by Lisa Jackson
“Look, Kaylie,” he said, his voice edged with exasperation. “I’m just trying to help you.”
“And I appreciate it,” she replied, though they both knew she was lying, that the question of her independence had been a determining factor in their divorce. “I—I’ll take care of myself, Zane. Thanks for the warning,” she heard herself say, though a part of her screamed that she was crazy to let him go—that she needed him to keep her safe. She extended her hand, palm up. “Now, I think you have something of mine?” When he didn’t move, she prodded him again. “The keys?”
Zane’s eyes darkened to the shade of storm clouds.
Her heart began to pound. He wasn’t giving up. She could see his determination in the set of his jaw.
“How about a deal?” he suggested, not moving.
“Believe me, I’m not in the mood.”
“The keys for a date.”
“For a date? Get real—”
“I am, Kaylie. You go out with me, just for old times’ sake, and I’ll turn the keys over to you.”
“And in the meantime you won’t make an extra set?”
“We’ll go tonight. I won’t have time to do anything so devious.”
Kaylie wasn’t so sure. And she was tempted, far more than she wanted to be. Standing so close to Zane, seeing the shading of his eyes, feeling the raw masculinity that was so uniquely his, she was lured into the prospect of spending some time with him again. There had been a time in her life when he’d been everything. From bodyguard to lover to husband. Her life with him had seemed so natural, so right…until the horrid night when their safe little world was thrown upside down. All because of Lee Johnston.
Kaylie had fallen in love with Zane, trusted him, relied upon him. Now her throat grew dry, and she shook all the happy memories aside. She couldn’t trust herself when she thought of the first magic moments they’d shared—when their love had been new and fresh, before Zane had become so intolerably overprotective and domineering. No. Her dependence on him was long over. Now she was older, and wiser, and on to his tricks. She wouldn’t repeat past mistakes. “I don’t think a date would be such a good idea.”
“Come on, Kaylie, what’ve you got to lose?” he asked, his voice low and disturbingly familiar.
Everything she thought, her palms beginning to sweat.
“You’ve got other plans tonight?” he asked.
“No—”
“No date with Alan?” he mocked, obviously referring to the ridiculous article in The Insider. Her producer had left a copy of the rag on her desk as a joke. She wasn’t engaged to Alan and never would be, but no amount of denial to the press had seemed to change the public’s view that she and Alan, who had once been costars of Obsession and were now cohosts of a popular morning show, were not lovers.
“No date with Alan,” she said dryly.
“Then there’s no reason not to spend a little time with me. Come on,” he insisted, his smile irresistible.
“But—” Why not? It’s just a few hours, a voice inside her head teased. Wouldn’t it be nice to rely on him just a little and find out what he really knows about Lee Johnston? What could it hurt? She looked up at him and swallowed hard. There was a tiny part of her, a feminine part she tried to deny, that loved Zane’s image of power and brooding masculinity, that being around him did make her feel warm inside. But being around Zane was unsafe—her emotions were still much too raw.
“Let’s go. I know a great place in the mountains. You can tell me all about your career as a talk-show hostess and maybe you’ll be able to convince me that you’ll take all the precautions necessary to keep you safe from Johnston.”
“Okay,” she finally agreed, telling herself she wasn’t excited about the prospect of spending time with him. “But I’ll need time to change.”
“I’ll wait,” he said amiably as he walked back to the bar. She watched him pour a drink, as she’d watched him a hundred times before. His shirt was a dark blue. His sleeves were pushed over his forearms to expose dark-skinned muscles that moved fluidly as he handled the bottle and glass. And his hands… She shouldn’t even look at his long, sensual fingers and blunt-cut nails.
She swallowed hard against the memories—erotic memories that she’d hoped she’d forgotten. His gaze found hers in the mirror over the bar, and he smiled a little sexy smile. Her insides quivered.
Turning quickly, before she stared any longer, she headed for the bedroom and told herself that she was a fool, but now that she’d committed herself, somehow she’d get through the evening ahead.
