FIRE AND ICE (22 page)

“Guess this can’t be shown on the six o’clock news,” Pittman remarked.

“Maybe the porno channel,” Jack replied.

The screen went dark and Pittman spun her chair around, emptying the rest of the envelope’s contents onto the desk. “Bobby Rose also sent us statement copies of three accounts, all with rather large sums of money. The accounts were under fake names, but our people checked. The money belonged to the Devoes … and you’ll notice I said
belonged.
The money was in the accounts, but it’s gone now. We tracked it as far as we could, and the only thing we’re sure of is that the Devoes didn’t withdraw it. However, I rather doubt either one of them will report it stolen.

“I think the Devoes have been squirreling away Kelly’s money for years, enough to tide them over until they can get to the big money: the retirement savings. If they play the victim and cry that they’re penniless, people are less likely to accuse them of having anything to do with the lost retirement money. Those investment funds were stripped, all right, and I don’t think Bobby Rose had anything
to do with it. Maybe I’m being naïve, but my guess is that Bobby Rose emptied these accounts and knows exactly where the retirement money is.”

Jack thumbed through the stack of account statements. “You’re sure all of this came from Bobby Rose?” he asked.

“Positive,” Pittman said. She picked up a folded card and handed it to him. “This came with the video and the records.”

The card read:
More to come. Bobby Rose.

Pittman continued. “If history has shown us anything, it’s that Bobby Rose doesn’t let innocent people suffer. He’s got something up his sleeve, and we’re going to let this play out. And we’re also going to do right by his daughter, like we should have from the beginning. Plus, Rose will be grateful that we’re watching out for her.”

Jack nodded. “I’ll protect her.”

“See that you do,” Pittman ordered. “Jennifer has your schedule. Oh, and Agent MacAlister, one last thing …”

Jack stopped at the door. “Yes?”

“Watch out for polar bears.”

S
OPHIE FOUND OUT JACK WAS GOING TO ALASKA WITH HER
when he showed up at her door and told her so. When the doorbell rang, she had assumed it was Gil. He had said he would be checking on her before she left for Alaska. He was such a nice man, he even offered to drive her to the airport tomorrow afternoon. She appreciated the kind gesture, but she suspected that at least part of his motivation was penance for squealing on her. Who
hadn’t
he told that she was heading to Alaska?

Gil and his posse, as he liked to call his team, were still taking turns watching out for her. As long as the shooter was on the loose, Gil and his friends would be bodyguards. Alec and Aiden insisted on it. It was pointless to argue because they were going to do what they were going to do whether Sophie approved or not. Thankfully, once she was on the plane and away from Chicago, Gil’s services wouldn’t be needed.

She should have looked through the peephole before she opened the door.

“You’re early—You’re not Gil.”

Jack looked exasperated. “No, I’m not. Move out of my way, Sophie.”

She automatically stepped back, allowing him entrance—another dumb move. It would be easier to tell him to go away if he were in the hall.

“I’m going to Alaska with you,” he matter-of-factly informed her.

It took a couple of seconds for the announcement to settle. Reeling from the surprise, she protested, “What? No! You’re not going.”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he replied. “I am, and that’s final.”

Dropping his duffel bag in the foyer, he walked past her. She caught the scent of his aftershave. Very appealing … musky and masculine.

Not relevant!
her mind screamed. “You hate cold weather,” she said aloud.

“Sure do.”

“Then why—”

“I’m going, Sophie. Deal with it.”

Deal with it? I don’t think so.
“I’m perfectly capable of traveling by myself,” she argued. “I don’t want anyone to go with me.”

He tossed his heavy sheepskin coat on the back of her sofa. He was wearing a T-shirt that showed off his muscular arms and chest, and a pair of jeans that looked as though they’d been purchased at the fifth-hand store. Did the jerk have to be so … built?

“
Want
and
need
are two completely different things,” he answered as he settled into an easy chair, kicked off his shoes, and reached for the television remote. “I sure don’t want to go with you, but here I am.”

She took a tentative step forward. “You’ll just get in my way.”

“I probably will, but I’m still going. What channel is the Food Network on?”

“What … the food … ?”

“Never mind, I’ll find it. You look a little confused. Have you packed yet?”

Sophie continued standing in the foyer, stunned. “No … I’ll pack tomorrow. I don’t leave until late afternoon. Why is your duffle here?”

“Our plans have changed, Sophie.”

She ran her fingers through her hair.
“Our
plans?
We
don’t have any plans.”

“Sure we do,” he said cheerfully. “We’re leaving on a seven a.m. flight to Fairbanks, which is why I’m spending the night.”

This announcement sent her rushing into the living room. “That can’t be. I’m flying out tomorrow afternoon. I’ve already paid for my ticket.”

She stopped in front of the television, blocking his view. He motioned for her to move to the left.

“Ah, here it is,” he said. “Bobby Flay is doing paella. I’ve always wanted to know how to make it.” He added, “The transaction was voided.”

She tried to clear her head. “It’s a nonrefundable ticket.”

“I work for the FBI, Sophie. When I tell you the charge was erased, you can believe me.”

Still incredulous, she asked, “Who changed my reservation?”

She shifted from one foot to the other with her hands on her hips; her elbow blocking his view. Once again he motioned for her to move. She complied without thinking.

“Jennifer,” he answered. “She made the reservations. Ah, man, look at that food processor. I’ve got to get one of those.”

“Jennifer who?” Sophie’s frustration was brimming over.

“I don’t know her last name.”

“Of course you do.”

