World's Most Eligible Texan (10 page)

“My sister knows him and thinks he's a good doctor. I've heard her talk about him. Yes, I approve.”

She rubbed her forehead. “Whether you approve or not, Aaron, this is my choice of doctors.”

“Sure, darlin'. Are you still planning to do substitute teaching?”

“Yes, I enjoy teaching and I can keep busy with substituting. Actually, I haven't signed up to sub yet because I was waiting for my ankle to heal. When I teach, I'm on my feet most of the day, but I'm able to do that now, I think.”

“Which school will you teach in?”

He listened, steering the conversation away from anything personal while they were served drinks and later were served their dinners. At first she was stiff and remote, but gradually she relaxed somewhat, although she was still guarded. She seemed to have as little appetite as he did.

“You're barely eating. That can't be good.”

She shrugged. “It won't last. I just don't feel hungry tonight.”

Neither did he. Placing his fork in his plate, he reached across the table to take her hand, holding it lightly in his. “I want to marry you.”

She shook her head. “Thank you, Aaron, but no. I want to marry for love. How many times have you said, ‘I love you' to me? Or have I said it to you?” Before he could reply, she spoke again. “Don't declare your love now. You haven't said ‘I love you' to me because you don't love me.”

“I think I am in love.”

“Oh, please, Aaron! You're doing what you think is right.”

“No, I'm not,” he replied and it hurt him to see the pain in her blue eyes. He ached to pull her into his arms and convince her to marry him.

“Aaron, I saw the look on your face when you realized I was pregnant. It wasn't joy.”

“No, it was surprise,” he admitted honestly. He leaned forward. “How did you learn that you're pregnant?”

“Dr. Woodbury told me.”

“And wasn't your first reaction surprise?”

She gave him another exasperated look.

“Answer me, Pamela. Wasn't your first reaction surprise?”

“Maybe it was, but it didn't last long.”

“Neither did my surprise. But you can't hold surprise against me when that was the exact same reaction you had.”

She stood abruptly. “I want to go home.”

He knew he had gotten to her on the last. He held her coat for her and draped his arm across her shoulders as they left the restaurant.

In the car Pamela sat with her arms crossed tightly in front of her. They were going back to her apartment, and she knew they would have another battle and this time the little girls wouldn't interrupt and end it. She glanced at Aaron. He could be so darned persuasive! But when she thought of the future, she knew she was right. He wasn't really in love. Never once had a declaration of love crossed his lips. It might now, but she wouldn't believe it. She just needed to stand firm and then he would go on his way and that would be that.

As he drove, she watched him. His hands were well-shaped, blunt fingers with nails trimmed short. He was handsome, intelligent, the best daddy for her baby.

He glanced in the rearview mirror.

“Are we being followed?” she asked.

“No, we're not.”

She couldn't imagine he was right about anyone following her. Why would someone follow her? She didn't have anything valuable. As they approached her apartment, a muscle worked in his jaw, and her pulse raced. She knew he would finally have to come to grips with her decision. This would be their last date. He would kiss her. Anticipation made her pulse fly, but he wasn't kissing her into accepting his marriage
proposal. No way would she yield on that. Longing for him stabbed her, and she wanted to reach out and put her hand in his, but she couldn't.

Instead, she hugged her middle and slid out of the car when he held the door open for her. When she took her key out of her purse, his fingers closed over hers to take the key from her.

“Aaron, why don't we just say goodbye right here and right now? It would be so much more pleasant than arguing about our futures.”

He unlocked the door, shoved it open and switched on the light. “Let's go inside,” he said, stepping back.

“It won't do you any good,” she stated, looking into his green eyes that blazed with determination. Taking a deep breath and knowing she was going into a contest of wills and a fierce verbal struggle, she moved past him into her apartment. Stunned, she halted.

With swiftly mounting horror she stared at overturned drawers, clothing, books and papers strewn everywhere, furniture slashed and stuffing pulled out. A scream worked its way up her throat as she gasped and clamped her hands over her mouth.

A
aron pushed past her, already talking to someone about her apartment on his cellular phone. He switched his phone off. “The police are on their way over here.”

He placed another call and she could hear him talking quietly, telling someone else about her place. When he shut off his phone and jammed it into his pocket, he motioned to her.

“You stay right here by the door while I look around,” he said grimly.

He pulled a gun out of the waistband of his trousers at the small of his back, and she stared at it in horror. She knew nothing about guns and Aaron suddenly looked different carrying a weapon. Tall, rugged, dangerous. His green eyes were angry, and fear for his safety filled her until he glanced back at her and she looked into his eyes. His gaze held the coldness and hardness of ice, frightening her. She remembered him telling her about being in the military, and she realized now she was seeing a different, much tougher side to him.

She shivered, keeping her arms wrapped around herself. Who would do this to her? Why?

Aaron disappeared into her bedroom and the lights switched on. While she waited, she looked at the slashed pillows. Someone wanted something, but what? She had nothing of great value, nothing important to anyone except her.

In seconds Aaron returned minus the weapon. He crossed the room to her to pull her into his arms, and for the moment she was glad to feel the reassurance of his strong arms.