Chapter Two
Zane tried to ignore the disturbing sensations—sensations that were way out of line. Kaylie was his ex-wife for crying out loud, and here he was, pouring himself another drink, feeling like a teenager in the throes of lust. Returning to this house—this cottage by the sea where he and Kaylie had spent hours making love—had probably been a mistake of colossal proportions, but he’d had no choice. Not if he wanted his plan to work. And he did. More than anything.
After the divorce he’d promised himself he’d give her room to grow. When he’d married her she’d been nineteen, and the most beautiful woman he’d ever met. Blond and tanned, slim and coy. Her laugh had been special, her touch divine.
Though he’d fought his attraction to her, he couldn’t resist the wide innocence in her eyes, the genuine smile that curved her lips, her ingenious wit, though it was often used at his expense. His hands tightened around his glass as he remembered the scent of her perfume, the feel of her skin rubbing against his, the wonder of looking down into her eyes as he’d made love to her. And it had all changed the night a maniac had held a knife to her beautiful throat.
Now Kaylie was beautiful but mature, her humor sharper, her sarcasm biting. Yet he still wanted her—more than a man with any sense should want a woman.
And now her life was threatened.
Paralyzing fear gripped him. Living without her had been hell. He’d just have to convince her that they belonged together. Hearing the bedroom door open, he turned, and his throat went desert dry.
She was dressed in a white off-the-shoulder dress, her blond curls swept away from one side of her face, her eyes glinting with a gloriously seductive green light. “Okay, cowboy, this is your ride. Where’re we going?”
The line was from one of her movies—she’d said it to him as well, late at night, when they had been alone in bed. Had she remembered? Undoubtedly. Zane’s diaphragm pressed hard against his lungs. “It’s a surprise.”
She tilted her head at an angle. “Well, it had better be a short surprise. I have to get up at five tomorrow to tape the show.”
“I’ll have you back by ten,” he lied, pretending ease as he snagged his scuffed jacket off the back of the couch and walked with her to the front door.
He reached for the knob, but she laid a hand across his. “This is all on the up and up, isn’t it? One dinner and then you’ll hand over the keys?”
His gut twisted. “That was the bargain.”
“Then I’ll trust you,” she said, the corners of her beautiful mouth relaxing.
He felt a twinge of guilt at deceiving her, but shrugged it off as he opened the door and she swept outside ahead of him. He’d played by her rules long enough. Now it was time she played by his.
* * *
Kaylie was nervous as a cat when, as they walked outside, she discovered a large brown and black shepherd lying on the porch. “Who are you?”
“Man’s best friend. Right, Franklin?” Zane said, whistling as he opened the back door of the Jeep and the dog leaped inside.
“You bring him on all your dates?” she teased.
He flicked her an interested glance. “My chaperone,” he drawled. “Just to keep you in line.”
“Me?” she replied, but grinned as she slid into the passenger side. Maybe this date wouldn’t turn out to be the disaster she’d predicted.
Casting a glance in his direction as he climbed behind the
wheel, she realized that he would never change. He’d always be strong, arrogant, determined, stubborn and self-righteous. But funny, she reminded herself. He had been blessed with a sense of humor.
Still, she was uneasy. She’d seen his mouth turn down when she’d quoted one of his favorite lines from an old movie. She’d done it on purpose, to check his reaction. He’d tried to hide his surprise, but she’d noticed the ghost of change in his eyes.
So why hadn’t she refused to get into the Jeep with him?
Kaylie cast her eyes about, not wanting to confront her actions. A part of her was still intrigued with him. And she’d been lonely in the past seven years. She’d missed him far more than she’d ever admit. Yes, she couldn’t handle the way he’d overreacted and tried to treat her like some fragile possession, but she’d missed his smile. She recalled it now with bittersweet poignancy, how that lazy slash of white would gleam against a darkened jaw as she’d awakened in his arms.
