“Duck,” he warned in her ear. “In case we encounter press.”

Mystery tried to relax. After all, how could the press possibly have known she’d come here? Mystery hadn’t told anyone other than her father, Heath, and her mother’s sister, Aunt Gail, that she intended to visit the States.

“In this disguise, they won’t recognize me.” After all, Axel hadn’t.

The fact that she’d emerged from a town car and not a limo was a point in the favor of discretion. But having what amounted to a bodyguard curl himself around her would, no doubt, draw attention.

“Hold my hand, just in case.” She put distance between them and shoved her palm against his, interlocking their fingers. “We’ll be less conspicuous if we look like lovers.”

Heath hesitated, then relaxed at her side. “I’m afraid that’s wishful thinking.”

Why? It wasn’t unheard of for a woman in her mid-twenties to date an attractive man pushing forty. Thankfully, she didn’t have to argue her point. He humored her, folding her hand against his own.

They walked from the car and approached the hotel’s entrance without incident. Mystery clutched Heath and released a long breath as they neared the entrance.

As he opened the door to the hotel, a woman her age wearing blingy jeans and an NYU T-shirt sprang to her feet from a plush sofa in the lobby. “Mystery Mullins! Why have you returned to the States after all these years?”

She hadn’t braced herself for press inside the hotel. Stupid and probably naïve. She really didn’t deal with this much in the UK and had forgotten how aggressive some tabloid reporters could be.

“I—”

“No comment,” Heath said beside her, motioning to one of the hotel’s security agents as he hustled her toward the elevator.

He pressed the button to bring the car to the lobby. As they waited, the security guard rushed forward to intercept the young reporter.

The woman protested, shouting across the cavernous interior of the hotel. “Our readers want to know about your sudden visit to the States, Ms. Mullins. I just need five minutes—”

The security guard must have cut her off because Mystery didn’t hear another word from the reporter. Instead, she clutched Heath’s hand, feeling rattled, anxious, and vaguely contrite about everything that had happened today. Maybe she should have bypassed the Dallas portion of her trip and left Axel in peace, simply flown to her aunt’s place and retrieved the effects her mother had left to her on her eighteenth birthday, as she’d been promising to do for years.

“Hurry up . . .” Heath growled at the elevator, willing it to reach the lobby and whisk her away.

Before it did, a young man she hadn’t previously noticed jumped out from behind a tall potted palm with a camera and snapped her picture repeatedly, the flash popping in her eyes.

“Get the devil away.” Heath stiff-armed the man.

“Why are you back in the U.S.?” the photographer demanded, looking over the top of Heath’s head to clap eyes on her.

When he tucked the camera under his arm and held up his phone as if rolling video, she closed her eyes and looked away. “No comment.”

Since the security guard was tied up with the reporter who’d approached her earlier, a female desk clerk bustled over and latched a firm grip around the photographer’s elbow. “You’re harassing our valued guests. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

The photographer shook off the hotel employee and darted past Heath, rolling more video as he got in Mystery’s face. “Are you here to figure out how and why your mother died? Was that the reason for your Tweet last night about looking forward to revisiting some of your mother’s effects?”

“No comment,” she choked.

God, she didn’t need these sleazebags to remind her that the anniversary of her mother’s death fast approached. She thought about it every spring and often sorted through pictures to remember the woman who’d given her life. She should stop Tweeting when she did that shit. She’d meant it more as a memorial than a “look at me.” Of course, these assholes who made a living scamming off people in the public light could care less.

“Is this your secret lover? Is he married? Is that the reason for your disguise?” the photographer demanded. “Did he give you the love bites on your neck? What’s your name?” he shouted at Heath before turning back to Mystery. “Would your father approve of you dating an older man?”

Another employee of the hotel, this one a slight male in an impeccable suit, approached the slouchy photographer and grabbed his arm. The desk clerk grabbed the other.

“We’ve called the police. If you don’t want to be arrested, leave before they arrive. You have less than two minutes.”

That finally got the photographer’s attention. He looked at Mystery, then flipped off the video on his phone, and took off running with a curse.

Mystery released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Why in the hell didn’t these people just leave her alone? She wasn’t an actress or a singer. She’d done nothing to warrant their attention—except be the daughter of one of the most infamous men in Hollywood. She certainly didn’t try to live her life in the public eye. She simply wrote books and worked to forget the past. Was a little peace too much to ask?

“Please allow me to express my deepest apologies,” the man in the suit offered. “We respect the privacy of all our guests and value your—”

“Thank you.” Heath interrupted as the elevator finally dinged its arrival. “Now keep these people away from Ms. Mullins. And bugger off.”

They ran into the elevator, and the hotel’s employee gaped after them as the yawning doors snapped shut, encasing her in silence with Heath. He still didn’t release her hand, but his grip loosened, becoming a gesture of comfort. “Are you all right?”

“Any idea how they found out I’m here?”

“None.” Heath shook his head grimly as they ascended to her suite. “I presume a hotel employee thought to make a quick dollar or a fellow guest recognized you when we checked in yesterday. I wish I knew.”

Mystery wished she did, too.

As the elevator doors opened at the top, Heath urged her out, his arm curled around her protectively, scanning the hallways for other potential threats. Thankfully, the concierge floor was quiet, almost unnervingly so. But she supposed that observation had more to do with her jittery mood and the knowledge she’d soon be alone with her thoughts . . . and her regrets.

If Axel realized that she’d deceived and seduced him, would he ever forgive her? It probably didn’t matter. It wasn’t as if she would ever see or speak to him again. But damn it to hell, she valued his opinion. The last thing she wanted to do was upset him. Yeah, she probably should have thought more about that before she’d lied to worm her way into his bed.

As they reached the door, Mystery fished her card key from the pocket of her jeans. All she wanted now was a long, hot shower and a bite of food before she curled up in bed with a mind-numbing sitcom and drifted off.

“Ring me if you need anything. I’ll just be down the hall,” Heath advised softly.

“I know.” She set gentle fingers on his arm. “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t do more to keep the press away. Vultures.”

“Well, I’m low on the totem pole. Maybe a Kardashian will do something crazy tonight and no one will give a shit about me tomorrow.”

He sent her a wry smile that wished her good luck with that. Yeah, she needed it.

Mystery sighed. “Night.”

“Good night.” He stepped away. “I’ll wait to leave until you’re safely in your room. Unless you’d like me to come in to ensure no one is here waiting to bother you and nothing has been disturbed?”

Heath would. He’d done it more than once during their six years together. But she’d already had a long day. An even longer night stretched out in front of her. She really just wanted to be alone and figure out how, now that she was intimately familiar with Axel’s touch and already ached for more, she could possibly move on and find a future without him.