Too Close for Comfort. Heidi Rice

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       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      Special thanks go to fellow authors Scarlet Wilson and Libby Mercer for their help in making my Scottish heroine and my Californian hero sound real (I hope).

      And to the lovely Roberto, who gave me an invaluable insight into the culture and traditions of California’s Mexican-American community—any mistakes in the portrayal are entirely mine.

      CHAPTER ONE

      ‘HEY, MITCH, WAS there anything on a kid in Demarest’s file? About five-two or-three, hundred and ten pounds?’

      Zane Montoya squinted into the shadows of the motel parking lot, trying to make out any other usable details. But whoever the kid was, he was being real careful not to stray into the pools of light cast by the streetlamps, making the fine hairs on Zane’s neck prickle. He’d been staking out Brad Demarest’s motel room for five hours—taking over right after Mitch had called in with the flu—and Montoya Investigations had been on the guy’s tail for six months now. Getting the tip that this by-the-hour motel on the outskirts of Morro Bay was Demarest’s latest bolt hole had been their first break in weeks. And his gut was telling him the kid was casing the joint. And he didn’t like it, because if Demarest showed up the last thing Zane needed was some little troublemaker alerting the guy to their presence—or, worse, spooking him before they could do a citizen’s arrest.

      ‘Is this kid a girl or a boy?’ Mitch’s voice croaked.

      ‘Don’t you think I would have…?’ Zane’s frustrated whisper cut off as the kid stepped back and the yellow glow of the streetlamp illuminated a sprinkle of freckles, vivid red-and-gold curls springing out from under a low-riding ball cap and the curve of a full breast beneath the skintight black tank she wore over camo trousers and boots. ‘It’s a girl.’

      A girl who had to be up to no good. Why else would she be dressed up like GI Jane?

      ‘Make that a young woman—eighteen to twenty-five—Caucasian with red shoulder-length hair.’

      The girl melted into the shadows as he tried to picture the intriguing features he’d glimpsed on a mugshot.

      ‘She doesn’t look familiar,’ he murmured, more to himself than Mitch.

      He’d reread Demarest’s file while gorging himself on the endless supply of junk food Mitch had stashed in the glove compartment, but he couldn’t remember any of Demarest’s known associates fitting her description.

      Mitch gave a weighty sigh. ‘If she’s hanging round his motel room, she’s probably another mark.’

      ‘I don’t think so—she’s too young,’ Zane replied. And way too cute. He cut off the thought. If she was mixed up with Demarest, she couldn’t be that cute. A one-time B-movie producer who’d taken a brief detour into porn before finding a more lucrative income duping rich women by promising to make them movie stars, Demarest was a typical LA parasite. But this kid with her pale skin, her freckles, her silicone-free breasts and her furtive activities looked anything but his typical mark.

      ‘Don’t be too sure,’ Mitch replied. ‘The guy cast a wide net and he wasn’t choosy.’

      ‘Oh, hell,’ Zane muttered as the girl approached the door to Demarest’s room. ‘Call Jim for back-up,’ he added sharply. ‘And get him over here now.’

      ‘Has Demarest showed up?’ Mitch’s croak rippled with excitement.

      ‘No.’ Thank God. ‘But Jim’ll have to take over the surveillance. We’ve got trouble.’ He glared across the lot, his irritation levels rising as his stomach sank. ‘Because whoever the heck she is, she’s just broken into his motel room.’

      He shoved the cell into his back pocket as he lurched out of the car and headed across the parking lot.

      Just what he needed after five hours sitting in a damn СКАЧАТЬ