Her heart pounded at the memory, and she silently cursed herself for being a nostalgic idiot. So she missed his sexy looks, his playful grin, his presence in her house.
He headed east, leaving the sun to cast a few dying rays over the darkening waters of the Pacific. The sky had turned a dusky shade of lavender, reflected in the restless sea.
Zane drove without saying much, but she could sense him watching her, smell the clean earthy scent of his aftershave. She’d been crazy to agree to this, she decided. She was much too aware of him.
“Why did we leave the city?” she asked, to break the awkward silence stretching between them.
“Because I discovered a place you’ll like.”
“In Kansas?”
His sensual lips twitched. “Not quite.”
“So let me get this straight. You thought, ‘Gee, Lee Johnston’s about to be released from the hospital—this would be a great time to break into Kaylie’s house and take her to dinner in some restaurant in Timbuktu.’”
He grinned. “You’re astounding, Kaylie. The way you read me like a book,” he said sarcastically. “You know, that’s exactly what I thought!”
She rolled her eyes and held her tongue for the rest of the journey.
Two hours later, Kaylie’s stomach rumbled as she stepped out of his Jeep and eyed the restaurant he’d chosen. She’d expected him to take her to one of their old haunts along the waterfront in Carmel where they could eat seafood and laugh, drink a little wine and remember the good times—the few carefree times they’d shared as man and wife. When he’d mentioned the mountains, her interest had been piqued.
This place, this ivy-covered, two-storied house that looked as if it had been built before the turn of the century, wasn’t like Zane at all. Mystified, she walked up the worn steps to a wide plank porch. A few rockers moved with the wind, and leaves in the surrounding maple and ash trees rustled as they turned with the breeze. Quaint, she thought. And so unlike Zane.
She eyed him from beneath her lashes, but his strong features seemed relaxed, his face handsome and rakish, one thatch of dark hair falling over his eyes. He shoved the wayward lock from his forehead, but it fell back again, making him look less than perfect and all the more wonderful.
Get a grip, she reminded herself as they walked into the old house and Zane tied Franklin to a tree near the entrance.
“You sure he won’t scare the guests?” Kaylie asked.
“This ol’ boy? No way,” Zane said, rubbing the dog behind his ears.
Inside, a mâitre d’ escorted them to a small table in what once had been the parlor.
Zane ordered wine for them both, then after a waiter had poured them each a glass of claret, Zane touched his glass to hers. “To old times,” he said.
“And independence,” she replied.
They dined on fresh oysters, grilled scallops, vegetables and crusty warm bread. Zane’s features seemed sharper in the candlelight, his eyes a warmer shade of gray as he poured the last of the bottle into their glasses, then ordered another.
Conversation was difficult. Kaylie talked of work at the station; Zane listened, never contributing. As if in unspoken agreement, they didn’t discuss Lee Johnston.
“So where’d you get the dog?” she asked as he topped off her glass. She was beginning to relax as the wine seeped into her blood.
“He used to work for the police.”
“What happened—they fire him?”
“He retired.”
Kaylie stifled a yawn and tried not to notice the play of candlelight in his hair. “And you ended up with him.”
Zane shrugged. “We get along.”
“Better than we did?” she asked, leaning back in her chair and sipping from her glass.
“Much.”
“He must do just as you say.”
Zane’s teeth flashed in the soft light. “That’s about the size of it.”
Kaylie was caught up in the romantic mood of the old house with its wainscoted walls and flickering sconces. A fire glowed in the grate and no one else was seated in the small room, though there were four other tables near the windows.
“How’d you arrange this?” she asked, finishing her second—or was it her third?—glass of wine. Pinpoints of light reflected against the crystal.
“Arrange what?”
She motioned to the empty room. “The privacy.”
