Friends and Lovers Trilogy 03 - Seduced by Beth Ciotta Read Free Book Online Page B

that men were pigs and not to be trusted. Jean-Pierre had taken great exception to her generalization, suggesting she merely needed appropriate time to heal.
    To prove to herself that she wasn’t a sexaholic or one of those women who only felt complete if they were involved in a relationship, she’d resolved to remain celibate until the one-year anniversary of her breakup with Chaz. When a man wined and dined her, the only thing he’d be getting a piece of was her
mind
. She was more than willing to share her thoughts, ideas, and opinions on a wide variety of subjects, but her body was off limits. She was more than just a pretty face, dammit.
    “
You’re even more beautiful in person
.”
    Sweat broke out on Sofia’s forehead as a garbled voice echoed in the recesses of her fuzzy mind. No face. No name. Just a vague recollection.
    She stumbled out of the bathroom on the verge of hyperventilating as scant memories unfolded. “I had an appointment. I flew into Phoenix to meet someone. Someone important.”
    Joe pushed out of his chair and met her halfway across the room. “Who?”
    “I don’t know. I can’t remember.” She grabbed two fistfuls of her wet hair and tugged in frustration. “Why can’t I remember?”
    “Slow down.” He grasped her upper arms and guided her into a chair. “Do you remember packing?”
    “Yes. Yesterday morning. Very early. I remember packing for the weekend. I remember leaving Jean-Pierre a note saying that I’d see him in Vermont.”
    “Did you tell him where you’d be over the weekend?”
    “I told him I’d be at a spa, but I didn’t say where. I told my publicist and Lulu the same thing, but it was a lie. I didn’t want them to know my real plans. It was a secret. Or, I wanted it to be a secret.” She balled her fists in her lap so as not to rip her hair from the roots.
    Joe poured her a cup of tea. “Sugar? Milk?”
    “Black.” She thanked him, cursing her trembling hands as she lifted the cup to her lips.
This isn’t real. This isn’t happening.
She sipped the bland brew, hoping it would calm her stomach. Swear to God she’d never touch another drop of tequila.
    As if knowing her misery, he set a glass of water and the bottle of aspirin within her reach. “Visualize and walk me through yesterday. What were you wearing?”
    “My pale blue linen suit—tailored jacket, mid-thigh skirt. Matching Prada shoes and handbag. I dressed to impress.” She curled her fingernails into her palms, thought hard. “I took a taxi to LAX. I remember flying into Phoenix. I don’t remember details, just fuzzy emotions. I was nervous, but excited.”
    “So you landed at Sky Harbor International sometime yesterday late morning, early afternoon. Then what? Did someone meet you? Did you rent a car? Take a shuttle?”
    “Someone met me. A tall blond in a dark suit. A limo driver. Tom. I remember a lot of traffic. Beautiful houses. Expensive houses. Not so much traffic. I remember driving through a big gate, up a long drive. Nervous. God, I was nervous. Then Tom stopped the limo and the door opened.”
    “The limo door?”
    “No, the house door and … ”
    “Go on.”
    Sofia swallowed as disjointed images blurred and faded. She closed her eyes, shuddering at the Picasso-like figure in her mind’s eye.
    “What do you see?” Joe’s tone was gentle, persuasive. “Talk to me, Sofia.”
    “Pieces of a man. Hands. Shoulders. Feet. I can’t look him in the eyes. He has no face.”
    “That doesn’t make sense.”
    “I
know
.” She pressed the heels of her hands against her twitching eyelids. Her head was two seconds from exploding.
    “Move inside the house. Tell me what you see.”
    Her stomach lurched. “I can’t. I don’t remember anything beyond getting out of the limo and Tom driving away.” Unnerved, she opened her eyes and chased three aspirin with a glass of water. “The next thing I remember is waking up in the shed with the prop gun and … ” She palmed her