happens.”
“I promise.”
CHAPTER THREE
Later that evening, Annessa sat on the sofa in the middle of her childhood living room with her arm throbbing and wondered where in the world things had gone so terribly wrong. She was a wedding planner, for Pete’s sake. Not exactly a dangerous occupation.
Until last week.
She tossed her head back against the sofa cushions and squeezed her eyes closed while she twisted the bracelet on her wrist round and round. She needed a game plan. A very good, very quick one.
First things first. She should call her boss. The poor woman was probably frantic right about now. Granted, Dorie Palmer had a flair for exaggeration but she always seemed sincere. Annessa opened her eyes and glanced at the cordless phone on the coffee table. Not an option.
Her cell phone came to mind next and she quickly dispelled that notion also. Cell phones sent signals that could easily be tracked. She only carried it now for the address book.
She rubbed both hands down her face. Maybe she should just bite the bullet and find Casey. No doubt the man would kick some major ass on her behalf.
No. Not until she had no other choice.
She stood and headed to the front door, determined to get to the bottom of things herself. She stopped only to shove a vial of pepper spray, a roll of quarters, and her cell phone deep in her pocket before she punched the lock on the door and slammed it behind her.
Ten minutes later, she stood in front of an honest-to-God payphone at a real-live-full-service-gas-station and fed quarters into the hungry slot. Thank Jesus for small towns.
She tapped one toe, dialed Los Angeles, and waited for her boss to answer. Anxiety muddled her brain until she heard the other woman’s voice.
“Dorie, hi, it’s Annessa.”
“Annessa! Where are you? I’ve been worried sick!”
“Yeah, so sorry to run out on you like that. I had to leave town for some family business.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Yes, please don’t worry, I just might be gone awhile.” Hopefully not permanently .
“No worries. Take your time. I can call in the reserves if I need to.”
“Thanks, Dorie.”
“Oh, the Marcelli family asked for you. They were extremely pleased with the wedding. I gave Mr. Marcelli your cell number.”
The phone fell from Annessa’s grasp while her heart plummeted. Oh, God . She grabbed the phone cord, lifted the receiver back to her ear, and lied through her teeth. “Um, actually I don’t have my cell with me. I left it in my apartment.”
“Oh, well that explains why he was concerned he couldn’t reach you. When should I tell him to expect your call?”
“Give me at least a couple weeks. I should be back in Los Angeles by then.”
“Is there anything I can do for you?”
“No, thanks again, Dorie. I’ll see you when I get back.”
Annessa slammed down the phone. Damn, damn, damn, just … damn ! Her head ached all over again and a shudder crossed her spine.
Normally in a crisis such as this, she would run right into the arms of Casey McIntyre and stick out her tongue at the trouble that attempted to attack her. Without fail, he would welcome her into the depths, wrap her with his big, strapping muscled biceps, kiss the top of her head and chase away the evil.
She released a hard sigh and squared her shoulders. Not this time. She glanced across the street, her gaze bouncing from McGill’s on the corner to Sue’s Diner, a couple of buildings down the block. Alcohol or pie. She groaned and headed toward Sue’s – only because alcohol would most definitely bring Casey.
She pushed open the door, the bell overhead announcing her entrance. A petite blonde, not much taller than herself, almost skipped from the opposite end.
“Hi! How many, honey?”
Annessa fought a threatened eye roll. “Just me.”
“Have a seat anywhere.” The waitress waved a hand in the air. “Not much activity right now.”
Annessa barely had time to cram herself into a corner
“I promise.”
CHAPTER THREE
Later that evening, Annessa sat on the sofa in the middle of her childhood living room with her arm throbbing and wondered where in the world things had gone so terribly wrong. She was a wedding planner, for Pete’s sake. Not exactly a dangerous occupation.
Until last week.
She tossed her head back against the sofa cushions and squeezed her eyes closed while she twisted the bracelet on her wrist round and round. She needed a game plan. A very good, very quick one.
First things first. She should call her boss. The poor woman was probably frantic right about now. Granted, Dorie Palmer had a flair for exaggeration but she always seemed sincere. Annessa opened her eyes and glanced at the cordless phone on the coffee table. Not an option.
Her cell phone came to mind next and she quickly dispelled that notion also. Cell phones sent signals that could easily be tracked. She only carried it now for the address book.
She rubbed both hands down her face. Maybe she should just bite the bullet and find Casey. No doubt the man would kick some major ass on her behalf.
No. Not until she had no other choice.
She stood and headed to the front door, determined to get to the bottom of things herself. She stopped only to shove a vial of pepper spray, a roll of quarters, and her cell phone deep in her pocket before she punched the lock on the door and slammed it behind her.
Ten minutes later, she stood in front of an honest-to-God payphone at a real-live-full-service-gas-station and fed quarters into the hungry slot. Thank Jesus for small towns.
She tapped one toe, dialed Los Angeles, and waited for her boss to answer. Anxiety muddled her brain until she heard the other woman’s voice.
“Dorie, hi, it’s Annessa.”
“Annessa! Where are you? I’ve been worried sick!”
“Yeah, so sorry to run out on you like that. I had to leave town for some family business.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Yes, please don’t worry, I just might be gone awhile.” Hopefully not permanently .
“No worries. Take your time. I can call in the reserves if I need to.”
“Thanks, Dorie.”
“Oh, the Marcelli family asked for you. They were extremely pleased with the wedding. I gave Mr. Marcelli your cell number.”
The phone fell from Annessa’s grasp while her heart plummeted. Oh, God . She grabbed the phone cord, lifted the receiver back to her ear, and lied through her teeth. “Um, actually I don’t have my cell with me. I left it in my apartment.”
“Oh, well that explains why he was concerned he couldn’t reach you. When should I tell him to expect your call?”
“Give me at least a couple weeks. I should be back in Los Angeles by then.”
“Is there anything I can do for you?”
“No, thanks again, Dorie. I’ll see you when I get back.”
Annessa slammed down the phone. Damn, damn, damn, just … damn ! Her head ached all over again and a shudder crossed her spine.
Normally in a crisis such as this, she would run right into the arms of Casey McIntyre and stick out her tongue at the trouble that attempted to attack her. Without fail, he would welcome her into the depths, wrap her with his big, strapping muscled biceps, kiss the top of her head and chase away the evil.
She released a hard sigh and squared her shoulders. Not this time. She glanced across the street, her gaze bouncing from McGill’s on the corner to Sue’s Diner, a couple of buildings down the block. Alcohol or pie. She groaned and headed toward Sue’s – only because alcohol would most definitely bring Casey.
She pushed open the door, the bell overhead announcing her entrance. A petite blonde, not much taller than herself, almost skipped from the opposite end.
“Hi! How many, honey?”
Annessa fought a threatened eye roll. “Just me.”
“Have a seat anywhere.” The waitress waved a hand in the air. “Not much activity right now.”
Annessa barely had time to cram herself into a corner
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