Reality and memories crashed through her. Mortified, she knew she was flushing a deep red.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, snatching up her glasses. “I was a little disoriented.”
Damned if she would tell him that she wasn’t accustomed to waking up to a man in her bed. It was bad enough that she had let him know she’d never had an orgasm with one until last night.
“Don’t worry,” he said, yawning. “You’ll get used to it. You want to answer that phone?”
She had her glasses on now. It dawned on her that the phone was still warbling.
“Right,” she said briskly. “The phone.”
The instrument was on the table on his side of the bed. To get to it she would have to reach across him. She went blank again at the prospect.
Amused, he picked up the receiver and handed it to her.
“Yes?” She held the phone as though she had never before had one in her hand.
“Miss Tallentyre? This is Burton at the front desk. Sorry if I woke you but I wanted to let you know there’s a police detective on his way up to see you. I tried to make him wait until I called you but the sonofa—I mean the guy flashed a badge at me and headed for the stairs. Cops always act like they own the world, y’know?”
Burton sounded even more nervous than usual.
She forced herself to concentrate. “Is it Chief Langdon?”
“No. Guy said his name is Mitchell. Detective from Oriana. Says he knows you.”
“Bradley?” She stared at the wall on the far side of the room, trying to wrap her mind around the name. “Here?”
“I just told you, his name is Mitchell, not Bradley.”
“Right. Thank you.”
She handed the phone back to Zack. He took it, one brow raised, and gently replaced the receiver.
“Company?” he asked neutrally.
“Yes. Bradley Mitchell.”
“The Oriana detective you’ve been working with?”
“Uh-huh.” She pushed the bedding aside and swung her feet to the floor. “For some reason, I seem to be very popular all of a sudden.”
“You’ll be even more popular if you answer the door dressed like that,” Zack observed drily.
She glanced down and discovered that she was stark naked. “Oh, damn.”
She grabbed her robe and hastily pulled it on. Zack uncoiled from the bed with an easy, masculine grace. He was wearing his briefs. Crossing the room, he picked up his black T-shirt and trousers.
She scurried into the bathroom and checked herself in the mirror. The disheveled creature gazing back at her looked as if she had just climbed out of bed after a night of extremely hot sex. She ran a brush through her hair but that didn’t do much to alter the impression.
A knock sounded on the door.
“I’ll get it,” Zack said a little too casually. “Take your time.”
She rushed to the bathroom doorway but he was already on his way to the door, anticipation flowing off him in palpable waves. She noticed he had put on his leather jacket. When she glanced at the bedside table she saw that the gun and holster were gone. The testosterone level in the room was suddenly off the charts.
She went into full deer-in-the-headlights mode. Was letting Zack answer the door a good idea or a really bad one?
Then her head miraculously cleared and she suddenly felt extremely cheerful.
Letting Zack answer the door was an excellent notion.
She turned and went back into the bathroom.
“Thank you,” she called over her shoulder. “I’ll just be a minute.”
She closed the door, whirled around and pressed her ear to the panel.
The door opened in the outer room.
“Sorry,” Bradley said, startled. “Wrong room. Could have sworn the guy at the front desk said number six.”
“Looking for someone?” Zack asked a little too helpfully.
“A woman. Must be the door across the hall.”
“There’s a woman in this room,” Zack assured him. “Raine’s in the bathroom at the moment, about to take a shower. We just got up.”
“Raine Tallentyre?” Bradley was uncharacteristically flustered. “She’s here?”
“Right,” Zack said. “I’ll tell you what, why don’t you go back downstairs? I’ll let Raine know you’re here. If she wants to talk to you, she’ll meet you in the lobby after she gets out of the shower.”
“Listen, I don’t know who the hell you are, but I can tell something’s wrong here. I’m Bradley Mitchell with the—”
“Oriana PD. I know. Nice badge, by the way.”
“I want to speak to Raine,” Bradley said. “Now.”
Raine winced. Bradley was using his hard cop voice. That was not good.
“Is this police business or personal?” Zack asked, politely curious.
“This is official business.”
“In that case, maybe she should talk to her lawyer first.”
“That’s enough, I’m coming in.”
“I don’t think so.” Zack’s voice was suddenly ice cold.
“I don’t know who the hell you are,” Bradley growled, “but as far as I’m concerned, I’ve got probable cause to think you may have harmed Raine Tallentyre. Get out of my way.”
So much for her little moment of feminine revenge. The adrenaline and testosterone in the other room had reached toxic levels. It was time to intervene.
With a tiny sigh of regret because she had just begun to enjoy herself, she opened the bathroom door and put her head around it.
“Bradley,” she said brightly. “I thought I heard your voice. What are you doing here in Shelbyville?”
Bradley looked past Zack, staring at her. Confusion and anger tightened his photogenic features. He looked like a homicide cop off a television series: hard-eyed and square-jawed. His dark hair was just long enough to touch the back of his collar. This morning he was dressed in jeans, an open-throated shirt and a slouchy sports jacket.
“What the hell is going on, Raine?” he asked. He seemed mesmerized by the sight of her in her robe. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she assured him. She folded her arms and lounged in the doorway, going for total nonchalance. “What are you doing here?”
“I got a call from the local chief.” Bradley frowned. “Guy named Langdon. He told me that you and some real estate agent found one of the Bonfire Killer’s victims in your aunt’s basement. That right?”