The driver of the car carrying the men who’d abducted Sonya Botero had appeared to purposely try to run down Johnson before striking Caroline Graham. Had there been more than one target?

She hesitated at the door to Johnson’s room. According to the Miami Confidential team, he was complaining of headaches and claiming he couldn’t recall anything about the incident.

Talking to him would no doubt prove to be a waste of time and possibly make Johnson suspicious, but maybe he had remembered something by now. Something that would help.

She pushed the door to his room partially open and stopped at the sound of his raised voice. He was speaking to someone, his tone strained.

She froze as he moved into her field of vision and she saw that he was on the phone, pacing back and forth in front of the window, his back to her. Cautiously he lifted a corner of the blind and peered out to the street.

“I’m telling you they tried to run me down,” Johnson said. “I was almost killed. What if they try again?”

So much for him not remembering anything about the incident, she thought, and wondered if he might be right about being in danger. But why kill him? There were other witnesses at the scene.

Thinking of the killers hitting Johnson here at the hospital, she heard movement behind her and whirled around, all her FBI self-defense training coming back in a rush.

ALEX HARDLY RECOGNIZED the woman who spun on him, her hands going up in a self-defense move. He jerked back in nothing short of shock. Even Samantha’s expression wasn’t one he’d seen before. She looked ready to kick his butt. More than that, she looked scared as if she’d been expecting someone to harm her.

“You all right?” he asked, glancing toward the hospital door she’d just let close. He’d caught her eavesdropping. Had she overheard something that frightened her?

“Sorry,” she said instantly, seeming embarrassed. “You startled me.”

“I guess.”

“I was just checking to see how Mr. Johnson was doing.”

Mr. Johnson, from what Alex had overheard, was the driver of the limo, the man who was attacked and his client abducted.

“He seems to be on the phone,” Samantha said, with a nonchalance that she didn’t quite pull off.

Alex had noticed Johnson on the phone when he’d come up behind her.

“How is Caroline?” Apparently she’d expected him to spend more time with his sister.

“The same,” he said, wondering again about Samantha. Just about the time he thought he might be figuring her out, she threw him another curve.

Suddenly, he felt exhausted as if the day’s events had finally caught up with him. “I should get you back,” he said. “It’s late. I didn’t mean to take up so much of your time.”

“Really, it hasn’t been a problem. Dinner was wonderful, but I’ll take a cab back,” she said quickly as if she wanted to get away from him. “After the day you’ve had, you must be anxious to get home. Like you said, it’s late, and you look drained. No reason to go out of your way.”

How did she know that her office wasn’t on his way home? “It’s too late for you to go back to your office tonight anyway,” he said, suddenly wondering where she lived and why she was trying to get rid of him. “Let me take you home. I’d be happy to give you a ride to work in the morning. Just tell me what time to be there.”

She started to argue but he stopped her.

“I won’t hear of you taking a cab. Not after you were kind enough to spend the evening with me. I really didn’t want to be alone. So you must let me take you home.”

“I have to go back to the office tonight before I can go home.”

Why wasn’t he surprised? “Well, then I’m taking you.”

She nodded as if she’d accepted that he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. But he could see that she would have much preferred taking a cab. Why was that? Earlier they’d been so close. But now she seemed uncomfortable in his presence and had been ever since he’d caught her listening in at the chauffeur’s hospital room door. Or was it after he’d caught her in her self-defense mode and seen her expression?

Either way, he’d heard enough to know that this Mr. Johnson was scared—and that the man thought the driver of the black limo had purposely tried to kill him and might try again.

And all this just when Alex had almost convinced himself there was nothing going on, that Caroline’s accident had been just that—an accident.

As they reached the outer door, he took Samantha’s elbow and felt her jump at his touch—her reaction even more pronounced than it had been the other time.

Who was Samantha Peters—a woman who seemed to do everything possible not to be noticed?

Whatever her motivation, he told himself he had every right—and possibly every reason—to find out more about this woman his sister had been working with over the past six months.

Chapter Five

Victor Constantine had the worst case of heartburn he’d ever had in his life. He knew better than to eat spicy food. He parked down the street and watched as the woman got out of the man’s pickup.

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