Redhead Blitz (23 page)

No, every second that Annie spent alone in this God-forsaken wilderness was one too many.
 
Hell, there was a state penitentiary in the neighboring county.
 
What if some escaped convict stumbled upon the cabin and— 

Shit, you’re doing it again.
 
She’s okay
.
 
Maybe if he said it enough times it would be true.

When I find her I’m going to . . . What?
 
He sat up and shook his head in frustration
.
 
Throw her over his shoulder and drag her back to civilization?
 
Okay, no.
 
Physical contact—anything more than a casual touch—had never figured into their relationship.
 
Not that he hadn’t thought about it often enough.
 
Thousands of times.

Damn it.
 
He wasn’t sure what he was going to do once he found her.
 
He’d imagined one scenario after another during the drive, but none of them felt right.
 
And when he’d turned off the state road and had to really concentrate on spotting the place, he’d given up on planning.

Wanting to assure himself that there
weren’t
any escaped convicts roaming the area, he switched on the radio.
 
As bluegrass music suddenly filled the car, he spotted a light flickering through the trees to his right.

Looking for a way in, Al put the car in reverse and backed up enough to see a narrow drive, not much more than twin paths of mud running off into the trees.
 
This had to be it.
 
If it wasn’t, he could at least ask the inhabitants if they knew where Rick’s cabin was.

But as he approached the residence, his tension ebbed.
 
There sat Annie’s distinctive white convertible, parked out in front.
 
As he threw his SUV into park, he studied the cabin.
 
More substantial than he’d anticipated, the getaway was built up on a stone foundation with real log siding, a heavy wooden door and a front porch that spanned the full width of the place.
 
The light he’d seen shone from an overhead fixture on the porch and the windows were covered with what appeared to be interior wooden shutters.
 
Someone would have to work pretty hard to get in without an invitation.

Now all he had to worry about was getting
himself
invited inside.

Annie awoke to tires skidding on gravel.
 
The hair on her arms stood up, prickling under the sleeves of her cotton sweater.
 
Rick hadn’t been entirely comfortable with her staying out here all alone.
 
She’d had to remind him she was no longer his baby sister before he’d handed over the keys.
 
Still, when he returned from his business trip she’d encourage him to install some additional exterior lighting.

She got up to peek through one of the shutters.
 
An SUV headed down the driveway, similar in size to the type Al drove.
 
But it couldn’t be him.
 
Thank goodness.

Al.
 
Annie felt the corn chowder in her stomach roil.
 
Could she ever look him in the eye again?
 
She’d ended her tirade the day she quit by stupidly admitting she was in love with him.
 
His only response had been to stare at her in horror.
 
Talk about wanting to crawl under a rock.
 
She’d taken off.
 
Within an hour he’d left her four messages demanding she return his calls, but hearing his voice had torn something inside her chest.
 
She’d stopped listening to his messages.

The SUV halted next to her car.
 
Annie moved to recheck the lock on the cabin door.
 
She wouldn’t open it to anyone she didn’t know.
 
Problem was it couldn’t possibly be anyone she
did
know.
 
Josh was too busy at work to be here, Rick was in Atlanta and no one else had any idea where she was.
 
Well,
Gigi
knew she was in the Hocking Hills, but she wouldn’t know how to find the cabin.
 
She switched off the lamp by her chair.
 
If she pretended no one was home, perhaps whoever it was would eventually go away.

The sound of a car door closing was followed seconds later by heavy treads on the porch steps.
 
There was a loud knock on the door and then a silent pause.
 
Annie sat in the darkened room, her gaze shifting between the flickering fire and the front door.
 
Another knock sounded, but this time it was followed by a familiar voice.

“Annie, it’s Al.”

Oh, no
.
 
If she’d been standing she might have fainted from mortification.
 
Instinctively she curled tighter and didn’t make a sound.
 
How had he found her?
 
But the answer was obvious enough.
 
Gigi
.
 
Her neighbor had promised not to tell anyone, but Annie knew firsthand it was hard to say no to Al Matthews.
 
Especially if
Gigi
had gotten her old job.
 
That must be it.
 
He must have found out
Gigi
was her neighbor and intimidated her into giving him the address.

But I’m not ready to face him
.
 
She’d made a complete fool of herself.
 
There was no way she was going to let him in.

“Annie, I know you’re in there.
 
That’s your car and there’s smoke coming out of the chimney.”
 
He knocked for what seemed like minutes, but was probably only seconds, before all was quiet again.

She reached for her glass and swallowed the remainder of her wine in one gulp.
 
It did nothing to calm her nerves or diminish the formidable urge to respond.
 
