Coming Undone by Susan Andersen Read Free Book Online Page A

he tugged on his jeans and headed for the door.
    As he pulled it open he heard a muffled thud and P.J.’s voice exclaiming, “What the—?”
    Strolling out into the corridor, he saw her bending over to peer at the line stretched across her doorway. Her suitcase lay on its back half in, half out of her room.
    “Going somewhere, P.J.?”
    She raised furious eyes. “What the hell is this?”
    “A rudimentary but effective alarm system. Checking out?”
    “I’d considered it. I want to leave town before the press gets wind that I’m here.” She looked at his naked chest, then raised resentful eyes to meet his gaze. “But I guess it can wait till morning.” Whispering a curse, she dragged her bag back into her room and slammed the door.
    Score one for his side. With a satisfied smile, Jared reset his line and returned to his room, as well.
    Now maybe they could both get a few hours’ sleep.

CHAPTER FOUR
    And on the music front, a little birdie just told me that singer Priscilla Jayne hired power agent Ben McGrath to replace the mother she fired.
    —“Dishing With Charley” columnist Charlene Baines, Nashville News Today
    W HEN THE ALARM WENT OFF at eight the next morning P.J. had no idea where she was for a few disoriented moments. Then the smell of cigarette smoke on her skin and in her hair registered—that all-too-familiar reek of bars and honky-tonks. The stench brought last night’s events rushing back and she crawled out of bed and stumbled over to the complimentary coffeemaker to assemble a pot. The minute it started burbling she stuck her cup in the coffeepot space. When it was full she exchanged it for the glass container and knocked the drink back in one long swallow.
    Finally feeling awake enough to quit stumbling over her own feet, she headed for the bathroom to take a quick shower. Then she dried off, pulled on a short cotton two-flounce lime green skirt and a white tank top and threw her toiletries into her suitcase. Bundling last night’s smoke-saturated outfit into a plastic bag, she tucked it alongside her cosmetic pouch and zipped the suitcase closed.
    After piling her belongings next to the door, she called down to the front desk. “This is Priscilla Morgan in room 617,” she said in a tremulous voice when they picked up. “Would you send up the manager, please? Right away? And I need my bill prepared for checkout.”
    There was a knock on her door within five minutes. P.J. opened it the barest crack and peered out.
    “Miss Morgan? I’m Jed Turner, the manager. You requested to speak to me?” She saw him stare down at the fishing line tied to her door knob, watched as his gaze tracked it along the hallway. “What is this?”
    “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” she whispered. “The man next door is stalking me.”
    “He’s what? ”
    “Shh. Please.” She cast a nervous eye in the direction of room 619. “He’s been following me for days, and last night he somehow discovered which room I was in and managed to get accommodations in the one next door.” She let out a shuddery sigh. “He tied that line to my door. It leads to his room where it’s tied to something that forms a rudimentary alarm system. I know because he told me so last night when I tried to leave.” She looked up at the manager. “I’m scared, Mr. Turner. I think he’s…disturbed, and I can’t get out of my room without him knowing.”
    “Well, we’ll just see about that,” the manager said grimly. “Stay put. I’ll be right back.”
    Oh, crap. She’d hoped to be out of here before he confronted Jared.
    But Turner didn’t go next door. He walked down the hallway in the opposite direction and, as promised, was back in less than five minutes. Producing a pocket knife, he sliced the line from the doorknob. “Will you come out here for a second and hold this?”
    P.J. stepped out into the corridor and took the severed filament from his grasp.
    “Keep applying tension to it,” the manager