by Cassie Miles
As the prince and his companions departed with their uniformed chauffeur, the Quantum employees left behind heaved a collective sigh of relief. This impromptu reception had not been on their agendas.
“Thank you, everyone,” Natalie said. “We’ll have more information on the prince’s visit tomorrow. Be prepared for some extra meetings.”
Jerome Harris, head of Accounting, popped up beside her. He was a rabbity little man who would’ve been irritating if his fussy attention to detail had not saved Quantum hundreds of thousands of dollars.
“Pencil me in for tomorrow, Natalie. I have details you’ll need for the Washington trip.”
“New information?” His prior briefings had seemed utterly complete.
Jerome nodded three times in rapid succession. “I’ve been talking with Quint Crawford. He pointed out a contract clause I might have overlooked in my accounting review.”
Not only was it hard to believe that fidgety little Jerome had allowed any detail to escape his scrutiny, but she was surprised to hear that Quint had been so cleverly precise. “Really?”
“Tomorrow,” he repeated. “Gotta go. I’m late.”
As Jerome bustled toward the exit, Natalie was reminded of the white rabbit from Alice in Wonderland, running off with his pocket watch and mumbling about being late for a very important date. No such image occurred when she saw Quint sauntering toward her.
“Miss Natalie,” he said, ignoring her instruction to call her only Natalie, “I hate to trouble you, but I have one more request for today.”
Now what? “Yes?”
“I’d like to stretch my legs a bit,” he drawled. “May I walk you home?”
Suspiciously, she asked, “How do you know I live close enough to walk?”
“Your daddy might have mentioned your address.”
She glanced across the room toward Henry, a man she hadn’t called “daddy” since she was a very little girl. It seemed he was pushing her toward Quint who was—apparently—an eligible bachelor. Never mind that he was definitely not her type. Never mind that he was still grieving the loss of his wife. Her “daddy” wanted them to spend time together. “Dear daddy” was doing a lot of pushing lately.
Natalie dug in her heels. She’d spent most of her day with Quint. An after-work assignment was too much. “Sorry, but I planned to stop off at the gym.”
“That’s fine by me,” he said. “I’d enjoy a workout myself.”
An amused grin tugged at the corner of her mouth as she visualized Quint wearing his Stetson, cowboy boots…and jogging shorts. “You work out?”
He flexed his biceps and leaned toward her. “Feel that.”
Oh, good grief! Did he have to be so consistently embarrassing? “I’d rather not.”
“Go ahead,” he urged. “I’m in shape.”
“Well, I’m sure you are.”
Maria Luisa sidled up to him. “I’ll feel it.”
Her long slender fingers reached up to curl around his upper arm, and she exhaled a soft moan. “Very hard.”
“Thank you, Mary Lou,” Quint said.
She purred, “Any other muscles you want me to touch? Maybe your glutes?”
Quint peeked over his shoulder at his buttocks. “Sorry to say, I’ve never had a whole lot of muscle mass back there. My rump gets worn down from too much time in the saddle.”
“Looks fine to me,” Maria Luisa said.
On the verge of a snarl, Natalie looked down her nose at this blatant display of innuendo. Coolly, she suggested, “Perhaps, Quint, you could make sure Maria Luisa gets home safely.”
“Though I’d be much obliged to spend more time with Mary Lou, I’m real interested in taking a gander at your condominium.” He slapped his Stetson on his head. “Let’s head out, Miss Natalie.”
“Yee-haw,” she muttered, as he herded her toward the elevator.
AFTER DECIDING it was really too late for the gym, she insisted they stop at her office so she could change into comfortable sneakers for the mile-and-a-half walk home. As she sank into the chair behind her desk and changed shoes, Natalie eyed the new stack of memos, clippings and invoices in her in box. Losing an afternoon of work meant she needed to come in early tomorrow, especially since she’d be out of town next week with the Washington trip. Her stomach twanged again, and she winced.
