Pull Of The Moon. Sylvie Kurtz

swept over her. “Hey! Turn on the lights! Open the door!”

      She panted as she tried to control the sense of impending doom sweeping over her. The burn of tears stung her eyes and, hanging on to the knob as a child would, the craziest need to call “Mama” bubbled on her trembling lips.

      Not that her mother was the kind who’d fussed over emotional outbursts. You don’t need a night-light, Valerie. You’re a big girl, and big girls don’t cry.

      Valerie blinked madly, survival instinct kicking back in. She banged on the door with the flat of her hand. “This isn’t funny!”

      Nicolas Galloway. He’d done this. Did he really think locking her in the bathroom was going to send her crying home? It would take a lot more than that to make her go crawling back to the station empty-handed.

      Her grip tightened on the doorknob, and she pushed, turned and tugged with all her might. When she got out of there, she was going to strangle him. “Open the door!”

Chapter Three

      Teeth bared, Valerie jammed her shoulder into the bathroom door and grunted. She’d barely connected with the wood when the door burst open, and she tumbled into Nick’s arms.

      His hands held her forearms in a vise-tight grip to keep her from colliding with his chest. Even through the wool blend of her blazer sleeves, the vibrating heat of his anger burned her.

      “What on earth are you doing?” he asked.

      “The door was stuck.” She spied the wooden doorstop in his hand. This little thing was what had caused her full-blown panic attack? She snatched the offending piece of wood from his hand and held it up. “It’s going to take a lot more than locking me in the bathroom to discourage me.”

      Even if his cheap bathroom trick had worked at scaring her—momentarily—it wasn’t going to make her disappear.

      Guarded tension stretched his features taut. He pushed her away, breaking the heated hum of contact where his hard fingers had dug into her forearms. “Trust me, Val, if I choose to intimidate you, you’ll know.”

      “Valerie.” She rubbed her arms against the sudden need to bury herself deeper into his embrace and breathe in the alluring scent of citrus and sandalwood of his aftershave. How crazy was that? One little scare, and like a two-year-old, she was ready to seek solace in the first pair of arms that turned up.

      “So if you didn’t lock me in the bathroom, who did?” The woman with the braid? These people’s overprotective-ness of Rita Meadows made Valerie’s mother’s watchful smothering seem like neglect in comparison. “How many people work here?”

      “That’s none of your concern. Val.”

      “Valerie,” she insisted, narrowing her eyes at him. Had someone bribed the staff in the past? Was that where his wariness was coming from? “And it does concern me when someone locks me in the bathroom. What if you hadn’t come by?”

      “You made enough racket. Someone would’ve heard you eventually.”

      “That’s not the point—”

      “I’ll handle the matter.”

      She stuffed the doorstop in the kerchief pocket of his suit and gave it a pat. “Fine. See that it doesn’t happen again.” She didn’t really have a choice other than to let him “handle the matter.” She wasn’t here to investigate the staff’s juvenile intimidation tactics. She was here to conduct interviews. “How is Ms. Meadows?”

      His eyes softened for a second. “Just a cold. She’ll be fine.”

      But something in his expression told her he was more worried than a simple cold would warrant. “I’ll come back tomorrow, then. When she’s feeling better.”

      “That would be best.”

      Valerie buttoned her blazer, adding an extra buffer between them. “The photograph? From the agenda? Why does Ms. Meadows have it?”

      A muscle in his jaw jumped. “It’s an age progression. She has one done every year on Valentina’s birthday.”

      Valerie’s heart went out to Rita. Had she had the photo done as a way to watch her baby grow? No, Valerie decided. So she’d know what Valentina would look like if she saw her on the street somewhere. Maybe airing the segment would provide Rita with the resolution she needed.

      “It, uh, looks like me.” The resemblance was uncanny and the memory of that likeness sent a shiver prickling over her scalp. Had Rita thought that Valerie was her daughter? Was that why she’d asked the personal questions? Although what height had to do with anything was a puzzle.

      Nick’s gaze hardened and bored into her with a warning that seemed to aim straight at her heart. His voice rode a flat line that reverberated with threat. “But it isn’t you, Val. Something you’d best remember. Valentina is dead. I have proof. There won’t be a fat payday. Not if I can help it.”

      Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. “Is that why you’re being such a jerk? You think I think I’m Valentina? That’s ridiculous.”

      “What’ll it take to make you disappear?”

      “What?”

      He whipped out a checkbook from the inside breast pocket of his suit jacket. “How much?”

      One hand covered her heart. “You can’t be serious. You think I want money?”

      He stepped closer until his breath was a warm flutter against her lips. “That’s all they want in the end.”

      Her mind was blurring again. No, Nick, no. You know that’s not true. “They?”

      “All the other girls over the years who’ve come knocking at the door pretending they’re the long-lost Valentina. ” He lifted a strand of her hair, rolled it between his fingers, then tucked it behind her ear. She leaned into his hand as if she’d done this very thing before. As if he had. Jeez, Louise, she really needed some food before she went totally over the edge.

      His thumb skimmed the outline of her cheek in a way that let her know that he could kill her just as easily as kiss her. Wow, where had that come from? As if she’d ever want a kiss from someone who thought she was using her job to extort money.

      “I’m not like all those girls. I’m not like anyone you’ve ever met.” She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. She searched the hard planes of Nick’s face, looking for…what? An explanation as to why she thought he would know her? Even stranger, that she should know him? That if she could just squeeze the right place on his waist, he would double over in helpless laughter?

      He flattened a hand on the door frame beside her face, caging her against the wall. “That’s where you’re wrong. I’ve met a hundred girls like you. They’ve all convinced themselves they’re the one.”

      A restless menace lurked right beneath the suit. But as much as he growled and barked and bared his teeth, he would never hurt her. The truth of that knowledge resonated soul deep. Which didn’t mean she wanted to test that theory quite yet.

      She planted a palm against his chest and pushed him away. “I have a mother and a good life in Florida. I don’t need to borrow anybody else’s. So chill, okay? You said Valentina was dead. That you had proof? What kind?”

      “That’s really none of your concern.”

      “Well, see, that’s where I don’t agree. Everything that concerns Valentina concerns me.”

      “And you think I’m just going to hand you ammunition?”

      She tipped her head and squinted at him. “To fleece Ms. Meadows? No. To help me put on the best segment I can? Yes. If you have proof that Valentina is dead, then