Too Wilde to Tame (32 page)

"We don't have a choice." He glanced back at her, his gaze filled with understanding. "I know this is difficult for you, but maybe there's something in here that will help us figure out who is sending you this stuff."

Just like the untraceable pictures she'd received, Mia had her doubts. Still, there was no avoiding the inevitable, and she wrapped her arms around her middle as if she could protect herself from what was about to come. "Go ahead and open the envelope so we can get this over with."

Cameron hesitated a few seconds, then tore open the seal and pulled out something bright red and silky. He immediately frowned. "What the hell…"

For a moment, as Mia stared at the provocative pair of panties, she wondered if she'd recently ordered any lingerie from a catalog, which would explain the risque underwear dangling from Cameron's fingers. But then she noticed the slashes in the crimson fabric, and worse, the black pen markings on the crotch area where someone had written the word tramp.

Oh God. Shock swept through Mia, weakening her knees and making her stomach pitch with apprehension. She didn't want to believe the conclusion she'd just come to, but there was no denying the connection to those panties.

"Goddammit!" Cameron bit out furiously and tossed the underwear back onto the envelope on the table. He was so caught up in his own anger over this latest attack that he wasn't aware of the change in Mia. "Who in the hell would do something deranged like this?"

Mia was certain Cameron still believed Ray was the culprit, but Mia had her own strong suspicions. "Carrie," she said, still stunned by the realization. Didn't Carrie think she'd figure it out? Or maybe she just didn't care any longer.

Cameron's startled gaze jerked to her, and his brows creased in confusion. "What?"

"It's Carrie," she said again and sat down on the nearby barstool before her shaking legs gave out on her. "I'm certain she sent this package, and maybe even the pictures, too."

"Okay." Cameron's tone was cautious, even a little skeptical. But he didn't discount her claim. "Why would you think that?"

She'd never told him about her odd and somewhat strained lunch with Carrie last week, but she brought it up now. "When I met with Carrie last week, at lunch she made the comment that she hated going places with me, because she felt as though she blended into the woodwork when I was around. And when the waiter paid more attention to me than he did to her, Carrie also made a remark that my breasts were enough to encourage any man to flirt with me."

Cameron leaned against the counter behind him, his expression intent. "It definitely sounds like Carrie is jealous, and even I saw glimpses of that the first night at The Electric Blue, but do you really think she's capable of doing something like this to you? The pictures, your car, and now this?" She waved a hand toward her latest delivery.

"I hate to think she'd be so cruel, but there's more I need to tell you about that day." She gathered her thoughts, remembering, and relayed the events to Cameron. "After lunch we went shopping, and I found a provocative lingerie set I liked and I showed it to Carrie. She wasn't impressed and made the comment that it reminded her of the kind of stuff her mom wore and it made her look like a tramp. Carrie seemed to be having a bad day, so I just wrote off her remark as something that had stemmed directly from the issues she was currently having with her mother and her most recent live-in boyfriend."

"That certainly makes sense," Cameron said.

"But what doesn't make sense is, why me?" Mia couldn't ever remember doing anything to provoke Carrie into turning on her this way.

"Well, just going on what you told me, I'm thinking that because Carrie can't control her mother's behavior with men and the way her mother acts and dresses, maybe she's trying to control yours." As he spoke, he rubbed his thumb absently along his jaw line. "She sees you getting all the attention with men, and it must remind Carrie of her mother in some way. She definitely has emotional issues, and you were an easy target for her."

It amazed Mia how well Cameron could peg people's personalities and motivations. And not for the first time she didn't like what she was hearing about herself within the text of his explanation. It was yet another reminder of how other people perceived her own behavior and actions.

She combed her fingers through her hair and sighed, looking to Cameron for answers. "So what do we do now? Confront her?"

"If we confront her, she's going to deny she did anything. Her involvement is all speculation on our part, and we don't have any solid, irrefutable proof she sent the pictures or this latest package." He sat down on the barstool next to her. "The best thing to do is try and catch her in the act."

"And how do you propose we do that?" Mia asked.

"We start by going back to The Electric Blue. Let her know you'll be there this weekend, like this Saturday. And then we wait and see if she shows up to take more pictures." He placed his large, warm hands on her legs and gave them an encouraging squeeze. "Now that we're certain it's her, I'll keep my eye on her at all times until I see her do something and we can nail her for it."

Spending another evening at The Electric Blue didn't appeal to Mia as it once would have. She'd rather stay at home and work on a few new stained-glass designs, but to end the insanity that Carrie was putting he:: through, she knew it was necessary. Maybe, then, her life would get back to normal. If she even knew what that was anymore.

"Okay," she said in resignation. "We'll do it."

THE following afternoon, on Friday, Cameron was heading home after work when his cell phone rang. He didn't recognize the number on the display, but he answered the call anyway just in case it was a client. "Hello, Sinclair here."

"Hi, Cameron," a familiar female voice replied. "It's Ashley."

It took him an extra moment to realize it was Ashley Wilde—on the line. "Hey, how's it going?" he asked, surprised to hear from her.

"Everything's good," she said, though there was an energized lift to her voice. "You'll never believe what happened today while I was working at the boutique. You know that woman you pointed out ta me last week at the hotel?"

"You mean Trish Shelton?" he asked, his interest piqued.

"That's the one. She was here again today in the early afternoon. I just happened to glance out in the lobby as she was walking in and I recognized her. And this time, I followed her into the elevator to find out where she was heading. You'll never guess what she was at the St. Claire Hotel for."

He'd believed she was having an affair, just as her husband had stated, but he had a distinct feeling Ashley was about to shatter that notion. And Cameron was curious to discover what she'd learned about Trish Shelton. "Don't tell me she was there for a spa treatment," he joked, wondering if he'd misjudged her original visit to the hotel.

