Madalyn Reese - No Place To Hide

First a stalker, and now Anthony Bracco in her home.

There was still anger simmering between them, and no matter how many ground rules they hid behind, it would eventually boil over.

Worse, anger wasn’t the only thing simmering. Already she’d felt that familiar separation of brain and body. Her brain would tell her to keep away, but her body couldn’t possibly get close enough.

And now, sitting beside him, she could feel herself responding. Emma had never understood why he affected her this way, but apparently it was something that would never change or lose its power.

When his eyes had fallen to her mouth a few minutes ago, she’d known she wouldn’t have rejected his kiss. Struggling to pull herself together, she rushed into the hallway with Anthony in pursuit.

With no place to hide…

Dear Reader,

This is definitely a month to celebrate, because Kathleen Korbel is back! This award-winning, bestselling author continues the saga of the Kendall family with Some Men’s Dreams, a journey of the heart that will have you smiling through tears as you join Gen Kendall in meeting Dr. Jack O’Neill and his very special daughter, Elizabeth. Run—don’t walk—to the store to get your copy of this genuine keeper.

Don’t miss out on the rest of our books this month, either. Kylie Brant continues THE TREMAINE TRADITION with Truth or Lies, a dicey tale of love on both sides of the law. Then pick up RaeAnne Thayne’s Freefall for a haunting, mysterious, page-turner of a romance. Round out the month with new books by favorites Beverly Bird, who’s Risking It All, and Frances Housden, who’ll introduce you to a Heartbreak Hero, and brand-new author Madalyn Reese, who gives you No Place To Hide from her talented debut.

And, as always, come back again next month, when Silhouette Intimate Moments offers you six more of the best and most exciting romances around.

Enjoy!

Leslie J. Wainger

Executive Editor

has always had a cast of extras roaming through her head. Imagine her relief when she started writing and realized they were characters!

She lives in beautiful central Minnesota with her husband, three children, two cats and a dog, but can be found playing at eHarlequin.com in her twenty seconds of spare time. She loves hearing from readers, and can be reached c/o Harlequin/Silhouette Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279, or online at madalynreese@madalynreese.com.

For my Beautiful Things:

My family, my friends and Susan Litman,

whom I could never thank enough for giving me

their support, patience and guidance.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

“I don’t know why you insist on canary diamonds. Your skin tone needs cool colors like sapphire or deep amethyst,” Emma Toliver said.

“Amethyst?” Ginny Lewis balked, her lined, pixie face crinkling with distaste. “Isn’t that a semiprecious stone?”

“Ginny, it’s the new millennium. It’s not about showing off your money anymore. It’s about showing off yourself.”

“Don’t give me that bunk, young lady. I want the most expensive piece you’ve got.”

“Having a spat with Mr. Lewis again, are we?”

“He wants to buy a motor home.”

“Ooh, that’s serious. I have just the thing.”

Mrs. Lewis leaned eagerly forward, her voice fallen to a hush. “One of your own designs?”

“Of course, but don’t tell anyone. I’m supposed to be out of stock right now. This piece is fresh from Charles’s hands and the only one I’ll have for a while,” Emma said, producing a black velvet box marked with her private design label’s logo, Beautiful Things.

“My lips are sealed,” Ginny said. “But I wish you’d quit running out of material. Weren’t you bidding on some huge stone and metal auction thing? Please tell me you got it.”

“Yes, by some miracle, we did. But it’s been held up in the insurance process forever. They always seem to have trouble with rough, uncut stones, and of course that’s what we need before we can get started again.”

“Quit whining and show!”

Emma lifted the lid, watching Mrs. Lewis’s face light up.

“Oh, Emma… Black orchids! How did you do it?”

“Enameled gold setting, the petals are carved obsidian and lab-darkened purple jadeite. See how beautiful semiprecious stones can be?” she asked reverently, casting critical eyes on the bracelet. It was one of her favorites, a seven-inch line of miniature sensual blooms strung end to end.

The telephone drew Emma’s attention from the unveiling. “I’m on phone duty. We’ll haggle in a second.”

“Toliver’s Treasures,” she said, watching Mrs. Lewis’s expression turn more acquisitive by the second.

“It’s me, boss lady.”

Wrinkling her brow, Emma turned to see her caller standing twenty feet away, speaking on his cellphone.

“What’s the problem?” she asked. Brady, her jewelry department manager, looked positively dour. As always.

“Get rid of Mrs. Lewis. We need to talk.”

“If it’s about the auction lot—”

“Save that argument for later. You got another e-mail from the Creep.”

Emma’s stomach lurched. “Lovely. Any luck tracing it?”

“None. I called the Internet people again, but if you don’t call the police today, I will.”

“I don’t… Never mind. I’ll call as soon as I’m through.”

