The Betrayed. Jana DeLeon

she said a little too quickly. “It’s just that the house is full of valuable antiques and if word gets out it’s empty at night...”

      She was lying. She was very, very good at it, but he’d employed too many ex-cons to recognize a snow job when he was getting one. The house was full of antiques, and he suspected a lot of them were valuable, but that wasn’t the reason she was worried about intruders.

      Maybe Danae had brought trouble with her to Calais. Maybe she was afraid that trouble was about to catch up with her. Either way, in addition to tiptoeing around with his own agenda, he was going to have to constantly look over his own shoulder, watching for whatever the heiress was hiding from.

      “Okay,” he said finally. “It’s your house.”

      He motioned to a door in the corner behind her. “Bathroom or closet?”

      “Closet, I think. I’m sorry. There’re so many rooms, I haven’t gotten everything straight yet.”

      She turned and pulled the door open. As soon as she did, a stack of boxes tilted out and toppled onto her, sending her reeling backward. Mice scattered across the floor, scurrying in every direction, looking for an escape.

      He rushed forward, catching her before she crashed to the ground. She’d twisted her body in anticipation of the fall, trying to reach for the floor before slamming into it. Now she was gathered in his arms, the front of her toned, curvy body pressed against him. That beautiful face looking up at him—so strong, yet vulnerable.

      It was a bad idea, but before he could talk himself out of it, he lowered his lips to hers.

      Her lips were soft and pliant as he caressed them with his own, and he felt a surge of excitement go through him that he hadn’t felt before from a simple kiss. He pressed harder, deepening the kiss, and was almost surprised when she responded, her lips searching his.

      Then suddenly, she jumped up and backed away from him, one hand over her mouth. She stared at him, her face flushed, her expression a mixture of shock and anxiety.

      “You should finish this yourself.” She whirled around and practically ran out of the room.

      He stared at the empty doorway, trying to decide if he’d been a genius or a fool. On one hand, he’d probably prevented her from asking more intrusive questions about his life. Clearly, she wanted to avoid anything personal.

      On the other hand, he’d enjoyed that kiss entirely too much for his own comfort.

      Get in gear, Sargent!

      He grabbed the paper and pen and hustled out of the room, his mind suddenly latching onto the golden opportunity she’d presented. For the first time since he’d entered the property, Danae wasn’t looking over his shoulder. She was flustered enough to rush off, so with any luck, she’d remain far away until he sought her out. That gave him a window of opportunity to create an entry into the home.

      The one functional window in the first room had led straight into a huge, thorny rosebush, so it wasn’t an option. He hoped his luck would be better in the second room, but it had furniture and boxes stacked to the ceiling and he could barely squeeze inside. No feasible way to reach the windows existed, so he continued to the next room. This one wasn’t quite as cluttered, but it still contained stacks of paper, boxes and small furniture. He lifted several boxes away from the wall where he guessed the window was located and was pleased to find only two nails through the frame.

      He hurried back to the doorway and glanced around the entry, then pulled out his pocketknife and began working the first nail from the frame. Every time the knife blade slipped from under the nail’s head, he mentally cursed and wished for the pry bar in his truck, but no way was he risking the opportunity by leaving the house to get it.

      Finally, the first nail worked out of the frame and he checked the entry again before starting on the second nail. This one was deeper, leaving creases in the hardwood where it had been pounded into the frame, and he struggled to get even a tiny piece of his knife blade underneath.

      Suddenly, there was a loud thud overhead and he froze before closing the pocketknife and shoving it into his jeans pocket. Then he dashed back to the front of the room and grabbed the paper and pen. He peered out the door, but saw no sign of Danae. Then a second thud echoed across the entry from above, letting him know someone was moving around upstairs.

      Surely it was Danae working upstairs. He started to run back to the window to finish up but hesitated. Seconds later, Danae rushed into the entry from the kitchen hallway, her eyes wide.