Chapter Seven
Worry rode Ethan’s shoulders all the way across town. What if the murdered woman had been Valentine? What if she was the killer’s next target? Thinking of Samantha’s beautiful friend lying dead made his stomach burn. He’d promised to protect her. If something happened, what would he say to Sam?
He was in a dark frame of mind when he climbed out of the Jeep and pushed through the door of the Perfect Pup. What the hell was a pampered woman like Valentine doing at a dog-grooming parlor on the day of her show?
He scoffed. Probably having ribbons tied on the topknot of some little rat dog. Maybe one of those prissy little lassa-assholes, or whatever the hell they were called.
No one was behind the counter in the waiting area, but he could hear feminine laughter coming from the back of the shop. Ethan headed in that direction, his mind on the steps he needed to take once he had Valentine secure.
At the door to one of the shampoo rooms, he spotted Samantha’s mop of nutmeg curls as she shampooed a gigantic white dog. A blond woman stood next to her, both of them up to their elbows in soapy water.
Ethan jolted to a halt as the great beast leaped out of the tub, soap bubbles flying, knocking down the taller woman, who went sprawling on her behind, the wet dog landing on top of her.
She let out a squeal of laughter matched by Samantha’s burst of hilarity. Ethan just stared. Good Christ, it was Valentine Hart.
“Get off me, you big ox!” Valentine gave a fierce shove that didn’t budge the animal at all. Ethan finally managed to collect his wits enough to start forward. Sensing he wasn’t in the mood to be disobeyed, the dog lumbered to his feet and ambled a few steps away.
“Hi, Ethan.” Samantha grinned. “That’s Harry.” Just then the dog gave a mighty shake, sending a barrage of water droplets flying.
Sam and Valentine broke into fresh gales of laughter.
Valentine’s dimples popped out, and Ethan couldn’t stop staring.
Her soggy T-shirt clung to a pair of perfect breasts, but it was the joy in her pretty blue eyes that made his chest feel tight.
He reached a hand down to help her up, and she grabbed hold.
Ethan felt a jolt all the way to the soles of his low-topped boots as he pulled her to her feet.
“Thanks,” she said, smiling.
Ethan couldn’t stop a smile in return. “You’re just full of surprises, Ms. Hart.” His gaze traveled from the messy ponytail on top of her head, all the way down her long, jeans-clad legs, to a pair of worn sneakers.
Behind him, Samantha snapped a leash onto Harry, and the big dog politely sat down.
“I think it’s time I introduced you two,” Sam said.
“Ethan, this is Valerie Hartman. Valentine Hart is her stage name. She’s not really a model.
I mean, she is, but it’s only temporary.
Val’s actually a student at the university.
She came over to help me take care of an injured poodle. She’s studying to be a veterinarian.”
“A veterinarian,” he repeated dumbly, still trying to get his head wrapped around this latest bit of news.
“I tried to tell you,” Samantha said, “but . . .” She shrugged her small shoulders and let the words trail off, and Ethan felt like a fool.
He turned to the pretty blonde. “I think maybe we should start over . . . if that’s all right with you.”
Her pink lips curved. “Okay.”
“I’m Ethan Brodie.” He stuck out a hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Valerie.”
She shook his hand. “Valerie Hartman. A pleasure, Ethan.” Her smile brightened and he felt the kick. “Val works just fine for both my names.”
She must have noticed his gaze drifting down to the wet shirt clinging to her breasts because soft color washed into her cheeks. When she modestly crossed her arms to cover herself, he remembered how he’d thought her name sounded like a stripper’s and felt stupid all over again.
“You . . . umm . . . came here to see me,” she reminded him. “What’s going on?”
The moment of levity was over. He was there to keep her safe. “I guess you haven’t gotten a call from Matthew Carlyle or anyone from La Belle.”
“My cell’s in my purse. Half the time I don’t hear it ring.”
“I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news, Val. Earlier this morning, Delilah Larsen was found dead in her apartment. She was murdered.”
“What?”
“She was killed sometime last night.”
Val swayed, and Ethan gently caught her against him. “Easy. Maybe you’d better sit down.”
“There’s a sofa in the office,” Samantha said, leading them in that direction.
Val didn’t argue when he guided her inside and settled her on the couch. Her face looked so pale, he urged her head down between her knees. “Give yourself a minute. You’ll be fine.”
“I’m okay. I don’t faint. I’m studying to be a doctor.” But she waited a few seconds before she lifted her head.
“I’ll get you some water.” Samantha hurried away and returned a few moments later with a cup.