“Are you okay?” Quint asked. “Maybe we should catch a cab.”
“A walk sounds good,” she said. A stroll through the night air might clear her head and settle her persistent ache of uneasiness.
Though she hit the sidewalk at a brisk pace, she found herself slowing down to match Quint’s ambling stride, easygoing as a tumbleweed. Only his eyes were busy, constantly scanning the steady traffic along Michigan Avenue, darting upward toward the soaring outlines of buildings and glittering lights.
At Lake Shore Drive, he stared out across Lake Michigan, a rippling reflection of the skyline. Then he peered straight up. “You never see many real stars in a city,” he said. “It’s like the skyscrapers swallowed them up.”
The wind across the water ruffled her hair and cooled her cheeks as she stared at the familiar outline of her hometown. “I love city nights. There’s an excitement you don’t find anywhere else. An energy. A buzz. It’s invigorating.”
“Do you like the nightlife?”
“Not really. I’m not a very social person.”
“Too busy with work,” he stated, as if it were a fact.
She frowned at the implied criticism. All too often her family and friends urged her to take more vacations and spend more time enjoying herself, as though it were fun to stagger through pointless conversations with strangers. She resumed her pace.
“I like my work.”
“Hell, Natalie, I understand. Back home, I’m a kind of workaholic myself. There’re always a million chores to do on a ranch. I like to keep moving.”
She gave a perfunctory nod, unable to accept that she and Quint had anything in common. “I’ll bet you’re a real dynamo.”
“The way I figure, you got to keep dodging back and forth. Up and down.” He came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the sidewalk, causing the few other pedestrians to detour around him. “When you stand still, all the things you’ve been holding back catch up with you.”
Natalie came back toward him. “Like what? What kind of things catch up?”
“The doubts about jobs you could have done better. Regrets about bad decisions. Angry thoughts and petty frustrations. I think you know what I mean.”
She knew exactly. In quiet moments, emotions spilled around her in an unassuaged flood. Regret. Frustration. Loneliness. “It’s not easy to be alone.”
Gently, he clasped her hand and gave a light squeeze. “If you need a friend, I’m here.”
As if she’d confide in someone she’d only met a few hours ago.
She tried to pull back her hand, but he held fast until she looked up at him. The reflected glow of the city emphasized the chiseled line of his features. “I mean it,” he said. “You can talk to me.”
A knot of tension inside her belly loosened. His simple sincerity touched her. Her guard dropped, and she said, “You actually want to be my friend.”
“Is that so hard to believe?”
Most men would’ve taken this opportunity to tell her she was special and they wanted to get her into bed. Quint had no discernible ulterior motive.
For a moment, she rested in his gaze, enjoying an unusual feeling of safety. With Quint, there was nothing to prove, no need to play a role or to compete. He was, unapologetically, himself.
“Okay,” she said, “we’re pals.”
When they resumed their stroll, a pleasurable silence descended over them. She felt free to indulge her thoughts. “About these threatening notes I’ve been getting,” she said. “Should I really be worried?”
“I take any threat seriously.”
“Henry wants to put a security camera in my office. I told him no.” She pointed a
cross the street. “That’s my building.”
Quint looked up at the eighteen-story apartment building—an impressive postmodern structure with sleek black marble facade and gold-tinted windows. He gave a low, appreciative whistle. “Mighty nice.”
She thought so, too. “Thank you.”
He took her elbow to escort her across the street. “You know, Natalie, a camera in your office might be a healthy precaution, at least until the person who’s threatening you is caught.”
“Possibly. I truly resent the need for extra security, but I don’t want to be foolish.” She paused outside the entryway. “Would you like to come up?”
“You bet.”
By the time she had unlocked the glass front door, the doorman was already holding the second door for her. As always, there were two men on duty in the front lobby: a doorman and an armed security guard, who sat behind a bank of monitors that displayed minute-to-minute video from each floor and the parking garage.