The idea of not complying with Al’s demand was totally foreign to her nature.
 
She’d been the man’s assistant for the last ten years and had become so adept at meeting his professional needs she could anticipate them.

“Annie, please let me in.
 
We need to talk.”
 
His tone had softened.
 
When she neither moved nor replied, he started knocking again, more insistently.
 
She slammed her hands over her ears until the pounding ceased.

“Annie, you’re scaring the shit out of me.
 
Please let me in.”
 
Hearing him curse was nothing out of the ordinary.
 
Al had a temper.
 
She bit her lip to keep from answering.
 
The pounding started again, rattling the big door’s hardware.

“Annie, if you don’t let me in, so help me God, I’m going to break down this door.”
 
He was shouting now; she could picture his cheeks flaming with anger.
 
He was not the type to bluff, so she stood and crossed to the door.

“I’m fine.
 
Now go away”

“Annie,” his volume had lowered again and his voice sounded as if he’d leaned close to the door.
 
“I’ve been going crazy not knowing where you were.
 
Please open the door and let me in.”
 
He sounded so sincere she was tempted to throw open the door and run into his arms, but remembering the look on his face before she’d left, she quelled the notion.

“Go away, Al.
 
I’m not opening this door.
 
Go home.”
 
She fully expected the pounding to resume.
 
Too nervous to sit, she carried her glass to the kitchen sink, hoping to hear his retreating footsteps.
 
But the continuing quiet brought on a case of shivers.
 
Did she dare peek out the shutters?

“Annie.”
 

She started as her name cut the silence.

Frustration saturated Al’s tone.
 
“I’m not giving up.
 
I’m not leaving.
 
I don’t care how long it takes.
 
I’m staying until you give me a chance to come in and talk.”

She replied by turning off the porch light.
 
It had been a mistake to answer.
 
The man defined mule-headed.
 
Annie crossed to the fireplace, hoping the heat would stop her quivering.

But looking into the flames, it was impossible not to replay, for about the millionth time, the most embarrassing moment of her life.
 
If she’d only learned to keep her mouth
shut
.
 
If she had she’d still be . . . still be . . .  working for Al.
 
Having no life outside of her job.
 
Longing for a man who would never see her as anything other than his loyal assistant.

She overlapped the front panels of her sweater and rubbed her arms.
 
Why had he gone to the trouble of tracking her down?
 
Maybe he hadn’t hired anyone.
 
Was he here to try to convince her to come back to work?
 
She might not turn heads any longer, but she wasn’t too modest to say she was the best damned assistant in the building.
 
Maybe the entire district.
 
But going back to work for Al was not an option.

“It’s getting pretty cold out here.
 
How about letting me in before I freeze?”
 
Al’s shuffling footfalls on the porch made it apparent he was moving around.
 
Then suddenly, there was a loud tumbling sound and a crash.

Oh God!
 
Annie ran to the door and threw it open.
 
In the light spilling from the cabin, there sat Al, covered with the soil and leaves from one of the old hanging geraniums.
 
He rubbed his head.
 
Genuine concern, along with longstanding habit, had her squatting next to him before she realized what she was doing.

Too late now
.
 
She tried to harden her tone to sound indifferent.

“Are you all right?”
 
Her fingers itched to swipe the debris from his thick salt and pepper hair.
 
Six weeks ago, if he’d had something in his hair, she could have brushed it off without him knowing she got a cheap thrill from the physical contact.
 
But now, because of her emotional outburst, he’d know she was motivated by more than wanting to be helpful.
 
She fisted her hands on top of her thighs.

“Hell, no.”
 
He sounded like a petulant child, albeit a very large, foul-mouthed one.
 
Al stood, continuing to brush at the dirt.
 
With his muscled body towering above her, radiating both frustration and anger, she backed toward the door.

“Oh, no you don’t.”
 
He stepped forward and held up one meaty palm, making her efforts to close the door on him as effectual as referee with a dog whistle.
 
He pushed his way inside.

Annie’s frustration suddenly outweighed her embarrassment.

“Get the hell out.”

Wondering if he might have a serious injury after all, Al pressed a palm to his temple and shook his head.
 
His Annie didn’t
curse
.
 
Not normally.
 
He spun about to offer some retort but, setting his eyes on her for the first time since he’d arrived, the words wouldn’t come.

 
Her hair.
 
He couldn’t move his gaze away.
 
She’d had it cut.
 
A lot.
 
The new style was so different.
 
So . . . well, sexy.
 
Still stunned speechless, he reached for the edge of a table.
 
Not that he needed steadying, but perhaps feeling the hardwood under his hand would convince him he wasn’t in the midst of a dream.