Ashley laughed. "No, it wasn't for a spa treatment," she said and then went on to tell him the real reason why Trish Shelton had been frequenting the hotel.

By the time Cameron disconnected the call, he was blown away by the facts Ashley had relayed to him, which put the Shelton case to rest and also explained Trish's meeting with Margot. All that was left for Cameron to do was to put together a final report for Doug and then contact him with the details and explanation for his wife's behavior, secrecy, and clandestine meetings. Mia knew about this case, too, and he couldn't wait to tell her how it had ended.

He arrived at home, parked his car in the garage, and stepped inside the house. Rich, redolent scents greeted him, and he followed the delicious smells into the kitchen where he found Mia standing in front of the stove cooking dinner. She was wearing a sexy pair of jean shorts and a pink ribbed tank top, and he had the fleeting thought that if this is what it was like to come home to Mia every night, it was something he could definitely get used to.

"I didn't know you could cook," he teased as he sauntered more fully into the kitchen.

She glanced over her shoulder and smiled, her soft gray eyes sparkling with pleasure at seeing him. "I'll have you know I'm great in the kitchen."

He came up behind her, slid his hands around her waist so his fingers were splayed on her belly, and nuzzled her neck. "I have no doubt you're phenomenal in the kitchen," he murmured in her ear, his voice rumbling with sexy innuendo. "And in the bedroom, and the bathroom…"

She turned around in his arms and gave his stomach a playful punch. "I meant cooking," she chided him, her face alight with amusement.

"Yeah, that, too." He grinned down at her.

She rolled her eyes, though she was laughing. "You've become completely incorrigible."

"It must be your doing," he said, casting the blame her way. "I've always been an upstanding, moral kind of guy… until you."

"True." The corners of her mouth curled upward as she smoothed her fingers over the collar of his shirt. "You're not quite as uptight and stuffy as you once were."

The timer on the counter rang, indicating that something was done. She returned her attention to the meal she was preparing. There were a few pots and pans on the stove top, all of them covered, and she lifted the lid on one of them and stirred the thick, bubbling sauce inside.

"You didn't have to make dinner," he said and leaned a hip against the counter next to her. Whatever she was making smelled heavenly, but he didn't want her to think he expected anything from her because she was staying at his place for the weekend. "We could have ordered in pizza."

She wrinkled her nose at him at that suggestion. "You're truly a bachelor, aren't you? Why have pizza when you can have chicken Parmesan, spaghetti, and a fresh salad?" Scooping up a small spoonful of the sauce, she lifted it up to his lips. "Taste this."

He did and was impressed with the savory flavors that filled his mouth—tomato sauce, basil, and garlic. It reminded of his mother's cooking, meals made from scratch, which he missed because he never took the time and effort to make anything elaborate for himself. It was so much easier to grab something on the run or pop a frozen dinner into the microwave.

This was a welcome change of pace. "If you keep this up, I'm not going to let you go back home."

She went back to checking the entrees on the stove. "You like playing house, hmmm?" she said in that light, frivolous way of hers.

Oh yeah, he liked coming home to Mia, enjoyed seeing her cooking barefoot in his kitchen, and loved having her in his bed all night long. It was a temporary arrangement he wanted to make much more permanent.

"Here, could you put this on the table for me, please?" she asked and handed him a platter of fried, Parmesan-encrusted chicken.

Between the two of them they put everything out on the table and then sat down across from one anther to eat. Cameron heaped his plate with spaghetti and a slice of chicken and smothered both in the sauce. Then he added a side of salad with Italian dressing.

"How did your meeting with Amy go today?" he asked, remembering that Mia had an afternoon appointment at the gallery.

"It went well." She took a sip of her drink. "Only a few more weeks until the show. Invitations go out next week, and I have a couple designs I want to finish up before the date. It's all happening so fast."

He noticed she hadn't mentioned her family at all or how she felt about them attending the show. He thought about asking but then decided not to. This was a huge step for Mia, possibly even a break from the family business, and she needed to play it out her way.

She looked both nervous and excited about the gallery show, but he knew in the end she would be just fine. She was a woman who persevered in the face of a challenge—just so long as it was a situation she wanted to take on.

He let that thought go and recalled his earlier conversation with Ashley. "I finally discovered what Trish Shelton has been up to," he said and took a bite of the delicious, tender chicken.

"Oh?" She glanced across the table at him as she spun spaghetti around her fork. "Was it an affair like her husband thought?"

"Thankfully, no," he said, and that was rare in cases where a spouse was suspected of infidelity. Usually, Cameron presented his client with a guilty verdict and evidence, but not this time, and he could only hope Trish's husband appreciated his wife more than ever after this case. "All the signs were definitely there, and Doug Shelton automatically thought the worst, but he needs to have some faith in his wife."

"Why?" Mia's gaze was bright with curiosity. "What was she really doing?"

"Thanks to Ashley, I now know Trish has spent the past few months planning a very big and lavish surprise party for her husband's fiftieth birthday. It's taking place tomorrow evening in one of the ballrooms of the St. Claire Hotel. Trish was there today to firm up the final details with the banquet manager."

"Wow, all that surveillance and there was no affair after all," she said as she cut her chicken into small pieces. "So how does that other lady Trish was with at the restaurant fit into all this?" Mia asked.

"Margot? She's a graphic design artist, and when I asked Ashley if she was familiar with the name, she said Margot Dalton was working with the banquet manager on some graphic art work for the party. Probably for the invitations or the favors." Finished with his first serving of dinner, Cameron piled more chicken and spaghetti on his plate.