She introduced both of them to Quint, and waited while he asked about their jobs. What kind of handgun did the guard carry? How many other entrances were there to this building? Did they have a panic button to alert police to any disturbance? Quint seemed honestly impressed to hear that there had been only two robberies in the sixty-year history of these Gold Coast condominiums. His conversation with the doorman and the guard was longer than a month’s worth of Natalie’s interaction with them.
On the elevator ride up to the eleventh floor, she said, “You’re one of those people who’s never met a stranger.”
“Sure have, but they don’t stay strange for long.” He glanced down at her. “It’s a Texas thing. Partly, I’m being friendly. And partly, I’m curious. I guess life’s different in the city.”
Of course, it was. From the time she was young, Natalie had learned to walk fast, avoid eye contact and be wary of people who struck up unnecessary conversations. Despite Quint’s ingenuous attitude, she was certain he knew the difference between city and country. In the Art Institute, he’d betrayed a level of sophistication. She knew from his background that he’d traveled the world and wasn’t a simple, rustic cowboy.
It occurred to her that he was playing a role, exaggerating his Texan background. At the same time, he showed flashes of sterling honesty. She had no doubt that his conversation with the doorman and the security guard were motivated by sincere interest in their jobs. But why? Why should Quint care what kind of gun the security guard carried?
While Natalie unlocked her apartment door and dead bolt, he spotted the security camera down the hall and gave a wave to the guys downstairs. Quint was down-home and friendly. But he was also more complex than she’d previously thought. Did he have something to hide? Why did he insist on being with her all day long?
Entering her apartment, she flicked on the track lighting. The full-length windows displayed a panoramic view of Lake Michigan and a partial glimpse of the city lights, including the towering Hancock Building. She seldom bothered to close the curtains. At this altitude, no one could peek inside.
Quint walked directly to the windows and stood utterly still. Only his eyes moved as he scanned from north to south and back again. Against the night sky, his outline defined masculinity with broad shoulders, lean torso and long legs. There was absolutely nothing wrong with his gluteus maximus.
“What are you looking for?” she asked.
“Answers.”
“What are the questions?”
“Here’s one question, Natalie. How does a pretty, smart, courageous woman like you end up living alone?”
“None of your business,” she snapped.
“I’m serious.” He came toward her, one slow step at a time. “This isn’t a line or a come-on. I’m curious. Have you ever been in love?”
“A couple of times.” Defiantly, she stood her ground. “But this really isn’t any of your—”
“Never been married?”
“No.”
He was so close that she could see the startling blue of his deep-set eyes, a sharp contrast to the sun-burnished tan of his complexion. She could feel the warmth of his body, the energy radiating from him. And she was pulled toward him against her will, drawn magnetically. For a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her.
She ought to object. She ought to break away before she did something she would surely regret. But Natalie was paralyzed.
“Here’s my opinion,” Quint said. “You’ve never really been in love, Miss Natalie. If you had been, you’d have gone after that man with every resource you possess until he was yours forever. And—in my opinion—he’d be one lucky son of a gun.”
She had no idea how to react to his blunt assessment, but she knew that she wanted this moment to continue. She wanted Quint to stay here until she could figure him out. “Would you care for a nightcap?”
“No, thanks. I should get home to bed.” He turned on his heel and strode toward the door. “I’d advise you to keep those curtains closed until the security men at Quantum figure out who’s sending you those threats. Good night, Natalie.”
As he closed the door behind himself, she exhaled a breath she hadn’t been aware of holding. A riptide of confused emotions swirled around her. Damn him for leaving. But she wanted him gone. All day long he’d been an anchor around her neck.
She sank into a chair, glad that he’d left and praying that he’d come back. As if life weren’t already complicated enough, she had to accept the inescapable fact that she was attracted to a Texas cowboy.