Emma hung up and took a few deep breaths. Definitely a cheesecake in her near future. Between her crazed schedule, Beautiful Things’s material shortage, constant attitude from Brady and the world’s scariest e-mails, she deserved at least three pieces.

Brady was right, though. They should have reported the e-mails immediately. He and the Internet guys had done everything they could. Now she’d have to involve the authorities.

But not until she’d dealt with her friend. Putting on her game face, Emma turned and calmly fastened the orchids around Ginny’s wrist. “There you go.”

“Please tell me this costs as much as a motor home.”

“Sorry,” Emma replied, hoping she didn’t sound distracted. “I’m asking twenty-five hundred. Not a penny more.”

“Five thousand.”

“Three. Final offer.”

“Sold. But you’re never going to make money if you don’t take advantage of your clients, dear.”

“Who says I’m not?”

Ginny’s face split into a grin. “That’s my girl. I don’t suppose you could make a necklace and earrings to match?”

“Of course. You’ll have to be patient, though. Charles and crew can’t start carving until we have more jade.”

“Fine by me, long as I can wear them for the motor home’s maiden voyage.” Ginny shrugged.

“You’re very good to me.”

“Nonsense. I’m a superstitious creature. At this very counter your great-grandfather sold my grandfather his wedding set. That marriage lasted sixty-three years. Given my husband’s retirement plans I need all the help I can get. And speaking of—”

“Don’t start.”

“I will start, thank you very much. A pretty girl like you should be married with children.”

“I am married. To this store. And Beautiful Things is my baby. I barely have time to breathe, let alone start a real family, and if you don’t stop harping I won’t have time to fast-track your necklace and earrings, either.”

“Tyrant. Keep acting this way and you’ll be single forever.”

“God willing,” Emma replied with a wink.

Ginny clicked her tongue and bent to sign the charge slip, muttering, “If your parents were alive I’d tell them how rotten you turned out.”

Pulling a tolerant but affectionate face, Emma handed over the bag and leaned forward to accept Ginny’s peck on the cheek.

“No more bickering with Mr. Lewis.”

“Bah. He loves it and you know it. Behave yourself,” the older woman ordered, then scurried away in a waft of expensive perfume.

Emma put the charge slip in the till and faced the stairs. They loomed, beckoning her to another of the Creep’s e-mailed photographs, which would make her flesh crawl.

The Creep had been following her with a camera, and over the last six days he’d sent forty-two pictures.

Being followed was bad. The photographs were worse. But the big black Xs superimposed on her face in every shot were downright creepy. Hence the nickname.

It wasn’t really necessary to look at this morning’s new arrival before calling the police, was it?

No, she’d spare herself that much. Dealing with the police could turn into an all-day project, but at this point Emma didn’t care how long it took. Her apartment was on the fourth floor of the Toliver’s Treasure’s building, and she’d already lost an entire weekend, waiting for the Internet company to track this person down.

The e-mails had stopped over the weekend, probably only because she hadn’t gone out. No opportunity, no photos, right? So Friday’s trip to the bank had been her last venture until this morning’s coffee run, when the promise of caffeine and a crowded sidewalk had lured her from the building.

Obviously, the Creep had been waiting.

Every hair on the back of her neck prickled at the thought, and Emma’s eyes narrowed. She dared whoever it was to keep this up. She’d be more than happy to introduce the Creep to the infamous Toliver temper. And her stun gun.

Squaring her shoulders, she marched for the stairs. No way would she let some whacko ruin the most important week of her life.

But she never made it to the stairs. A few feet away those suspicious hairs snapped to full attention.

She was being watched. She could feel it.

Turning instinctively, Emma found herself eyes-to-chin with Anthony Bracco.

She had to be imagining this. Fate couldn’t be this cruel.

Emma blinked and prayed the apparition would disappear. It didn’t. And he was angry. Muscles along a sharp jawline pulsed like a heartbeat as he ground his teeth.

Her day now completely destroyed, Emma looked up. Anthony hadn’t changed. Not male-model handsome, but close enough. His eyes were an odd, indefinable color somewhere between brown and gray, like rich, dark smoke quartz. Framing them were thick lashes even blacker than his hair, and his eyebrows had a natural, devilish arch.

How fitting, considering the man was Satan.

“What fresh hell is this?” she snapped.

“A new record,” Anthony replied in his raspy, chocolatey voice. “It only took you ten seconds to quote Dorothy Parker. Get upstairs. We have a problem.”

“No, we don’t have a problem. You have a problem. If you don’t get away from me I’m calling security.”

“Go ahead. You’ll undoubtedly need them in a few minutes.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“Hold the tantrum, please. Believe me, if this wasn’t urgent I wouldn’t be here. Go. God forbid one of your precious clients should discover how awful you really are,” Anthony said, forcibly turning Emma and propelling her up the stairs.