Nightfire. Barbara McCauley

her head, she stood and moved behind her chair. “I can’t do that, Dad. They’re shorthanded right now and one of the boys, Billy, just came back from the hospital today following ear surgery. I promised him I’d be there in the morning to check up on him.”

      “Allison, please,” Oliver said with such quiet desperation that she felt her determination slip. Her father always demanded or he asked, but he never pleaded.

      “I’ve taken a lot of chances in my life,” he continued, “and if it were just myself I wouldn’t give this more than a second thought. But you’re in those pictures, too. You’re the one thing in my life I would never take chances with. Every time you go out in public you’ll be exposing yourself to danger. Kane and I have already agreed that the best thing is for you to stay in the house—”

      “Kane and you agreed?” Anger warmed the chill in the pit of her stomach, anger not only at the intrusion in her life, but that this man Kane, a man she’d never met, was already making decisions for her. Jaw tight, eyes narrowed, she turned to him.

      “That’s another thing I don’t understand,” she said stiffly, holding Kane’s aloof gaze. “My father employs a reputable security company here at the pavilion, but I’ve never seen you before. Just exactly who are you?”

      He stood slowly and moved toward her, stopping only inches away from her. He leaned close, close enough she could smell the masculine scent of his skin and see the subtle variations of deep blue in his eyes. A circle of tension surrounded her, then closed in, tighter and tighter, until she felt as if she could barely breathe. He gazed down intently.

      “I’m the best, that’s who.”

      He spoke with such conviction that only a fool would argue the point. His words were quiet, but he was a man who did not need to raise his voice to get attention, he simply needed to walk into a room.

      And he definitely had her attention.

      A knock at the office door sounded and Mrs. Harwood stuck her head in. “May I see you for a moment, Mr. Westcott?”

      Nodding, Oliver stood. His concerned gaze held Allison. “I know this is a lot coming at you at once, Allison, but there’s no other way to handle this.”

      “Dad—”

      “Please, baby,” Oliver said, brushing the hair back from her face, “just cooperate with Kane. I know he has some questions for you. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

      With a sigh, Allison folded her arms tightly and walked to the window. Cooperate with Kane. Cooperate wasn’t the exact meaning here. More like obey. Frustrated, she drew in a slow, fortifying breath and watched a jagged bolt of lightning burst from the clouds.

      “You okay?” Kane asked as he moved beside her.

      She wasn’t okay. But she sure wasn’t going to let him know that. “My father said you have some questions.”

      He leaned against the windowsill, facing her. “Have you noticed anything unusual these last few days? Anything out of the ordinary?”

      “No.”

      “Someone’s following you and your father, Allison,” Kane said sharply. “If you want me to find them before they find either one of you, then I need your help. I need you to think and think carefully. Have you seen anyone with a camera? The same car more than once? Has anyone stared at you, then quickly looked away?”

      Kane watched Allison’s brow furrow as she considered his question. He realized his last question was a stupid one. What man wouldn’t stare at this woman? Or want to take her picture, for that matter? She was a photographer’s dream: a long, sensuous neck, high cheekbones, thick, dark lashes surrounding expressive wide-set eyes. Eyes a man could drown in, if he wasn’t careful. But Kane, of course, was always careful.

      He stared at Allison’s reflection in the window, watching her closely as she looked down at the streets below. There was something extraordinary about her, something fragile yet strong at the same time. He knew that she’d studied and taught ballet until she was twenty-four, and had danced professionally until she’d hurt her knee two years ago. She had the lean, slender body of a dancer, small, delicately rounded breasts and legs that would stop traffic.

      Under different circumstances he would have pursued this woman with the same diligence he pursued everything in life. But the circumstances wouldn’t allow it. He never became involved with clients, not even for a weekend, which was what he would have had in mind with Allison. He allowed himself one brief image of her stretched out naked beneath him, then quickly banished the thought before his body could react.

      Damn. He nearly sighed out loud. It would have been a hell of a weekend.

      She continued to stare out the window and her voice was distant when she spoke. “I’ve been spending a lot of extra time at work lately, and other than lunch with my father I haven’t been anywhere.”

      “You were out to dinner three nights ago with a man named Michael Peterson.”

      Eyes wide, Allison turned and looked sharply at Kane. “So I was, Mr. Kane. And how would you happen to know that?”

      He had her full attention now. Good. “What I know and how I know it isn’t important. What is important is that you try to remember where you’ve been this last week, especially on the days those pictures were taken. Everywhere you went, everyone you talked to and everyone who talked to you. Think carefully.”

      Allison was having trouble thinking at all. First she’d had the shock of the pictures, and now this man was nonchalantly reporting who she’d been to dinner with. She was beginning to wonder who she should be more worried about—the man taking the pictures or Mr. Thomas Kane.

      “I’d remember anyone strange at the center,” she said with exasperation. “But beyond that I couldn’t possibly remember every person I’ve talked to.”

      “You have to remember,” he insisted. “A clerk, a waiter, someone who may have asked you for the time or held the door for you. Anything and everything. It might matter a lot to you, and to your father, as well.”

      Her father. She remembered the murdered CEO and closed her eyes, concentrating, forcing her mind to recall every movement of the last few days, to search for anything even remotely out of the ordinary.

      There was the dry cleaners’…the service on her car…dinner with Michael…

      Nothing exciting and certainly nothing out of the ordinary.

      Sighing, she looked at Kane and shook her head. “I couldn’t even tell you what I had for dinner the other night.”

      “Chicken amandine.”

      Stunned, she simply stared at him. And then something incredible happened.

      He smiled.

      Well, almost a smile, Allison corrected. It was more like the slightest uplifting of one corner of his mouth and an imperceptible tightening at the edges of his eyes. Though only for a second, the hard, sharp angles of his face softened. The change was subtle, but the effect was overwhelming. She felt the steady, deep thud of her heart and cursed herself for finding him attractive. “You mentioned my father hired you because you’re the best, Mr. Kane. What exactly is it that you’re best at?”

      Too late, Allison realized the sexual nature of her question. In the briefest moment, as they stared at each other, it seemed as if the storm had moved into the room with them and charged the air with electricity. She felt it skipping up her back and tightening her skin. She held her breath, anticipating his answer.

      “Kidnapping.”

      She blinked slowly. “You kidnap people?”

      Kane’s smile widened a fraction. “I’m more interested in prevention.”

      “That’s what you do?” She lowered her brow. “You prevent kidnappings?”

      “It’s a