Heiress Recon

“The Hollywood fast lane must be catching up to you,” Troy said, then felt the weight of her stare.

“You know, that’s the second or third thing you’ve said to me with a bit of a nasty undertone to your voice. I’m just trying to figure out if you work at being a jerk or it just comes naturally?”

By calling him out she surprised him. He shrugged. “It’s not anything I consciously work on,” he replied.

“That answers my question.” She flipped the air conditioner vent to blow more directly toward her face. “So tell me, is this something you do all the time? Play bodyguard?”

“No. I own a company, Recovery Inc. My two partners and I are in the repossession business.” He didn’t bother to tell her that they were high-stakes players who dealt only in high-stake issues.

“So, you repossessed me.”

“Temporarily,” he agreed.

“If you don’t normally do this kind of work, then why did you agree to do it for my father?”

“Because he’s a friend of my parents and because he used to be a Navy man.” Troy checked his rearview mirror. At this time of night there were few cars on the road, but he wanted to make sure they hadn’t been followed from the Waverly estate by the over-eager press or somebody with more nefarious ideas.

“And you were a Navy man?” she asked.

“Navy SEAL.”

“Ah, that explains it.”

He glanced at her, her features visible in the light from the dash. “Explains what?”

She flashed him a cheeky grin. “Your buff body.”

Troy couldn’t remember the last time he’d blushed, but her words filled his cheeks with unexpected heat. He had a feeling that these three hours in the car with her were going to feel like ten, and he didn’t even want to think about the next four days.

“Is there a Mrs. Repo Man sitting at home waiting for you?” she asked.

“No,” he replied, although he knew the kind of woman he eventually wanted in his life. She would be beautiful, but shy. She’d know the value of a dollar, but would have a giving soul. She’d be an ordinary woman, but extraordinary to him. It was an ideal that he had yet to find, but she was out there somewhere.

Thankfully, Brianna fell silent and stared out the passenger window. Unfortunately, she was only silent for a few minutes. “Do you believe my father’s theory that the person who tried to stab me is somehow connected to his business deal in Kansas City?”

“Who knows,” he replied. “I suppose anything is possible. Of course, it might have nothing to do with your father and instead might be a by-product of your lifestyle. Women like you sometimes get the attention of creeps.”

Once again he felt the weight of her glare. “Women like me?” She repeated the words in a slow and measured tone. “You don’t know me.”

“I know everything I need to know about you,” he replied.

A woman like Bree Waverly had been the cause of him joining the Navy when he was twenty-three years old. He had expected to marry her, but when a false rumor began swirling that his family had lost their fortune in a stock deal, she’d broken off the engagement. So instead of walking down the aisle, he’d walked into the nearest Navy recruitment office in an effort to forget Holly, the beautiful blonde who had broken his heart.

“Really? And what do you think you know about me?” Brianna asked.

Troy sighed. He wished he’d kept his mouth shut, but that had never been one of his strong suits. He was a straight shooter who rarely hesitated to speak his mind. “I know that you’re probably spoiled and love attention. I know that everything in your life has come easily to you. You probably drink too much and take drugs and don’t realize you’re a train wreck about to happen.”

She surprised him with a laugh. “Amazing,” she exclaimed.

“What?”

“It’s amazing that my father decided to have me repossessed by a judgmental, self-righteous jerk.” She laughed again. “This is going to be interesting, repo man. It’s definitely going to be interesting to see if we can spend four days together without one of us killing the other.”

With this pronouncement she lowered the back of her seat, turned her head to the side and closed her eyes.

SHE MUST HAVE fallen asleep because when Brianna opened her eyes again, the car had come to a stop. She put her seat up and looked around, but the night’s darkness prevented her from seeing exactly where they were. The headlights of the car were pointed toward a heavily wooded area but no other structure was visible.

“We’re here,” Troy said. “Why don’t you sit tight and I’ll go turn on some outside lights?” He opened the car door and got out.

She nodded as the last sleepiness fell away. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting when he’d told her they were going to a friend’s place, but this definitely wasn’t it.

As lights suddenly appeared, she stared with dismay at the little cabin tucked into the woods. Okay, maybe he was right. Maybe she was just a little bit spoiled because she found the idea of spending four days in this boarded-up, dilapidated place appalling.

Troy returned to the car and motioned her out as he opened the trunk. “Is there running water?” she asked, unable to keep her repugnance from her voice.

“Sure,” he replied cheerfully. “Although the water pressure leaves something to be desired.” He pulled her suitcase from the trunk and placed his smaller black duffle beside it. “I unlocked the front door.” He picked up his duffle and headed toward the porch, a jaunty energy in his step. He paused at the doorway and turned back to her. “Are you coming?”

She looked from him to the heavy suitcase she’d brought. “I’m coming,” she muttered and grabbed the suitcase handle.

He was enjoying himself, she thought as she dragged the case across the ground toward the porch. He’d judged and condemned her as a carefree, spoiled party girl who lived a life of luxury, and he liked the idea of bringing her to this place where she’d have to carry her own suitcase through the front door.

Buck up, she told herself. If this put her father’s mind at ease, then she could deal with anything for four days, even this crappy cabin and Troy Sinclair.

She huffed with the effort to pull the suitcase up the porch and inside the front door. He could have at least helped her through the door, she thought irritably.

The cabin wasn’t quite as bad on the inside as she’d expected. She entered a room that served as both kitchen and living room. The furniture was mismatched, as if it had been collected at a thrift store, and the kitchen appliances looked older than her. There were two other doors, one she presumed led to the bedroom and the other to the bathroom.

She dragged her suitcase toward the door she guessed was the bedroom. “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in the morning,” she said. “Oh, and by the way, I like my breakfast around tenish.”

It was a great exit line meant to get under his skin. Unfortunately, she had pulled her suitcase into the bathroom. With as much dignity as she could muster, she left the bathroom and yanked the suitcase into the bedroom. She ignored his grin of amusement.

Although she expected sleep to be a long time coming in an unfamiliar bed and with the events of the day to mull over, sleep came as soon as she laid her head on the pillow.

SHE AWAKENED SLOWLY, first recognizing someplace in the back of her sleep-addled mind that the bed beneath her wasn’t her own. The second thing that came to her attention was the sound of melodic birdsong.

She cracked open an eyelid and stared at the rough-hewn wooden wall in front of her. There was a window directly ahead, but only slender slivers of sunshine danced around the boards that covered almost all of the glass.

The cabin. That’s right. She was in the middle of the woods in a cabin that belonged to Troy Sinclair’s friend. She was stuck here for the next four days with a man who apparently believed she was nothing more than what the tabloid headlines claimed her to be.

Slinging her legs over the side of the bed, she grabbed her robe and pulled it around her. Coffee. She could smell the fragrant scent in the air.

Quickly combing her hair with her fingers, she pronounced herself ready to tackle a big cup of java. She opened the bedroom door and instantly spied Troy sitting with his back to her at a small wooden table. At some point while she’d slept he’d removed the boards on the windows, and morning sunshine poured through the streaked glass.

“Ah, the heiress awakens. Coffee is on the counter. Unfortunately, the maid has the day off so you’ll have to help yourself.” These last words were said with a touch of mocking sarcasm.

“I suppose I can manage to make myself a cup of coffee, but anything more complicated than that is way beyond my capacity,” she replied as she walked across the room to the coffeemaker on the countertop.

She poured herself a cup of the brew, then sat at the table across from Troy. He looked as good this morning in a short-sleeved white shirt and jeans as he had the night before in his expensive suit.