“She’s not going to like it that you’ve been digging,” Blake warned, revealing an intimate knowledge of women.
Trent scowled. “Then she shouldn’t have told me she was afraid someone was following her. There was no way I could just let that go.”
“Look, Trent, it probably is nothing, but you should still warn your friend to be careful, you know? Her father’s one of the richest men in Georgia. She’s rich in her own right from an inheritance she received from her grandparents. She’s living there alone and unprotected while she plays out her little rebellion, whatever her reasons. I don’t have to tell you that there are people who would take advantage of that.”
“No.” Trent squeezed the taut muscles at the back of his neck, trying to decide how he felt about hearing the truth about Annie’s background. He came up with the answer only a few minutes after hanging up the phone.
The news had infuriated him almost as much as it had depressed him.
ANNIE’S STEPS were definitely dragging when she got home at almost 10:00 p.m. Thursday. It had been a long day, starting with a very dirty house and ending with a lengthy practice session with Bobbie’s enthusiastic, but decidedly amateur, church choir. She almost screamed when someone stepped out of the shadows of her porch just as she reached the front door. “Damn it, Trent, are you trying to give me a heart attack? You have to stop sneaking up on me this way.”
“You never even looked to see if anyone was here. I could have been anyone.”
She unlocked her door. “Did you come to visit me or to lecture me?”
“I came because you didn’t answer your phone when I tried to call. I wanted to make sure you were all right. Surely you haven’t been working this late.”
She turned on the lights as she entered the house, Trent right at her heels. She ran a hand through her hair, then turned to face him. “I was practicing with your mother’s church choir. I’m filling in for the pianist who broke her leg.”
“I suppose my mother talked you into that?”
“She asked if I could help out.”
“And you couldn’t say no, right? Your days weren’t quite busy enough, so you decided to take on another job.”
She was beginning to figure out that Trent was angry, and she had a feeling it had nothing to do with her getting home so late. Studying the man who had made love with her so beautifully only a few days before and who now looked like a fierce stranger, she said, “I don’t mind helping the choir out. They’ve been working very hard on a special piece for Easter, and it would have been a shame if they couldn’t perform because of their accompanist’s accident.”
“And won’t it be a shame if their substitute accompanist collapses from exhaustion during the performance? Because that’s what’s going to happen if you don’t slow down and get some rest.”
She almost sighed. “Are we back to that? I thought I’d convinced you that I’m fine. I’m not overdoing it.”
He took a step toward her and brushed the backs of his fingers across her cheek. The tenderness of his touch almost made her shiver. “You might have a better chance of convincing me if you didn’t have those hollows under your eyes,” he said in a low voice. “Or if you hadn’t lost so much weight in just the couple of months I’ve known you.”
She winced at that direct shot. Truth was, she had lost weight since she’d moved here, a result of so many skipped meals and so much physical activity. She knew she was a bit too thin, but she’d planned to start eating better as soon as things slowed down some—whenever that might be. As for her sleepless nights—those were due more to Trent than to overwork, something she decided not to mention just now.
“I’ll slow down after this Easter program. I’ve already turned down a couple of cleaning jobs. I put them on a waiting list because I simply didn’t have any openings now.”
Instead of appeasing him, her words seem to irritate him further. He dropped his hand and stepped away, the fleeting glimpse of her one-night lover gone now. “Why the hell are you scrubbing toilets and mopping floors, anyway?”
Stung by the implied criticism, she lifted her chin proudly. “Because I have to earn a living.”
His reply to that was a muttered curse.
“Just what is your problem today, Trent?” she asked, losing patience with him.
“My problem? Nathaniel Stewart’s daughter is unnecessarily working herself to the bone and she asks if I have a problem?”
Annie went rigid. “How do you know who my father is?”
“Did you really think I wouldn’t try to find out if someone has been following you? You’re the one who told me there was a possibility your father could be involved. All I did was try to find out if that was true.”
“But how did you—?”
“I called my brother-in-law. Blake Fox. He’s a P.I. in Atlanta.”
“I wish you hadn’t done that. No one here knows who my father is, and I prefer to keep it that way—for obvious reasons.”
“I don’t intend to take out an ad in the local paper. I won’t tell anyone else and neither will Blake, but I would have thought you could have told me.”