“Why, Aaron?”

“Somebody wants something they think you have,” he replied grimly. “You're shivering.”

“I feel violated to think some stranger has been in here, destroying my things. I don't have any valuables.”

“You'll stay at my house tonight.”

“I can stay at the hotel or with my friends.”

“No, you can't.” He leaned back. “You don't want to endanger your friends. You may be in danger. I want you to stay at my house,” he declared in a tone that ended the discussion.

Nodding, she no longer wanted to argue with him. “I'm all right,” she said, moving out of his arms. “I want to look at my things and see what's ruined.”

“Wait until the law arrives. Let's not touch anything else because they may be able to get fingerprints.” He pulled her close again and held her tightly, stroking her head.

They waited, and when he heard voices approaching, he took her arm and they went outside to meet two plainclothes detectives who introduced themselves as Ed Smith and Barney Whitlock.

“What time did y'all get here?” Detective Smith asked, and before she could answer, Aaron spoke up.

“About fifteen minutes ago. You made good time.”

“We try.”

While the men talked, Pamela listened in a daze, looking at her slashed and smashed belongings. Neighbors began to call, asking if she was all right, and if they could help. She talked on the phone constantly until Detective Whitlock wanted to
take her statement. Aaron righted an overturned chair for her while the stocky, redheaded Whitlock stood nearby and wrote everything down on papers on a clipboard.

As she answered questions, all around her a police crew worked, moving in and out of the apartment, dusting for fingerprints, taking pictures, searching through the rubble. When Detective Whitlock finished with her statement and his questions, he lowered the clipboard.

“Thanks for your cooperation. We'll let you know anything we learn.”

“Thank you,” she said stiffly, wondering whether she would ever feel safe in her apartment again.

“Why don't you get what you want to take with you,” Aaron suggested as soon as Whitlock moved away. “When they leave, the police will secure your place. They're leaving someone to watch your apartment.”

“I didn't know they would do that.” As soon as the words were spoken, she realized why they would guard her apartment. “You hired someone to watch my place, didn't you?”

“Yes. I want to. Don't worry about it because it's no big deal. He's an off-duty cop and glad for the extra work.”

“Oh, Aaron!” she exclaimed, annoyed by his taking charge, yet glad, too, that someone would stand guard.

She walked cautiously to her bedroom, once more shaken by the destruction. Her mattress was flung on the floor. It was ripped and slashed, with the insides strewn about the room. Her clothes were tossed everywhere and to her dismay, when she looked at her dresses, most of them were slashed.

She fingered one and glanced around to find Aaron watching her from the doorway.

“What are they searching for, Aaron? What could anyone think I have that's valuable? I'm a teacher with no family. I don't have anything.”

“Someone thinks you do,” he answered grimly.

“I'll get what I can salvage.” As she looked through her clothing, she thought about all the questions the Asterland investigators had asked her, and the many times they had asked
about what jewels she carried. She studied Aaron while he stood waiting patiently. He looked relaxed as he leaned against the door, but she noticed he was methodically scrutinizing her room and she wondered what was running through his mind. Then her attention returned to gathering what she could to take with her to Aaron's.

Bits of lace underwear were tossed on the floor, and she felt violated again. Anger made her shake. “I hope they catch whoever did this.”

“I'm just glad you weren't home,” Aaron said quietly and turned away.

Pamela gathered a few clothes that were in one piece. She wanted to wash all of her clothing, as if by washing she could cleanse them of the stranger's invasive touch.

Twenty minutes later she and Aaron left her apartment. As they walked past the yellow police tape that cordoned off the area, she saw three of her teacher friends standing in a cluster.

“Aaron, come meet my friends.”

After they hugged her, she introduced Aaron to Jan Raddison, Amy Barnes and Robin Stafford. While Aaron stood quietly waiting, they offered help and sympathy for her loss. When she said goodbye, she and Aaron walked only a few yards to find more friends waiting to talk to her. It was another thirty minutes before she was seated in Aaron's car to drive away.

“You have a lot of friends.”

“They were nice to stand out there in the cold to see me. And their offers of help were gracious. If I wouldn't endanger one of them, I'd stay with them.”

“This is better.”

“Suppose I put you in danger?”

He glanced at her. “I'd like to catch whoever ransacked your apartment.”

Realizing there was a side to him she didn't know and didn't want to know, she shivered and became silent. While they rode, her jangled nerves settled until they approached Pine Valley. As they drove through the gated entrance, she thought
of their first night in his house. Glancing at him, she wondered if memories assailed him also. If so, he gave no indication.

Inside his house he dropped all her things in the utility room except one small bag, and then he led her upstairs.

“Aaron, my robe was cut up.”

“I'll give you one,” he answered lightly. “I have a T-shirt you can sleep in if you'd like.”

“Yes. I want to wash everything before I wear it. I know that's silly, but I feel as if everything I own fell into a mud puddle. Or worse.”

“I figured you'd want to wash your clothes.” Halfway down the hall to his large bedroom, he paused. “Being here with you brings back memories,” he said in a husky voice as he brushed locks of hair away from her cheek.

“Yes, it does for me, too,” she admitted. Their gazes locked and held while tension filled the moment and the air between them crackled.

