“You think you can just eyeball me and decide what size I am?”
Oh damn…the corner of his mouth curled up and he gave her a cocky nod. “Bet I can get pretty close.”
That simple phrase clearly said the man had seen a lot of women, of various shapes and sizes, naked. And had taken careful inventory.
She believed him. She also knew those women had been just fine with his up-close study.
The jittery feeling in her stomach—and lower—intensified and she took a deep breath. She didn’t like being off-kilter. When she dealt with people they always thought they had the upper hand. But they were wrong.
With Zander Landry, she had a feeling he had the upper hand. And they both knew it.
“Well, let me help you out with that,” she said. She reached behind her for the zipper on her dress, drew it down, let the heavy material fall down her body, and stepped out of the mound of silk and sequins.
Then she stood in front of him in her strapless bra, white panties, and sheer slip. She propped a hand on a hip and tipped her head. “Now you can get a better idea of my size and shape.”
He didn’t react. At all.
He didn’t blink. He didn’t shift. He didn’t cough. All he did was the take-in-every-little-detail thing again. And her nipples and stomach and a sweet, achy spot between her legs that had been asleep for a very long time all said, please notice me, me, me!
Then he gave a single nod and said, “Yep. Very helpful. Thanks.” He pivoted on his heel and started for the door.
What?!
“Wait!”
He looked back.
“I need your help, Zander.”
She knew she had to look like she was about to cry again. She really needed him to listen.
Suddenly he was back, standing right in front of her, towering over her. “Don’t push me, Caroline.”
She felt her eyes go wide and round. “Wha—what?”
“One minute you’re all ballsy and bold walking into my grandma’s bar. The next you’re crying and all desperate on the floor in the foyer. Then you’re awkward and sweet and can’t even get up the damned stairs by yourself. Then you just strip your clothes off.” He leaned in. “I know you’re trying to figure out which one I’ll react to—the boldness, the tears, the seduction…well, the thing is, it’s all working. I’m here. I’m going to help. Stop. Playing. Me.”
Caroline knew she was staring.
He’d figured her out.
At least in part. Not all of those moments had been specifically planned out and she hadn’t been playing him consciously every one of those times. But…that was what she did. She figured people out and then did whatever it took to make them trust her, or feel sorry for her, or ignore her, or, yes, sometimes want her. Whatever got her close enough to get what she wanted from them.
She wet her lips. “Pushing you is the last thing I want. I want to…pull you.”
His eyebrows slammed together.
Yeah, that had sounded stupid.
“I mean…as in…I want to pull you closer. Keep you close. Stay close. I don’t want to push you away, that’s for sure. I need your help and you make me feel…” She frowned, but what was the harm in admitting it? She wasn’t playing this guy. It was true. “Safe,” she finally finished. “I feel like I can trust you.”
He studied her face for a moment, his eyes intent on hers. “Trust me for what?”
“There’s a group illegally buying, selling, and transporting exotic endangered animals. I can…tell you all about them.” Okay, she couldn’t tell him all about them. That was the problem. She’d needed more time being engaged to Brantley and in his family’s inner circle to get all the details. But she had some. “I need help breaking it up.” Actually, she needed to give the information to someone who would do the breaking up. That wasn’t her role. She gathered the intel and passed it on.
Zander scowled. But said nothing.
“I can even give you documents.”
Fine. It was two emails and two texts. But she had to give this information to someone and she’d—clearly—burned her bridge with the Andersons today. She was going to have to hope that Zander Landry was not just a good guy…that he was a good cop too.
“Later,” he finally said shortly.
“But—”
“Clothes first.” Then he walked to the door, pulling it shut behind him. But before it latched, he leaned back in. “Stay here.” The door shut firmly as he disappeared through it.
Caroline stood staring at the heavy wood for several long seconds.
Crap. Now what?
She looked around. She didn’t have a whole lot of choices. She felt safe here. And what was she going to do? Hitchhike in the hot pink corset? And where was she hitchhiking to exactly? Because she was pretty sure she’d get a ride. She was equally sure she would not want that ride.
At least she wasn't currently standing in the bridal suite of some stupidly expensive hotel as Brantley Anderson's new wife.
But she had no plan.
She'd always known this day would come, and that she'd have to figure something else out when it did, but she'd really thought it would be her choice. When she'd woken up this morning and gotten ready to go to Wallace Anderson's would-be surprise birthday party, she really hadn't prepared for this to be the day that everything fell apart.
She'd always known there would come a time when she would be ostracized from her family’s social circle and cut off from access to the information about their corrupt, greedy ways.
But she’d really thought she’d have clothes on when it happened.
4
Yep, that was definitely Caroline Holland.
Caroline Camille Holland. Age 26. Interior designer. Daughter of Charles and Gretchen Holland. Engaged to Brantley Austin Anderson. Age 23. Engaged three months ago.
Zander blinked at that. They'd only been engaged for three months and their families had thought that throwing her a surprise wedding was a good idea? And Brantley was only twenty-three. A younger man.
Zander should not be this interested. Or annoyed. He was looking her up to see if there was more to her story than what she'd already told him. There was always more than what people told him. Well, except his family. The Landrys typically told him, and everyone else, more than they needed—or wanted—to know. There was no such thing as a filter for the Landrys.
But as far as he could tell, Caroline was who she said she was. She was Charles Holland's daughter, she’d been engaged to be married, the guy who had tried to pull her into the limo was her brother Christopher, who was apparently Brantley's best friend, and she'd been wearing that huge-ass diamond ring on her left hand for the past three months.
Zander slammed the top of his laptop shut.
That ring was fucking ugly.
And the fact that he had an opinion about her engagement ring was fucking annoying.
There was nothing new in any of the information he had dug up. Caroline had no arrest records, not even a parking ticket. There were no scandals around her. The only social gossip was her engagement. Which was really more fact than gossip. It might have been more of a story if Brantley hadn’t been a friend of the family and if Caroline’s family wasn’t just as rich as the Andersons were, but this looked every bit the combining of two wealthy families in the age-old tradition of marrying to merge assets.