Hart To Hart (2 page)

“It’s a long story.” Ellie sipped more of her brew then began with her break up with Brian Lovett.

Her daughter’s eyes widened. “You’ve been dating someone and didn’t tell me?”

Charlotte’s indignation caused her to laugh. “Yes. You okay with that? I might be old and fat, but I’m not dead.” She was only forty-five.

“You’re not fat. You’re…well-seasoned with curves.”

Ellie groaned. Her ego was taking one hit after another. “Continuing with my story—I’d been dating Brian about a month, and things were going well, when Hilton suggested I offer an adult art class at the gallery a couple evenings a week. He believed it might bring in prospective buyers and possibly artists.”

“How’s that working out? Having a co-owner?”

“It’s fine, but I’ll get back to Hilton in a moment. The class began taking more and more of my time and I wasn’t able to spend as much of it with Brian as I would have liked. The gallery is my livelihood and I had to put it first. He disagreed.”

Charlotte leaned back. “If Brian were smart, he would have taken your class just to spend more time with you.”

She smiled. “I actually suggested it, but he said his artistic side had never developed. He’s a stock broker.”

“Ah. I take it Brian broke up with you because of the neglect?”

That hurt. She and her ex, Vic, had split because he’d neglected both her and Charlotte. Vic never put up a fuss, claiming she was better off without him since his line of work was too dangerous. “I actually dropped him.”

Her brows rose. “Are you okay with that now?”

“Yes and no. I like having someone in my life, but I’m not convinced Brian is the one.”

“It sounds like you made a wise decision then.”

When had her daughter grown up? “I like to think so. Then about a week later, I was feeling a little guilty and perhaps a bit sad about it, when a note suddenly appeared on my desk at work that said to meet
him
at the park that afternoon at twelve. It specifically stated where to meet—it was at our usual bench. But the note wasn’t signed.”

“You went, didn’t you?”

Ellie nodded. “But I wished I hadn’t. When I arrived at our park bench, Brian wasn’t there. About five minutes later, a little girl about six came up to me with a half dozen pink Gerbera daisies. She said they were from a man and that he was sorry he couldn’t be there.”

Charlotte picked up her coffee. “That was sweet of him and probably cost him an arm and a leg given the time of year.”

Ellie hadn’t thought about the availability of those flowers in November. “It might have been, except when I called to thank Brian for the flowers, he said he hadn’t sent them, nor had he written the note.”

Her daughter frowned. “Then who did?”

Ellie shrugged. “I have no idea. I thought, perhaps, one of the students in my class had sent them. I teach six men and four women. One of them, Cal, has had a crush on me for a while. He has talent, but he’s not ready to have his work exhibited, yet he doesn’t see it that way. He’s asked me out a few times, but he’s too intense for me.” She waved a hand. “Anyway, I casually mentioned the park incident to the group, but no one fessed up.”

Charlotte sipped her coffee, looking lovely and mature. Ellie should have visited sooner, but the gallery was beginning to do well and she hadn’t wanted to take the time off.

“Did you ask Hilton if he sent them?”

Hilton Davies, her gallery partner, had contributed the lion’s share of the start-up money. Because of his backing, Ellie had agreed to be the face of the business—and do most of the legwork. “Even though I was a bit embarrassed, I told him. He seemed rather upset.”

“Upset because another man sent you flowers or because this mystery man didn’t show up?”

“I’m not sure. Hilton is a widower and thinks the two of us could have something special. I’m not convinced. He’s a friend. A good one. But that’s all.”

“Ouch. Has he been persistent?”

“On and off. He’s smart enough to back off when he can tell I’m stressed.”

Charlotte looked off, her face unreadable. “Back to the tires. Didn’t you say the night your tires were slashed, there was a Gerbera daisy on the windshield?” Ellie nodded. “Could this be some kind of stalker?”

Ellie laughed. “No.”

“Mo-om. Think about it. An unsigned note, a mystery man, a random flower, slashed tires. Really? From the guilty look on your face, there’s more. Spill.”

Vic always said she was an open book and that she was a terrible liar.

Ellie held up her hand. Her daughter was smart. “It’s nothing really, but I’ll tell you so I can get some peace. A couple of weeks after the park incident, I began getting phone calls at night where the person would call but say nothing.”

“A heavy breather?” Ellie nodded. “Why didn’t you call him back?”

“I tried, but I got a recording saying the number was not in service. I know that wasn’t possible, but it happened. This person is clever. I told Hilton about it and he said to go to the police.”

“Thank God someone has sense. What did they say? Were they able to trace the call?”

Being grilled by her little girl wasn’t pleasant. “I didn’t go. I felt silly. Besides, what could they do?” Charlotte grunted, acting as if Ellie was too stupid to live. Hell, maybe she was. Denial had a way of distorting things.

“Arrest him? Or give him a stern warning?”

Ellie shrugged. “The phone calls stopped after that, and I thought everything was good. Then about two weeks ago, I found flowers by my apartment door.”

“Gerbera daisies again?”

“Yes. I would have dismissed my unknown admirer until the emails and texts started.”

“Emails and texts? My God, Mom. You act as if this is an everyday occurrence. If that had happened to me, I’d have gone to the police. What were you thinking?” Charlotte’s mouth opened and her brows pinched. Her daughter looked so much like Vic that emotion swamped her.