“Which room will I stay in tonight?” she asked, prompting him. A muscle worked in his jaw as he took her arm and headed down the hall to the room next to his.

“I'll put you in here,” he said. When he swung open the door, she entered another huge bedroom with a queen-size four-poster bed, a pale blue spread, thick cream-colored carpet and mahogany furniture.

“This is lovely. Your home is beautiful.”

“Thanks. Mom's the one to thank for that.”

“Once again, I'm sorry you lost your parents,” she said.

“I think that's why I was more than a little upset when I heard about your plane having to make the forced landing.” He set down a small bag she had packed and turned to drape his hands on her shoulders, kneading them lightly. She was aware of his touch and of his searching gaze. She longed to step closer and wrap her arms around him and feel his arms around her.

“You were tense before the break-in. You're really uptight now. Let's go downstairs and have some hot chocolate. Okay?”

Nodding, she dropped her purse, and he helped her out of her coat and tossed it on a chair. He waited while she went out ahead of him.

In minutes they were seated in his family room in front of a roaring fire with cups of hot chocolate.

“Who do you think ransacked my apartment?” Pamela was curled in a corner of the sofa with her shoes off and her legs tucked under her. Aaron sat only inches away. He had shed his suit coat and tie and kicked off his shoes. His cup of chocolate sat on the table in front of them, and he reached out to twist her hair in his fingers. Each little touch sent tingles racing in her. Even though their conversation was impersonal and about her apartment, she was aware of how close he sat, of the fact that they would be under the same roof all night. Locks of his brown hair fell across his forehead, and while she watched, he unfastened two more buttons of his shirt. In the firelight that created an orange glow, he looked too appealing.

“I don't know. Whoever trashed your apartment will just know he didn't find what he was looking for. That doesn't mean you don't have it.”

She shook her head angrily. “You were right, I suppose. I'm the one someone has been following.”

“I chased someone from outside your apartment last night.”

Shocked, she stared at him. “There was someone watching my apartment?” Goose bumps rose on her arms. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“I didn't want to worry you. I've cautioned you to be careful. I couldn't catch him. He went over a fence and jumped into a car and drove off. There were two of them.”

“I'm glad you didn't catch him. Can't you leave that sort of thing for the police?”

He gave her a level look. “I wanted to catch him, and if I see him, I'll go after him again. I want to know why you're being followed.”

She sipped her cocoa and set her cup down, all the while
studying him as she mulled over possibilities in her mind. Her curiosity rose as she pieced little things together.

“What's running through your mind?” he asked.

“You're in the Texas Cattleman's Club. I've heard rumors about the members doing things to help people in trouble. You're one of those members who help people, aren't you, Aaron?”

“When I need to be,” he answered.

“You've known all along that I was the one being followed. How did you know that?”

He studied her. “It's all confidential, Pamela. Anything I tell you can't go any farther than between us.”

“It won't.”

“We're concerned that all of the women on the plane are in danger.”

“Who is we?” she asked, mulling over what he was revealing and again feeling chilling surprise that she could be in danger.

“Justin Webb, Matt Walker, Ben Rassad, Dakota Lewis. You know some of them.”

“If we're in danger, what's being done?”

“Matt is watching Lady Helena. Ben Rassad is going to watch Jamie Morris.”

“And you're watching over me,” she said, closing her eyes and wondering how she could get him out of her life. At the same time, she was glad he was there. She thought about the rumors she had heard about the members of the Texas Cattleman's Club, that they helped save deserving people, and she could imagine Aaron doing this. His diplomatic background would give him opportunity to help overseas; his wealth would give him freedom and resources. She remembered watching him move through her apartment with his gun in his hand.

“What's worrying you?”

She looked into his searching gaze. “What's worrying me is how you always can read my thoughts.”

“Not really. If I could read your thoughts I wouldn't have asked what's worrying you. I would have known. But we do
understand things about each other without having to say anything. Haven't you noticed?”

“I haven't noticed that I can guess your feelings. Not like you do with me.”

“Maybe I'm concentrating more on you,” he said quietly. “I'm fascinated with everything about you,” he said softly, leaning forward to kiss her throat lightly.

“You just can't be. I'm so plain vanilla ordinary, West Texas born and bred,” she said, barely aware of words, aware only of him.

“And I think that's absolutely wonderful. And, my lady, you need to remember I'm West Texas born and bred, too.”

“It's been educated out of you. There's nothing about you that's countrified.”

“My values are,” he whispered.

As she pushed him gently away, she wondered if he could hear her pounding heart. When he stroked her throat, she realized he could feel her racing pulse beneath his fingers.

“I want you to stay with me until we catch them.”

She rubbed her forehead. “Aaron, it'll complicate our lives more than ever.”

“No, it won't. We don't even have to talk about pregnancy and babies and marriage if you don't want. Just stay here until it's safe to go home. Okay?”

She nodded, wondering how many nights that would take, and how many nights she could stay out of his bed. “I'll stay if we won't talk about marriage.”

His green eyes were dark as he tangled her hair in his fingers. “If that's what it takes to get you to stay, fine. No talk of marriage.”