“We still risk a leak beforehand.” Reporters would be all over a rich man’s death. Just like the vultures they were. While she could ensure information was filtered in the media outlets her family owned, she couldn’t do a damn thing about the ones they didn’t. “I’m sure a press conference will even be called, and as the primary on this case, your face will be plastered on every TV screen in town,” she said to Hector.
He cursed under his breath. “I’ll just say no comment and leave it at that.”
Clearly the man had never dealt with a reporter determined to stake a flag in the cutthroat world of news. “The only way to keep them from running one story is to give them another. Something better. Hotter.”
She polished off the rest of her food. Or rather, the portion Hector and Dallas left behind. As she ate, her hands busy, they threw what they could into their mouths, successfully managing to avoid a forking.
All the while they discussed false stories they could feed the media, and she listened, doing her best not to roll her eyes. Alien abductions and probings weren’t exactly news anymore—considering the aliens lived here.
“I’ll take care of the story,” she said. “No one will care about Bobby.” And that was a shame. But an agent did whatever was necessary to solve her case. That had been drilled into her head since day one.
“How?” Hector demanded.
“Trust me. I know how to manipulate the press.”
“How?” Dallas insisted.
She would have preferred to make this call in private, but whatever. She lifted her cell and dialed her contact at What’s Happening, New Chicago. After three rings, a too-perky female voice answered.
“This is Noelle Tremain,” she said, and both Hector and Dallas leaned toward her, propping their elbows on the table. Dallas still looked a little shell-shocked and sickly, but Hector was all intent and emotionless again. That must be his default setting. “You know, the heiress. The adventurer. The YouTube sensation. You saw me smack that AIR agent around last year, right?”
Yep. Default. His expression didn’t change.
She wished she were better at reading him.
“Oh, my God! Elle! How are you, darling? I haven’t heard from you in so long, I thought you’d forgotten me.” A pout. Faked, of course. Just like the news Marsha Tolle delivered.
Noelle and Ava had gone to high school with Marsha, and though the girl had thought her dreams of stardom made her better than everyone but Noelle, she’d never said an unkind word about dirt-poor Ava. That’s why, when she’d phoned a few times last year hinting for invites to certain exclusive parties, Noelle had given them to her. Now Marsha owed her.
Time to collect.
“As if I could have forgotten you, sweetie.” She used the bubble pop voice she usually reserved for the men in her family, all air, no substance. “Listen, I just found out the most amazing news, and I wanted my closest friends to be the first to know.”
A gasp of pleasant surprise. “I’m so honored you thought of me.”
“Of course I did.” Noelle forced a giggle, her gaze locked on Hector. His lips were now twitching, and she decided she might not need an instruction manual to read him, after all. He enjoyed her grade A acting. “So get this. I still can’t believe it myself, but oh, it’s just so exciting, and I’m shaking.”
“What? What’s happened?” Marsha couldn’t keep the greed out of her tone.
“I’m pregnant! And you know that football star, Corban Blue? He’s the father!”
Twenty-one
EVERYTHING’S CLEAR.”
Hector’s voice drifted from the upstairs of Noelle’s home. Her heart drummed erratically as she navigated the foyer on shaky legs. She tried to concentrate on her surroundings rather than the gorgeous warrior she yearned to have in her bed. The floor was a lovely gold-veined marble, the wall tables carved from rich mahogany. Crystal vases and bowls rested on top and cast colorful flecks of light in every direction.
Still shaking, she climbed the winding staircase and walked the plush carpet of one of her many hallways, and entered her private wing.
She found him standing in the doorway of her bedroom, peering inside, as though frozen. His back was to her, but he sensed her and stiffened.
Brushing past him, she breathed in the scent of wild sky and clean laundry. After she’d hung up with Marsha, he’d driven her home. She hadn’t been ready to part with him, so she’d played the it’s dark out, and I’m afraid to go in alone card.
Whether he’d believed her or not, he’d checked every shadow, every closet for the bogeyman.
As she’d waited for him to finish, her mind had replayed their earlier kiss and her blood had heated. He was here, in her home. They were utterly alone. The low simmer of arousal she’d experienced all evening had exploded, demanding its due. Demanding satisfaction, no matter what he’d said about being too dangerous, no matter that she’d decided to think things through first.
And he didn’t appear ready to leave …
He leaned against the jamb, and stuffed his hands in his back pockets. He wasn’t looking at her, was studying her bedroom. A single sweep of his gaze, and he had memorized every detail, she would bet.
What did he think of the large, canopied bed, with the ice-blue silk draping the sides? Too girly? What did he think of the matching curtains, the fabric so sheer, so delicate, the golden rays of the sun seeped through the window every morning, haloing every inch with rings of shimmering fire? Too romantic?
He probably liked the stone hearth, with two thickly cushioned chairs in front of it, a small, round table between them. And the books … maybe. They were the real thing, with paper pages, and colorful covers, not the electronic pads. The books were old, some of them brittle, but she couldn’t, wouldn’t, part with them. Before Ava, those books had been her favorite, and often only, companions.
Noelle pictured Hector standing on her balcony, her garden surrounding him as he smoked a cigar. She’d never seen him smoke a cigar before, but whatever. She pictured him bathing in her natural spring, even crooking his finger at her, silently demanding she join him.
The water remained warm year round, always bubbling, always whirling. Even now, steam curled from the surface, winding through the air like ivy, clinging to the ceiling. Beyond that was her bathroom, complete with an enzyme shower, as well as a real water shower, a vanity mirror and chair, and a black and gold granite countertop.