The Rent-A-Groom (3 page)

“Diane? You’ll never guess who’s taking a shower in my bathroom,” she said the instant her friend answered. Without waiting for a reply, she began to fill her in on the details.

“Wait! Wait, Gina! Stop!” Diane exclaimed in her ear. “You mean this man is there now? Right now?”

Her friend’s voice sounded strange. Gina thought it was probably from shock at the idea of her going along with such a deal. “You’ve got it.”

“Get out!” Diane cried. “Get out of the suite now!”

“But Diane—”

“Listen to me,” her friend interrupted in terse command. “I didn’t send this man, didn’t send anybody. I never called this Rent-A-Gent place. You’ve got to get out of there.”

“But the guy must know you,” Gina protested. “There’s no other way he could have learned so much.”

“I’ve never heard of him, I swear it. It’s some kind of scam, or else a trick to get into your room. If you don’t get out of there right now, you’re going to wind up a statistic in the Dallas police file!”

“But he has a business card with an address, phone number, everything. I’m looking at it right now. And he’s perfectly normal—except for being a cross between the angel Gabriel and a cowboy hero!”

“Honey, you’re not making sense. Business cards can be faked, made up in a print shop or even on a computer. Mass murderers who prey on women have to be presentable or they’d never get to their victims. What has this guy done to you?”

“Nothing!” Hearing the rising note of her own voice, Gina glanced toward the bathroom. The shower was still running. “He knew I was here in the honeymoon suite,” she said, speaking more quietly. “He knew about the canceled wedding and Bradley’s being in the same hotel. Explain that.”

“I don’t know,” Diane said in an agony of apprehension. “Maybe Bradley put this escort on to you as a sick joke.”

“Come on, Diane. The last thing Bradley would do is fix me up with another man.”

“All right, whatever. It doesn’t make any difference. Just get out of there, will you? Don’t stop to think, don’t try to take your suitcase, and for God’s sake don’t wait for explanations. Just make a run for it. Drop everything this minute and run like hell!”

In the bathroom, the shower went off. Race would be reaching for a towel to dry himself. He’d be naked. Oh, God, an unknown, naked man in her bathroom. Gina swallowed hard before she spoke quickly into her cell. “Yes, all right. I’m going. Don’t worry.”

“Call me again when you’re safe.” The receiver on the other end clicked as Diane hung up.

Gina’s purse lay on the cabinet of polished cherry that anchored the sitting room’s back wall. The ornate room key was beside it. She scooped up both and moved quietly toward the foyer.

The knob of the bathroom door rattled then turned. As it opened a crack, Gina spun around with the blood leaving her face. The stranger could not have had time to get dressed.

“Hey, I forgot to bring a razor,” Race called. “I see you have a pack of disposables. Mind if I borrow one.”

“Be my guest,” she called in a strained voice. At the same time, she whipped the purse behind her back.

“Thanks.” He put his head out the door to give her a quick grin. As he withdrew, the door closed once more.

Gina exhaled the air trapped in her lungs. Skimming across the foyer’s marble tiles on tiptoe, she let herself out of the suite and closed the door carefully behind her. She ran for the elevator, then stood pressing the down button again and again as she waited for it to appear. Only when she was safely inside the compartment, sinking in silent efficiency toward the lower level, did she breathe more easily.

She was okay. She had done the right thing. She was out of it.

What now? Hotel security, that was it. She would dump this in their laps and let them deal with Race Bannister. A guard or hotel official would see that he was conducted from the premises. Afterward, she could regain possession of her suite and her belongings. That would be the end of it.

She had escaped unscathed from a potentially dangerous situation. She should be congratulating herself. She ought to be delighted, even ecstatic, that nothing whatever had come of her brush with this Rent-A-Gent.

Why, then, was she suddenly sick with disappointment?

:: Chapter Two ::

Race Bannister stood with his hand on the bathroom door and his head tipped forward as he listened. He winced as he heard the outer door of the suite close behind Gina Madison.

Second thoughts, he suspected, and who could blame her? He must have scared her off. How? He had played his part as smoothly as he could manage and really thought he’d convinced her. Well, nothing was ever as easy as it seemed.

No, wait. There had been the murmur of her voice just after he turned off the shower. She’d phoned somebody. Whoever she spoke to must have spooked her. That was it.

Should he go after her, or let it be and see what happened? She would probably come back with a cop in tow, but that didn’t worry him. He hadn’t even bent a law, much less broken one.

He might have to come clean, of course. Could be he would prefer it that way; playing tricks on this particular woman was a raw deal. The way she watched him with those deep brown eyes made him feel as if she could see right through him.

Turning from the door, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Slicking back his wet hair with the splayed fingers of one hand, he grimaced in disgust. His opinion of the man reflected there wasn’t especially high right now.