“I guess I wasn’t. The emails were from an unknown sender. The messages were innocuous enough. Things like, ‘Did you enjoy Reynold’s Restaurant?’ Or ‘Nice day for a run, I see.’”

“I’m guessing you had been to that restaurant and gone jogging?”

“Yes.”

“Mom. You have to go to the police. Someone is stalking you.”

Ellie blew out a long breath. “I was in denial for a long time, but don’t worry. I finally came to my senses and hired a private investigator, but all he was able to tell me was that the person who sent the emails had been at a certain cybercafé at a particular time.”

“Did he figure out the person’s name?”

“No.”

“Dad would have looked at the video feed.”

A quick shiver tripped up Ellie’s spine. Vic would have said it just like that. “Since when did you become an expert on your father’s behavior?” He had never been around when she was growing up, and the resentment built until the two stopped talking years before Ellie’s divorce.

Charlotte shrugged and glanced away. “We reconnected after the fire.” Charlotte leaned forward. “He’s changed, Mom.”

Ellie didn’t want to hear it. “Don’t let him fool you.”

“You should give him a chance. When he left the FBI, he was a broken man, but a good one.”

God, she didn’t need this. “I’ve moved on.” At least she thought she had, until the notes and flowers started.

The light in her daughter’s eyes dimmed. “Fine. Do you have any idea who might be doing all of this, assuming it’s one person?”

“I don’t interact with that many people. I can’t imagine it being Hilton. He has no motive and nothing to gain from scaring me.”

“And Brian?”

“He’s my first choice, but if he wants me back, his method sucks. And then there’s Cal, my kind of creepy artist.”

“Mom.” Charlotte lowered her gaze. “You have to call Dad now. If you don’t, I will.”

Chapter Two

I
t had taken
a year, but Vic Hart had finally settled into Rock Hard, Montana, and was enjoying life. Leaving Washington, D.C. and the fast-pace of the FBI had been hard at first, but he’d seen the writing on the wall. With the distinctive burn on his neck and jaw from the fire, going undercover had become impossible. That meant he’d have to either push papers for the Bureau for the rest of his life or quit. He chose the latter. The good news was that he’d actually made friends in Rock Hard during his time there, making the transition to the small town life easier.

Once the FBI team, along with the Rock Hard Police Department, brought down the terrorist cell, Vic had returned to D.C. where his social life went from bad to worse. He’d tried connecting with his ex-wife, El, but she’d returned only one of his calls and that was to decline his dinner invitation. When he suggested coffee instead, she said she was busy and that she was seeing someone. He recognized the brush off for what it was. After what he’d been through, he didn’t need any more emotional hits, so he backed off.

So, when El had called him this morning, he’d been stunned. In fact, he failed to live up to his nickname of Iceman, acting like a teenage boy having a girl ask him to his first prom.

Vic took a last look in the bathroom mirror and headed back to his office. Sharon, his secretary, was at her desk playing solitaire on the computer. When he’d hired her, she’d been rather conservative with mousy brown hair. Last week, she’d had it styled and streaked blue. He had to admit, he liked the new Sharon better.

He probably should suggest she work on organizing the files since business had slowed with the onset of winter, but he didn’t want to lose her. She had her strengths. His main goal wasn’t to make a big profit anyway. Between his pension from the FBI and the money he’d saved while he was in the service, he could afford to retire—he just didn’t want to.

Before he reached the hallway, the bell above the front door rang. Jitters swamped him. El was here. He spun around. Had the five years since he’d seen his wife—or rather his ex-wife—been kind to her? His hadn’t been.

El entered. Holy shit, but she was hot. He wasn’t pleased about her downcast eyes, but the rest of her made him stand at attention. Her hips were wider than he remembered, but the extra weight was balanced well with her enlarged breasts. Even more positive was that her face had finally filled out. From all the worry he’d caused her when they were more or less together, she’d lost too much weight. He never was the type to like a woman who was all skin and bones. He wanted to be with someone who had womanly curves.

She looked good with the short hair, too. While he couldn’t be certain, it looked as if there might be some auburn highlights in it, which went well with her warm skin tone.

Stop it. She’s a client
.

“Hello, El.” Thankfully, Vic was able to keep his voice from cracking.

She glanced up, stilled, and studied him. “Vic.”

Sharon glanced between them, and he held up a hand before she spoke. “I’ll escort Ms. Hart into my office.” Vic had a hard time not staring at his former wife. She was more beautiful than ever. “How’s Charlotte?” he asked as he led her down the hallway.

“Fine, but then you know that since you speak with her all the time.”

Shit. She was going to make it difficult for him. “Trying to make up for lost time, that’s all.” Once in the office, he pulled out the wooden chair across from his desk. He’d purposefully bought one that wasn’t particularly comfortable so his clients wouldn’t linger. Now, he could see a nicer chair was in his future. “Let me take your coat and hang it up.”

El held up her hands as if his mere touch would scorch her. “I won’t be staying long.”

The jab pierced his heart. He honestly didn’t deserve any better treatment. He’d been a shitty husband, putting country above his family. He dragged his chair from behind his desk and sat across from her, not wanting to put any more distance between them. “You mentioned over the phone that you’ve had a few misfortunes.” Charlotte called it a stalker, but he wanted to hear what El thought. “How would you assess the threat level?”

It was nice to be able to use the lingo and not have to worry if his client understood.

“It’s hard to say. I’m thinking it might be several different people. In any case, I want this to stop.”