“Oh, connections,” he said offhandedly, and she was reminded again of how powerful he’d become as his security business had taken off and his clientele had expanded to the rich and famous. He’d opened an office that catered to Beverly Hills, another to Hollywood, as well as San Francisco, Portland, Seattle and on and on. In seven years his business had prospered, as if he’d thrown himself body and soul into the company after their divorce.
He refilled her glass. “I thought we should be alone.” “What? No bodyguards? No private investigators?” she teased, then regretted her sarcasm when his eyes darkened.
“I think we should declare a truce.”
“Is that possible for divorced people?” she asked, and watched as he twisted his wineglass in his fingers.
“Mature divorced people.”
“Oh, well, we’re that, aren’t we? And I guess you’re bodyguard enough, right?” She sipped the wine and felt a languid sleepiness run through her blood. Maybe she should slow down on the claret. It was just that she was so nervous around him. Her muscles relaxed, and she slumped lower in her chair, eyeing him over the rim of her glass. He was so handsome, so erotically male, so…dangerous to be around.
The waiter cleared their plates and brought coffee. He offered dessert, but both Zane and Kaylie declined.
“Well,” she said as Zane reached into his wallet for his credit card, “don’t forget the keys.”
“The what?”
“Your end of the bargain. The keys to my house.”
“Oh, right.” He dropped his credit card on the tray, then reached into his pocket and withdrew a key ring from which he extracted two keys. He slid them across the table. “There you go. Front door and garage.”
She could hardly believe it as she plopped the keys into her wallet. “No strings attached?”
Something flickered in his eyes, but quickly disappeared. “No strings.”
Kaylie felt a twinge of remorse for thinking so little of him. Why couldn’t she open her heart and trust him—just a little? Because she couldn’t trust herself around him, she thought with realistic fatalism.
They walked outside and into a balmy night. The sky had darkened, and jewel-like stars winked high over the mountains. Zane opened the Jeep door for Kaylie, and Franklin hopped onto the passenger seat, growling as Zane ordered him into the back.
“You’re in his space,” Zane explained. The dog jumped nimbly into the back seat, but his dark eyes followed Kaylie’s every move as she climbed inside.
“I don’t know if that’s so safe.”
“He’s fine. He likes you.”
“Oh, right.”
; Once back on the road, Zane switched on the radio, and the soft music, coupled with the drone of the engine and the security of being with Zane again made Kaylie feel a contentment she hadn’t experienced in years.
Drowsy from the wine, she leaned her head against the window and glimpsed his profile through the sweep of her curling, dark lashes. His hair brushed his collar, his eyes squinted into the darkness as he drove, staring through the windshield.
The road serpentined through dark forests of pine. Every once in a while the trees receded enough to allow a low-hanging moon to splash a silvery glow over the mountainside.
Kaylie leaned back against the leather seat and closed her eyes. The notes of a familiar song, popular during the short span of their marriage, drifted through the speaker. She punched a button on the radio and classical music filled the interior of the Jeep. That was better. No memories here. She’d just let the music carry her away. Her muscles relaxed, and she sighed heavily, not intending to doze off.
But she did. On a cloud of wine and warmth she drifted out of consciousness.
* * *
Furtively, his palms sweating, Zane watched her from the corner of his eye. He noticed that her jaw and arms slackened and her breasts rose and fell in even, deep breaths.
Ten minutes passed. She didn’t stir. It’s now or never, he thought as he approached the intersection. Turning off the main road and heading into the mountains, he guided the car eastward.
There was a chance she’d end up hating him for his deception and high-handedness, but it was a chance he had to take. He frowned into the darkness, his eyes on the two-lane highway that cut through the dark stands of pine and redwood. Don’t wake up, he thought as the seconds ticked by and the miles passed much too slowly.
It took nearly an hour to reach the old logging road, but he slowed, rounded a sharp corner and shifted down. From here on in, the lane—barely more than two dirt ruts with a spray of gravel—was rough. It angled up the mountain in sharp switchbacks.
He drove slowly, but not slowly enough. Before he’d gone two miles, Kaylie stirred.
