She Does Know Jack (7 page)

“If you’ll
excuse me, I’ll go get dressed now.” Congratulating herself for keeping her
tone light, she sent the smiling contestants a look. “It seems my roommates
conveniently forgot to mention your visit this morning.”

“Yes, of
course,” Bill stammered. “You go ahead and get dressed. We’ll wait for you.” He
dropped back into his chair, clearing his throat.

Not Jack. No.
The grinning bastard’s gaze stuck to her like cat fur on black clothing.

She swallowed,
then turned on her heel and forced her unsteady legs to walk, as nonchalantly
as possible, up the stairs. Wonderful way to start the day. Could it get any
worse? Probably. Reaching her room, she shook her head at the cameraman and
shut the door. The public caught more than an eyeful all morning and didn’t
need to watch her dress.

As she walked
toward her bed, the faint odor of nail polish tickled her nose. Odd. She hadn’t
brought any. Okay,
it’s official
, she was losing it. Jack
Dodger
Anderson was on the premises less than five minutes and already her brain was mush.
Get
it together, girl
. She groaned and slumped onto the bed.
He’s only a man
.

A very handsome,
sexy, capable man. Why the heck did he have to be Matthew’s brother?

It didn’t
matter, she told herself for the twentieth time. She could handle it. And she
would
handle it. No way would she allow another man to compromise her ability to perform
her duties. Ever again.

Brielle rose to
her feet and, head held high, walked to her closet, threw open the doors and
gasped. 

R
uined.

Brielle clenched
her teeth and swallowed down an angry curse. Her clothes were ruined. Every
scrap. Her gaze snapped from garment to garment, taking in the red streaks covering
her wardrobe. Now she knew where the smell of nail polish had come from. She sucked
in a breath, trying desperately to remain calm. Her favorite top and dress were
among the casualties. And she’d just bought them. Dammit.  

Her mind also registered
the haphazard tears in her clothing. A chill ran down her spine. They weren’t
symmetrical or calculated. No. A quick, violent stroke had sent a blade into
each piece. She carefully backed out of the closet to inspect the clothes in
her dresser. Ruined, too.  

She brought the
case files to mind. None of the other contestants’ belongings had ever been
attacked. Was she the only one now, or did their closets bear the same artwork?
If not, why had her addition to the show suddenly escalated the threats?

Her gaze bounced
around the room. Thanks to the no-camera rule, none of the havoc had been
caught on tape.

Brielle jerked
the door open and pushed past the cameraman to peer down at the chatting crowd.
Which one had done this?
She gripped the railing, its smooth surface
cooling her heated palms as she eyed the women. Sliding her hands back and
forth, she allowed the motion to calm her anger before she spoke.

“Bill, we seem
to have a slight problem,” she called down, catching Jack’s frowning stare.

Bill jumped to
his feet, followed by Jack. “What kind of problem?”

“I don’t seem to
have a thing to wear.” She eyed the three girls, all looking up at her with
straight faces. Were they all involved? One? Two? None?

Bill stopped
mid-stride, clipboard dangling at his side. “Look, if this is some kind of
hissy fit—”

“I don’t
do
hissy fits.” She cut him off, needing to get to the point. “An hour ago I had
plenty to wear, but now...” She paused, her gaze snapping to each of the women.
“I do not.”

A look of alarm
crossed Jack’s face. “What’s wrong?” he asked, taking the stairs two at a time.

“See for
yourself.” She pointed to her room, but waited in the hall for Bill and the
girls, wanting to read their expressions when they saw her clothes.

“Oh my.” Bill
backed out of her closet a minute later. “How did this happen?”

“Beats me. I was
downstairs cooking.” She exchanged a look with Jack, who, like her, eyed the
contestants as they surveyed the damage.

Danni’s fingers
flew to her mouth. “Who would do such a thing?”

“Don’t look at
me,” Carla said with a wave of her hand. “I was in my room getting dressed.”

“So was I.”
Mandy shook her head as she peered into the closet, then added, “We all were.”

Jack leaned his back
against the wall, arms crossed. “Very convenient.”

“Oh, come on.”
Bill frowned, his gaze bouncing to the contestants. “Surely you don’t think one
of these girls did this?”

“Who else has
access?” Jack straightened, staring at the producer through narrowed eyes.

“Um…well…” Bill
cleared his throat, tugging his collar. “No one, actually.”