AFTER WALKING TWO BLOCKS on the street outside her apartment, Quint sensed that he was being tailed by experts who knew better than to have someone merely slog along in his footsteps. He suspected more than one person was involved in this surveillance. There were relatively few people on the street. Some kept walking past him when he slowed. Others paused at the curb and waited when he glanced back over his shoulder. But he could feel their eyes on his back as he made his way to the Loop hotel, where he had been staying since his arrival in Chicago.
He took the cell phone from his pocket and contacted the Confidential offices to inform them that he had left Natalie at her condo. He was assured that there would be other surveillance outside her building for the night.
Now that Quint had his assignment to bodyguard Natalie, he would have to find a location closer to her—possibly in her building, preferably in her condo. He wasn’t sure how he’d manage that move. She wasn’t the kind of woman who indulged in casual affairs. And he wasn’t the kind of man who took advantage of his work to stage a seduction.
He smiled to himself. Seducing Natalie was a very pleasant idea.
Walking home with her and checking out the security in her apartment building had put his mind somewhat at ease. All things considered, she was safe in her high-rise condo. A beautiful place with a spectacular view. Though he didn’t know much about interior decorating, Quint guessed that somebody professional had arranged the glass-topped dining room table and conversation area in front of the fireplace. All the colors harmonized except for a stuffed parrot on a fake perch in the corner and a colorful painting that looked like a real Chagall. The classy modern decor reminded him of Natalie herself—perfectly polished with hints of humor and passion beneath the surface. He liked this woman. Her ambition and directness made her edgy and interesting. Plus, she was damn fine to look at. Those haunting green eyes…
He turned abruptly and doubled back, passing a man in a suit who stood at the curb and a scruffy-looking teenager who reminded him of the same guy who’d been at the Art Institute this afternoon.
Surreptitiously, Quint tried to memorize their features. If he was going to find out who was following him, he’d have to stop somewhere and wait for them to catch up. He couldn’t approach them, couldn’t make a grab and start asking questions. For now, it was better to back off and maintain his cover as a lonely cowpoke who didn’t suspect a thing.
At the hotel, he paused in the lobby, hoping to keep an eye on peop
le coming through the revolving door. He wanted to see who had been following him. He needed to recognize the face of impending danger.
His attention was immediately distracted by the approach of Gordon Doeller, who waved too energetically as he came across the lobby with the unsteady gait of a man who’d had one drink too many. The angles of his body seemed all disjointed.
“Quint Crawford!” Gordon hailed him. “What a coincidence!”
“Sure enough is,” Quint drawled. He didn’t believe in coincidence; Gordon had set up this meeting. “What are you doing here, Gordon?”
“I came over here to check on Prince Zahir. He’s staying at this hotel, you know. In the penthouse suite. Man, these guys know how to live.”
“Have you worked with Zahir before?”
“Nope, but I’ve spent my fair share of time in the Middle East. We got to keep our relations good, you know. Keep the oil supply flowing.”
Though it was hard to believe that Gordon was any sort of terrorist mastermind, Quint recalled Javid’s allegations that someone at Quantum had been secretly buying oil from Imad. Such transactions could have been arranged through Gordon Doeller’s marketing office.
In any case, it was worth Quint’s time to probe Gordon’s alcohol-soaked brain. “How about a drink? Are you in any rush to get home?”
“No rush.” His laughter was bitter. “The wife divorced me six months ago.”
“Sorry,” Quint said.
“Don’t be. She’s a bloodsucker. Took the house. Took the good car and left me with the SUV. And she wants more.”
Gordon was a man in need of ready cash, someone who might be seduced by the promise of easy money. Quint guided Gordon to a table in the bar where he ordered a martini. Quint asked for a beer.
“Tell me about your time in the Middle East,” Quint said.
“Come off it, cowboy. I know you’ve been all over the world.”
“Sure have,” Quint said. “But I’m mostly just a tourist. Not a businessman like you.”
“Or Natalie?” Gordon’s eyebrows lifted. “You’ve been sticking pretty close to her.”
