He muddled her thinking, and she needed to get away from him as soon as humanly possible.
She slammed the suitcase shut and pushed the catches closed.
“Joan?” Anthony’s voice sounded from the entry hall, and her heart sank.
She’d told him she was going straight to the airport in the hopes he’d waste time scouring LAX. Her plan had been to make a quick stop at the hotel and then take a cab to Ontario Airport. She could get a flight to New Orleans from there.
“Joan?” he called again, his voice getting closer as he made his way down the hall.
There was a slim chance she could cut through the bathroom and evade him.
“Joan?”
So much for that.
He strode through the bedroom doorway. “You tried to have me arrested?”
She didn’t look up. “I was trying to get you to back off.” Why, oh, why couldn’t he take a hint?
He was quiet for a strained moment and the muted sounds of traffic wafted through the windows.
“So, this is really it?” he asked.
Of course it was it. She thought she’d made that pretty plain. She finally looked up. “What were you expecting?” Her hand tightened on the suitcase handle, and she heaved the bag off the bed.
He leaned forward and tried to take it from her.
She shook her head, pulling back. “I’m fine.”
“It looks pretty heavy.”
“I’ve been carrying my own suitcase most of my life.” Why couldn’t he just go away?
He waited patiently until she finally met his eyes.
His blue ones burned into hers, and it was impossible to miss the hurt and confusion in their depths.
She felt terrible hurting him. He was her friend. He’d stood by her side for ten years. Sure, his ideals were different from hers. But until Charlie Long Live, he’d never deliberately undermined her. Maybe she hadn’t given him enough time to explain. Maybe…
While she argued with herself, something shifted in his expression. His eyes swirled to cobalt, and her hormones answered. Her pulse spiked in reaction, causing sweat to gather on her palms and form between her breasts.
“I can’t believe you’re going to let it end like this,” he whispered, shifting forward, his husky voice adding to the confusion in her body.
“It’s already over,” she rasped.
“Can we at least say goodbye like civilized adults?”
She swallowed, her pulse rate erratic beneath her tingling skin. “Goodbye, Anthony.”
He took two final steps, and he was right in front of her, forcing her to look up at him.
“Goodbye, Joan.” He smiled sadly. “You have been…” As his voice faded, he leaned ever so slightly toward her.
His scent surrounded her, and her wild pulse pounded in her ears. Her suitcase handle grew slick against her palm.
His voice dropped even further, “…the greatest experience of my life.”
The suitcase slipped from her fingers to topple on the rug.
“Anthony,” she sighed, abandoning her iron control, fixating on his lips, remembering every second of every kiss they’d ever shared.
He bent toward her. “I’ll miss you, Joan Bateman.”
She felt tears burn the backs of her eyes. “I’ll miss you-”
But then his lips touched hers. So soft, so sweet, so hot.
Their mouths fused, opening in unison, so their tongues tangled together. His hands cradled her face, and her arms wound around his neck.
It might have been meant as a goodbye kiss, but it instantly turned into something else altogether.
He stepped into the embrace, his hard body coming flush against hers. She moved against him, fisting her hands and digging them into the back of his neck. She pressed closer, closer, closer still.
She couldn’t let him go. This one moment in time had to last forever, because when it was over, he was walking out of her life for good. He was fired, and she was alone.
“So sweet,” he muttered against her lips. His hands smoothed down her sides, then rounded to the small of her back. “So beautiful. You are the sexiest woman alive.”
She wanted him.
She wanted him more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life, more than saving Indigo, more than publishing a book, more than appeasing her family. She wanted Anthony here and now, naked and inside her, even if she regretted it every second of every day for the rest of her life.
Something vibrated against her shoulder.
She jumped back. “What on-”
“My phone,” he mumbled, recapturing her lips and kissing her again.
It vibrated a second time, tickling her.
“Damn.” He ripped it out of his pocket and threw it on the bed.
“You should answer it,” she said around his next kiss. Real life was still out there, whether she wanted it to be or not.
“Screw it.” He kissed her neck.
The sixth muffled buzz sounded from the bed.
“Anthony.”
He sucked in a harsh breath and reached down to grab the phone. He flipped it open, his voice a bark. “Yeah?”
He was silent for a moment.
Then he blinked and gave his head a little shake. “I don’t-”
More silence.
Joan felt a chill. The regret she’d fully expected was upon her-even sooner than she’d feared. She started for her suitcase, but his hand shot out, grabbing her arm to stop her.
“I agree,” he said into the phone, giving her a look that clearly ordered her to stay put. Not that she could break the grip on her arm. Not that she wanted to. She should want to, she knew. But she didn’t. And there it was.
“Okay,” said Anthony. “Maybe Dallas for a few days.”
Business. He had already moved on. Something inside her died a whimpering death.
“Talk to you then,” he said and flipped the phone shut.
He stared down at her for a heartbeat, the earlier passion completely erased from his eyes. “We have a problem.”
She squared her shoulders. If he could move on, so could she. “What kind of a problem?”
His grip had loosened on her arm, so she reached for her suitcase.
“That was Samuel,” he said.
Joan stopped, her fear turning to Heather. “What’s wrong?”
“He thinks…” Anthony tucked the phone back into his pocket. “He saw someone dig up a baseball bat in his backyard.”
Joan squinted at Anthony. “So what?”
“The police thought his mother was hit with a baseball bat before she was shot. But they never found it.”
Joan nodded. “Okay. Yeah. I read that in the transcript.”
“If this is the baseball bat…”
A shiver of true fear ran through Joan. If this was the same baseball bat, there was only one person who would know where it was. “Then there really is a murderer out there.”
“And your book has made him nervous.”
She shook her head, taking an involuntary step back. “It’s not possible. I made it all up.”
“We can’t take that chance.”
“What do we do?”
“We go to Dallas for a few days. If Samuel’s right, you can’t be in Indigo right now.”
“But what about Samuel? What about Heather?”
“You’re the one the person’s scared of.”
“But I don’t know anything.” The whole situation took on a brand-new feeling of unreality.
“Samuel’s talking to Alain. Let’s give the police department a few days. We can stay with my parents until then.”
Stay with Anthony’s parents? With Anthony? With all that was going on between them? Bad idea. Really, really bad idea.
“I can go to Boston,” she said, even though she dreaded facing her own parents.
He stared down at her, looking all protective and Anthony again. She tried hard not to treasure that look.
“You honestly think there’s a chance in hell I’m going to let you out of my sight?”
“I fired you.” Her voice cracked over the words.
“We’re in this together, Joan. Together.”