Carla stepped
closer. “That’s not true. The front door was unlocked. Anyone could’ve come
in.”

“Unlocked?”
Bill’s eyes widened. “Why? You girls are supposed to keep it locked and the
alarm set at all times.”

“We do, Bill,
honest,” Danni insisted.

“Yeah,” Carla
agreed, gaze dropping to the floor. “But it was my fault, today. I forgot to
lock it after the groceries were delivered this morning.”

“Are you sure?
Because it was locked when we got here.”

Jack’s gaze
narrowed on the contestants, and Brielle fought to suppress a shiver at his
cool tone. At the moment, the man could frost windows.

A flush covered
Mandy’s cheeks as she gazed down at the floor, too. “That’s because I locked it
as you drove up the driveway.”

Oh boy.
Now Brielle had
to fight the urge to palm her forehead. The women certainly weren’t making the
case any easier. No wonder it was still unsolved.

“Well, that’s
about to change,” Jack said in a clipped tone. “It’s too dangerous to proceed
with this show if you ladies are going to blatantly ignore security
procedures.”

Understatement
of the year. Pull the plug, her mind screamed, but the investigator in her…the
puzzle solver wouldn’t allow her to voice the words. She needed to help solve
this case. Needed to prove to herself that she could trust her own judgment.

“We won’t ignore
them anymore, will we girls?” Danni placed a hand on the other contestants’ shoulders.
“We promise we’ll keep the doors locked from now on.”

“Yes. That’s
right. We will. Please don’t send us home.” Tears had filled Mandy’s eyes at
the mention of halting production.

Brielle couldn’t
tell if they were as fake as the woman’s boobs or as genuine as the concern in
Jack’s gaze.

Bill whipped out
his cell phone. “Don’t worry about a thing, Ms. Bennett. I’ll have wardrobe
send over some clothes.”

Send over? Oh,
hell no.

 “Can’t I just
get some from home?” The last thing she wanted was the show picking out outfits
for her to wear on national TV. She could see it now, tight, low cut tops,
short shorts, even shorter skirts barely covering her happy junction. Yeah,
letting the studio clothe her was not Brielle’s idea of comfort.

“The rules state
no one is to leave until they’re sent home.” Bill gave her an apologetic look.
“I’ll have them here within the hour.”

“The rules never
stated it was open season on my wardrobe, either.” Careful to keep emotions out
of her voice, she regarded the man calmly while simmering inside. She’d just
played right into the perpetrator's hands. How could she let that happen?  Yanking
her sash tighter, she lifted her chin. It wouldn’t happen again.

“Well, in the
meantime, you can borrow something of mine,” Danni offered.

“Wait!” Jack’s
hand shot out, blocking the teacher’s exit. “All of you downstairs in the
living room where the cameras can see you. Now.”

“Why?” Danni’s
brows formed a V in the middle of her forehead.

“The rooms need
to be searched.”

Yes, and she
wanted to search them. But how?

Jack stepped
back and allowed the contestants to leave. “Not you, Brielle.”  Strong fingers
clasped around her elbow. “You stay here."

A thrill shot up
her arm and sizzled down her back. The sensation had nothing to do with Jack’s
touch and everything to do with being able to look inside the suspects' rooms,
she tried to reason.

Chewing on her
bottom lip, she stood to the side, and watched the grumbling women head
downstairs with the producer in tow. Her mind jumped back to Jack. How should
she act?

Should she
become hysterical and cling to him? She eyed the man’s stern profile. Pressing
into his fine form certainly had its merits. Hard, hot, muscled merits. Ones
she remembered all too well. But, no, she couldn’t, even if she wanted to. She
didn’t do
clingy
.

“I wonder if I’m
the only one whose closet went through a make-over.” She pushed her still damp
hair over her shoulder. “Maybe the other contestants’ clothes shared the same
fate.”

Blue eyes stared
back, studying her a moment. Damn, he was good. She got nothing. He gave nothing
away.

“I doubt it, but
there’s only one way to find out.” He motioned for her to precede him down the
hall. “At least your robe and nightgown were spared.”

“Nightgown? What
nightgown? I’ve only got this robe.” She yanked the sash tighter again, and
smiled when he stiffened.

His sideways
glance held a mixture of concern and a familiar heat. “Do I want to know why?”

“I’d just
stepped from the shower—”

“Never mind.” He
visibly swallowed as he continued down the hall.