Ethan handed the cup to Val just as the buzzer above the front door sounded, announcing a customer’s arrival.
“Hold on a minute,” he said. Turning away, he moved quietly off toward the waiting room, pausing out of sight beside the door. A gray-haired woman, clearly no threat, walked in with a tall, long-haired Afghan dog.
Ethan returned to the office. “Go ahead, Sam. Take care of your client.”
Samantha nodded, took off for the waiting room. Val leaned back against the sofa, her face still pale, but some of the color had returned to her cheeks.
She looked up at him. “Delilah and I weren’t really friends, but we worked together. She didn’t deserve to be murdered. How did it happen?”
“She was strangled.”
She swallowed. Her eyes widened as the possibility sank in. “Oh my God, it wasn’t the guy who wrote those notes?”
“We don’t know yet. I’m on my way to her place now. I’ll know more once I take a look at the crime scene.”
“What about the other girls? Are they okay? Oh, God, what about Megan? Meg O’Brien? She got one of those notes.”
“Carlyle’s making sure all the models are covered. He knew I was coming to get you. You need to call him, tell him you’re okay.”
“Let me get my phone.” She hurriedly retrieved it and came back. “Looks like Matt’s been calling.”
“Call him back. Tell him you’re with me. Tell him I’ll be bringing you to the theater for the show.”
“Okay.” She was still shaken up, he could see, trying to process the information. She phoned Carlyle, told him she was safe.
“Ethan Brodie is with me now.”
Carlyle said something on the other end of the phone.
“Yes, of course. I didn’t think you’d cancel. I’ll be there on time.” Val hung up and released a shaky breath.
Ethan pulled out his iPhone. “What’s your cell number?”
She gave him her number and he programmed his phone. “Now input mine.”
She flicked him a glance but punched in his number.
“Are you okay to drive?”
“I’m okay. It was just such a shock.”
“Where do you live?”
“Montlake, over by the university.”
He mentally calculated the best route to take. “I’ll follow you home, then drive you down to the theater later. I gather they aren’t canceling the show.”
“I didn’t think they would. Too much money’s been spent. They’ll put another model in Delilah’s place.” She glanced down, swallowed.
Ethan didn’t reply. He hadn’t thought they’d cancel either. “You ready? I need to get moving.”
Pulling herself together, Val got up from the sofa, stopped on the way out to say good-bye to Sam. Ethan followed her out of the building and walked her to her vehicle, a frisky little red Nissan sports car.
“Nice ride,” he said. When she clicked the locks, he leaned down and pulled open her door.
“Thanks. It was kind of a splurge, but it was worth it.” She slid in behind the wheel. “You don’t have to follow me. I’m okay. Really. I’ll see you down at the theater later.”
“I don’t think you get this, Val. You’re with me until we figure out what’s going on. What’s your address in case we get separated on the road?”
“I really don’t think—”
“I need your address.”
She frowned as she gave him the number of her duplex on East Calhoun. “I have to get ready. I need to—”
“I’ll be right behind you.” Ignoring the unhappy look she cast his way, he walked back to the Jeep and climbed in, reached down, and programmed her address into his GPS.
He’d done everything in his power to avoid the attraction he felt for Valentine Hart—Valerie, he corrected. Now a murder had thrown them together.
As he fell in behind her little red sports car and Val wove her way through the Bellevue traffic, he thought about the woman he had misread so badly. A memory arose of her and Samantha, wet and soapy as they shampooed the big hairy dog. He thought of the dimpled grin on Val’s face.
For the past three years, he’d been nursing his anger, harboring a grudge against women; not just his ex, but women in general.
Watching Samantha—the best thing that had ever happened to Nick, seeing Valerie on her all-important day helping a friend with an injured dog—it was hard to hang on to that anger.
It was past time to let it go and he knew it.
Ethan scrubbed a hand over his face. Since now wasn’t the best time to be examining his life, trying to figure out what it was he really wanted, he needed to focus on his job. He had a theater full of women to protect and a murder to solve.
Which meant he’d have to be even more careful to keep his distance from Valentine Hart.
Val pulled up in front of her garage and opened the door as Ethan parked in front of the duplex, got out of his big black Jeep, and walked toward her.
Why was it he seemed to get better looking every time she saw him? When he smiled, which he didn’t do that often, he was a devastatingly handsome man.
“Wait here,” he said, joining her in the garage. He opened the door into her kitchen and disappeared inside to check things out, returned a few minutes later, and led her into the apartment.