“No, I really don’t.”

Sophie took a deep breath. This was maddening. None of it made any sense. She decided to approach the situation rationally. “Even if for some reason I have to take an earlier flight, there’s absolutely
no reason for you to come along, and there’s certainly no reason for you to stay here tonight.”

“Oh yes there is,” he countered. “If we’re going to make it to the airport on time, we’ll need to be out of bed by four-thirty a.m.”

“I’m not sleeping with you.”

“Yeah, okay,” he said, never taking his eyes off the television as he watched Bobby Flay toss clams and lobster claws into the pan.

“Just like that? Okay? No argument?” She was appalled by the disappointment she heard in her own voice.

“No argument,” he said. “If you change your mind, let me know.”

Without a word, Sophie went to her linen closet and pulled out a thick down comforter and pillow. After dumping them on the sofa, she said, “This discussion isn’t over,” then headed to her bedroom and shut the door.

She needed time to think. Why would Jack want to go to Alaska? He hated the cold. Alec had something to do with this; she was sure of it. She’d deal with him later. She had to think of a way to convince Jack to be reasonable and stay in Chicago, but for now she had a much bigger problem: Jack, just beyond the door, sleeping on her sofa.

It was one thing for Gil to camp out in her living room. He was old enough to be her grandfather. He was also sweet. Jack, on the other hand, wasn’t at all sweet or considerate. He was rude, arrogant, and stubborn, but also sexy and gorgeous. Every time she looked at him, all sorts of crazy notions popped into her head … like jumping his bones.

It was that kiss, that stupid kiss that made her curious to know what it would be like to sleep with him. No, not curious. Hot. Hot for him. And what did that say about her morals? She did still have them, didn’t she?

Sophie was determined to stay away from him until morning. No waffling on that. She’d let him drive her to the airport, and on
the way she would surely come up with something to make him change his mind.

Okay plan made. She showered, washed her hair, and took her time blowing it dry. She put on her sexiest nightgown, but only because she happened to like the pink lacy top. It was a short gown that didn’t quite come to her knees. She probably should change into something more modest, but why? Jack wasn’t about to see what she was wearing to bed.

She kept up the ridiculous pretense until she had applied lip gloss. Oh, yes, she always went to bed wearing lip gloss. Never know who might come knocking on the door in the middle of the night.

She stared at herself in the mirror, then reached for a tissue to remove the lip gloss. She sighed. She still wanted to rip Jack’s clothes off and kiss every inch of his body. When it came to Jack, she didn’t know right from wrong.

No matter what, she wasn’t going to open that door. She circled her bed, pulled the covers back, and then set her alarm clock and her cell phone to wake her at the ungodly hour of four-thirty a.m.

Daddy! She suddenly remembered that her father would be calling her at midnight. She knew she couldn’t stay up till then if she had to get up at four-thirty, and that meant she should call him now and leave a long message on his voice mail. She could hear Jack talking on the phone in the living room. This would be the perfect time for her to call, but as she was heading to her closet, Jack knocked on her door.

“Sophie, you got a minute?”

Say no. Just say no.
“I’ll be right there.”

Okay, new plan,
she decided.
At least take the time to put on a robe before opening the door. No reason to give him the idea that you might be even remotely interested in … what did he call it? … oh yes … getting friendly.

She didn’t reach for her robe. Yes, her nightgown was on the short side and a bit low-cut, but he couldn’t see through it unless he had X-ray vision. The silk wasn’t transparent. Besides, women
wore much less clothing to a Chicago beach. What was the big worry?

The beach didn’t have a bed, nor the privacy for a man and a woman to do whatever they wanted. That was one gigantic worry.

Do not open the door.

She opened the door. “Yes?” she said sweetly.

Jack stood with his phone in his hand for several seconds, never taking his eyes off hers.

“Jack? Did you want something?” she prodded.

“Alec called,” he answered.

Sophie couldn’t read his expression.

“What did he want?” She was becoming more embarrassed by the second as she waited for Jack to say something about her nightgown, but he didn’t say a word about the way she was dressed … or undressed.

“To say good-bye, I guess. Your hall bath doesn’t have a shower. Think I could use yours? Where are the towels?”

“Linen closet.” She was surprised she managed to get the words out.

He shook his head. “I looked. None there.”

“Look in the dryer. Laundry room is just off the kitchen.”

“Okay, thanks,” he said as he slowly pulled the door closed.

He was gone. Sophie’s insecurities came roaring back. Had he even noticed? She glanced down at herself and shook her head. She certainly hadn’t made much of an impact on him, had she? She had thought this nightgown was sexy, but if that were so, then apparently the woman wearing it wasn’t. Maybe she was the problem, not the gown.

Sophie was used to men noticing her. She liked to flirt, but she didn’t tease, and she knew the difference. She did not sleep around. Truth was, she was as much of a prude as Cordie—although her friend called it being old-fashioned. Unlike Sophie, Cordie allowed herself to have dreams. She wanted to get married and have children, but there was one little glitch in her happy-ever-after fantasy:
Cordie was madly in love with Aiden Hamilton, and he, stupid man that he was, didn’t have a clue.

Sophie was thinking about Cordie’s predicament when it suddenly dawned on her how foolish her own behavior was. She had never seduced a man, and why she thought it would be okay with Jack was beyond her. She didn’t have an excuse except that she had let lust control her thoughts. Fortunately, she had come to her senses.

Jack knocked on her door again. This time Sophie didn’t run for her lip gloss or play silly mental games about her appearance. She was through acting like an idiot.