Feeling guilty
about her role in the investigation and her orders to keep him in the dark, she
intended to help whenever possible and saw no reason she couldn’t share her
thoughts. The concern that had darkened his beautiful eyes to a deep cobalt had
been real when he’d first spotted her shredded clothes. Sharing her thoughts
was the least she could do, and didn’t break her promise to his parents or her
uncle.

“Actually, it is
probably important.” Lowering her voice, she filled the former Ranger in on her
morning activities. “So you see, even though Mandy had been in my room to get
my microphone, all three had plenty of time to paint and shred.” She frowned,
then added, “So did you.”

“Me?” He stopped
dead, his voice rising in surprise as he turned to face her. “Why would
I
ruin your clothes?”

“I don’t know.
Maybe you don’t like me. Maybe you don’t like your brother. Maybe you don’t
like my choice of clothes.” She shrugged. “I’m just pointing out the fact I was
in the kitchen and had no idea how long you were in this house.”

He leaned close,
forcing her to back into the wall or make body contact. Intimidation never
worked on her…until now. She hit the wall with a thud, tipping her head back to
meet his gaze, noting how different the angle was without her heels. The man
towered a good half foot over her, his eyes hard like blue steel. But damn, he
smelled great.

Mmm…a summer day
after it rained.

“Let me make one
thing clear,
Ms
. Bennett. I don’t know you and don’t give a damn about
your wardrobe choice, but I
do
give a damn about Matthew. He’s my brother.
I’m here to protect him and, by God, that’s what I’ll do.” He straightened,
never breaking eye contact. “As for me, I arrived with Bill and stayed with him
the whole time. Why don’t you ask him?”

“No need.” She
smiled sweetly.
I’ll check the feed later
. Her gut told her he didn’t do
it, but she couldn’t listen to her gut where Dodger was concerned. At least,
not yet.

“What about
you?” He eyed her warily. “Maybe you ruined your clothes as a way to gain my
brother’s sympathy.”

She threw her
head back and laughed. “Yeah, my goal is to walk around naked under a thin robe
on national television.”

His gaze dropped
to her heated body, lingering on her beaded nipples doing their damndest to
reach out to him in a good morning salute.
Traitors
.  Slowly, and ever
so nerve-wracking, his gaze lifted to fasten on her mouth. Smoldering blue eyes
instantly evaporated her amusement and tripled her pulse. 

“Well…” She
cleared her throat and worked to get back on track. “If you didn’t do it, and I
didn’t do it, I wonder which of the girls did.” Pushing her hair back again,
she reverted to playing her role. “Are contestants always this aggressive on
these shows?”

He hesitated as
if trying to decide how much to tell her. “I don’t know. This is my first one,”
he replied before they resumed their trek. “And last.”

An hour later, Brielle
returned with Jack to her bedroom with disappointment souring her gut. Nothing
had been out of place in the three rooms they’d examined. Even Carla’s nail
polish had appeared untouched with not enough missing to warrant the rampage of
Brielle’s clothes. In a nutshell, the search had been a flop.

The only
surprise had been Carla’s caged, six-foot albino python. Jack had glanced at
her as if expecting an ear-splitting scream to burst from her mouth. But
Brielle didn’t mind snakes. Or lizards or frogs. Now, spiders
—w
hole
different story. If there had been a tarantula, her barely clothed ass would’ve
been out of the mansion and half way to Canada before he could blink.

“We’re still at
square one.” He dropped into a chair near her fireplace and expelled a long
breath. “My team, along with some people from DeMarco Investigations, should be
here soon to dust for prints and do a thorough search.”

“Yes, Bill
explained you were here to keep an eye on your brother while DeMarco
investigated the threats.” She settled into a seat across from him, hoping he’d
share something enlightening.

He stilled.
“Threats? I never mentioned anything about a threat.” Eyes narrowed, his gaze
bore into hers, watching—waiting.

“No, but Bill
told me about them when he gave me the choice to opt out of the show. He said
all contestants were made aware of the threats.” Shoot, she needed to be more
careful with her word choices. She tilted her head and changed the focus. “I
wasn’t aware
you
had a double agenda, though.”

He sat back
without breaking eye contact. “I'm here to help my brother in more ways than
one.” His gaze dropped to her legs, and her bare skin instantly heated.

Damn, the man
was potent. Resisting the urge to tuck them under and out of his view, she
eased to her feet to stand behind the chair, instead. “Matthew is lucky to have
such a caring brother.”