“Who the hell is that?” he asked. Before she could answer, she heard her name called a second time, closer than before—the voice unmistakable. She uttered a low curse as Ryder’s alarm changed to incredulity. “Is that Blake Stone?” His eyes zeroed in on the locked door. Liese nodded and pushed on Ryder’s chest, but got nowhere. “We can’t get caught,” she said frantically, spurring him into action. In a rush, she adjusted her underwear and shoved her skirt over her hips, smoothing it down her thighs. Ryder tucked his shirt into his pants and fumbled with his belt. Liese tried to reorganize her desk and pick up the items strewn across the floor. It looked like a bomb had gone off—office supplies littered the carpet like shrapnel. Ryder knelt to help her, gathering random items to deposit on her desk. “Why is he here?” Accusation made his tone sharp. “I was supposed to help with rehearsal at the end of the day. He’s probably checking up on me. I told him I had a meeting with you,”