Gina hadn’t been what he expected, not by a long shot. Oh, she had her defenses, her cool, well-glazed outer shell, but there was something fine and sweet and entrancingly soft underneath. Something that brought out his protective instincts. Which was probably just as well under the circumstances.

Or dumb. She was probably nothing like that.

It wasn’t like him to be influenced by a pretty face. All right, a beautiful face. But still.

Women didn’t faze him; he’d been fending them off for years. No credit was due on that score since he couldn’t help the way he looked and most women only cared about what was on the surface. It wasn’t often he came across a female person who could see past the outside wrapping to what he was inside. When he did, they were usually attached already. It had been his experience that the best were already taken.

Gina Madison had almost been removed from the market. Almost, but not quite, and that was what intrigued him. That was why he was here.

It was possible she could come back to the suite alone, if only from curiosity. Or maybe from fairness, because she seemed that kind of person and had no proof that he was anything other than he’d said. She might also return for the sake of revenge against Bradley Dillman. She did seem to have special dislike for the man.

Maybe the best thing he could do was shave, get dressed, then wait for developments. If she didn’t come back, he could always leave. If she did, he would play it by ear.

But first there was a little task that needed doing, he thought as he set his lips in a resolute line and reached for the suite’s bathroom phone. He had a good idea who Gina might have called. That interference had to be blocked before it made a mess of everything.

: : :

“How may I be of service, ma’am?”

Gina bit down on the inside of her lower lip as she studied the concierge who had posed the question. Identified as Tyrone by the name plate on his mezzanine-level desk, he was wearing a perfectly tailored suit with a stripe that matched his silver hair. He appeared polished and capable, discreet and unflappable; it seemed he might well be the person to handle the peculiar situation in which she found herself.

At the same time, she was struck by sudden doubt. What if Race was exactly what he said, a rancher who modeled part-time? What if he was an innocent pawn in all this, or else there was some reasonable explanation for everything? She would feel terrible if she brought the authorities down on a hardworking cowboy who was only trying to make a living. Never mind that she would be doing him out of a job.

Nothing about Race Bannister had appeared sinister. He’d looked her straight in the eyes and gone to great lengths to reassure her. He couldn’t be dangerous. Could he?

And if she ran away now, she would never find out what was going on. That seemed a shame.

The smile on the concierge’s face faded, to be replaced by a frown that mirrored her own. “What seems to be the problem, ma’am? Is it something here in the hotel? Is there any way I can fix it?”

Gina gave him a rueful smile. “I don’t know; I can’t quite make up my mind. You—you haven’t had any reports of a strange man finding excuses to get into the rooms, have you?”

“Good heavens, no!” The concierge’s eyes widened. “Don’t tell me you’ve had someone like that?”

“That’s the problem; I’m not sure whether he’s legitimate or not. And I don’t know how to get him out again.”

Her uncertainty was not like her; she was usually so sure of most things. For instance, she’d been positive she and Bradley were compatible.

The two of them had liked the same food, music and cars; had the same ideas about work and leisure; shared many of the same political convictions. True, their senses of humor were totally opposite: Bradley roared at slapstick, and she thought it totally dumb. Their ideas about ethics had turned out to be different, too. The truth was, she had been wrong about Bradley, and now she was half afraid to trust her judgment.

Tyrone watched her with doubt in his face. “Let me be sure I understand you, ma’am. There’s a strange man in your room, and you don’t know if he’s who he claims.”

She gave a small shrug. “That’s about the size of it.”

“And which room are you in?”

“The honeymoon suite…” She trailed off as the saw how it was going to look. The abrupt lift of the concierge’s eyebrows was perfectly understandable, given the circumstances.

Tyrone cleared his throat. With an air of great delicacy, he said, “I assume he isn’t the groom.”

“Not exactly.” Gina could feel the heat of her swift flush.

“I…see.” The man behind the desk took a breath that swelled his barrel chest. “If I might ask, how long has he been—uh, on the scene?”

Gina glanced at her watch. “About fifteen minutes. Long enough for a shower and shave.”

“Of course. A shower. And a shave. And you have reason to believe he will be there when you return?”

She nodded without quite meeting the concierge’s gaze. “Unless he’s discovered I left.”

“Hmm.” The concierge hesitated before he spoke again. “Just what was it you had in mind to do with him?”

“I don’t know,” she answered with troubled frankness. “What do you suggest?”

Tyrone tilted his head. “I suppose it all depends.”

“Meaning?”

“He didn’t force his way into your suite?”

“Oh, no!”

“He made no move to harm you?”

She shook her head.

“He made no threats, no demands?”

“None at all.”

Tyrone pursed his lips. “It doesn’t seem to be a matter for the police then.”

“Of course not,” she said sharply then closed her eyes as she sighed. Since there seemed no other choice, she explained the situation as fully as she was able.