gray slacks fit him in ways most men wished for, and to the black button-down shirt he was wearing, top buttons undone. Finally my eyes came to rest on his face.
It was the first time I’d seen Adam with a shadow of stubble, which was definitely working for him. I met his eyes, and they flickered in annoyance. Something was definitely not right, because this look was far different from his usual expression of amusement when he’d catch me blatantly ogling his magnificence.
“Maddy, are you going to just stand there, or are you coming in?” Adam snapped, impatience coloring his every word.
Huffing, I brushed past him into the foyer. “Geez, somebody sure is cranky,” I muttered under my breath.
He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “We need to discuss something.” He turned and began walking down the hallway. “Follow me,” he said. “We can talk in my study.”
Aah, the study, I thought. Must be serious.
Trailing behind him, feeling more like I was off to the principal’s office, I sighed. “What’s going on, Adam?”
“We’ll discuss it in here,” he said brusquely. We’d reached the door, and he pushed it open.
Adam’s study was smaller than most of the rooms in his place, but it was by no means tiny. Tastefully decorated, the study was a cross between a traditional Old World study and an executive’s office.
He led me to a plush, burgundy leather chair that faced the front of his ornately trimmed dark wood desk. “Sit,” he commanded.
Maybe due to Adam’s no-nonsense demeanor, maybe due to the air of authority with which the atmosphere pulsed, I couldn’t be sure. But, in any case, I quickly obeyed, gently placing my bag on the floor next to me. Adam took a seat in an elegant, black leather chair behind his desk. What an image—the powerful Adam Ward in his element.
Evening was rapidly approaching. The light from the large, single window in the room—overlooking the ocean through a break in the thick pines surrounding Adam’s compound—was waning.
Adam clicked on a desk lamp, and I cleared my throat. “There’s obviously something wrong,” I began. “Are you mad about something?”
Instead of answering Adam shot me a pointed look, and then he withdrew a key from his pant pocket. Reaching down, he inserted it into the bottom right-hand desk drawer.
“I’m not mad at you, Madeleine,” Adam said distractedly, head down as he turned the key and entered a code into what I assumed was a keypad built right into the drawer. “However, something has come to my attention with which I’m not particularly pleased.”
The drawer sprung open, and I waited, still having no idea what Adam could be referring to. When he looked up, his serious gaze met mine. In his hands he held a stack of photos. Of what I didn’t know, but I had a feeling I was about to find out.
“Can you do something for me?” His voice was even and smooth, businesslike.
“Sure, anything,” I replied.
Adam slid the photos across the vast expanse of the desk. “I know you’re set on this little quest of yours to research my ex’s disappearance. But I’d prefer if you stayed away from this place.” Adam nodded to the pictures, so I picked them up.
There were about a dozen four-by-six-inch color photos, all of me going into (and coming out of) Billy’s. They’d been taken earlier today. Unbelievable!
Instantly I was furious. “You had someone follow me?” I accused, my voice raised. I tossed the photos back at Adam, scattering the glossy images across his otherwise tidy desk.
“Maddy, calm down,” he said reproachfully.
“No! I’m not going to calm down. I knew I was being followed today, but I never expected you were the one behind it.”
Adam’s expression betrayed his displeasure with my outburst. “There’s no reason to get this upset. I asked Max to follow you for your own safety.”
“Max again?” I scoffed. “And I’m supposed to believe you’re that concerned with my safety?”
“Madeleine,” Adam said warningly. “Need I remind you of the other night with J.T. O’Brien?”
That gave me pause, because maybe it wasn’t that crazy to believe Adam had had Max follow me for my own protection. After all, it wasn’t like Billy’s was exactly safe. An image of Zeb pretending to “shoot” me with the pool stick flashed through my mind.
I shuddered and said, “But pictures, Adam? Really? Don’t you think that’s a bit much?”
His eyes held no apology. “I wanted to see what you were up to anyway,” he stated matter-of-factly. Ah, there’s the