"She was, but I don't look anything like her. I'm pure McConnell. Through and through. Just ask Daddy." Addy jerked her hand out of Nick's. "We're pleased that you could fly in and share this special night with Dina. Will you be staying here at the house?"
"No," Dina said, her lips puckered in a seductive pout. "I told him there was more than enough room, but he booked into a hotel. Wasn't that naughty of him?"
"You should have stayed here." Addy nodded toward the house. "This place is almost as big as a hotel and there's no one living here right now except Daddy, Dina and Brett."
"Brett Windsor's living here?" Nick asked.
"Brett's considering some local investments. He'll be getting his own place soon." Dina patted Addy on the arm affectionately. "Brett thinks the world of Addy, but she won't give him the least little bit of encouragement."
"Is that right?" Nick tried to keep the sarcastic tone out of his voice. He'd just bet that Brett thought the world of Addy. He thought the world of Rusty McConnell's millions was more like it. Brett Windsor had inherited half of his father's estate and Dina had inherited the other half. That had been fourteen years and two husbands ago. Nick doubted if either one of them had a dime of Ashley Windsor's six-million-dollar legacy.
Dina glanced toward the French doors where the man in question stood. "There's Brett now. I should go and assure him that Nicky isn't a rival, shouldn't I, Addy?"
"By all means." Addy waved at Brett, who flashed her a brilliant smile and waved back at her. "I'll entertain Mr. Romero."
"What?" Dina laughed, fluttering her eyelashes. "Nicky, you behave yourself with Addy. After all, she's my Rusty's only child and he adores her."
"I promise to be on my best behavior." Nick glanced at Addy, wondering what she thought of her father's fiancée.
"I'll hold you to that." Giving Nick a flirtatious smile and Addy an affectionate pat on the arm, Dina sauntered toward her third husband's son.
"Your brother was one of Dina's husbands?" Addy asked.
"Her first husband." Nick realized that this woman didn't like Dina, and her curious green eyes said that she wasn't sure she liked him either.
"Then you've known her for a long time?"
"Since I was fifteen, and I'll be forty-four soon."
"She seems very fond of you."
"She is." Nick noticed the surprised expression on Addy's face. Had she been expecting a denial? "But then, Dina is very fond of a lot of men."
"And, if my father is any indication, a lot of men are fond of Dina."
Nick reached out and took Addy's hand, slipping her arm through his. She didn't resist. Grasping his cane in his other hand, he walked them toward the French doors. "Will Dina be your first stepmother?"
"If Daddy marries her, she will be."
"You don't like Dina?"
"Dina and I have an understanding," Addy said, hesitating before entering the house again. "We tolerate each other. In front of Daddy, we're always cordial."
"If it's any comfort to you, Ms. McConnell, Dina probably won't be a part of your life for more than a few years. As you already know, her track record in the marriage department isn't very good."
"Daddy's crazy in love with Dina, despite her—er—track record."
They stepped inside the house, into the throng of celebrants, into the midst of bright lights and loud music and the hum of hundreds of voices. People filled the downstairs of Rusty McConnell's three-story mansion.
When Addy took several steps away from him, Nick reached out, detaining her by grasping her slender wrist. "If I could dance, I'd ask you for the next one." He almost laughed when he saw the look of surprise on her face.
"Why would you do that?" she asked, a genuinely puzzled look in her eyes.
"Because I'd like to hold you in my arms." Nick knew what women liked to hear, and he'd always had a knack for saying the right thing, for pushing the right buttons. He was adept at using words to achieve his goal, and he usually meant most of what he said. He never blatantly lied to a woman or made promises he didn't keep.
"You're wasting your time flirting with me, Mr. Romero. I'm immune to charming men."
The moment she spoke, he realized that he had indeed meant what he'd said to her. He did want to hold her in his arms. For some odd reason he felt that Addy McConnell needed someone to hold her, to care about her, to protect her. Stupid notion. Why would the heir to a multi-million-dollar aerospace firm need a crippled ex-DEA agent to take care of her? "Some charming man broke your heart?"
"Some charming bastard married me for my daddy's money."
Her smile was as deadly cold as any Nick had ever seen. This woman truly was immune to charm. Did she hate men? he wondered. All men? Or just the charming ones?
"His loss, I'd say."
"Yes, it was," Addy agreed, then walked away from Nick.
He didn't follow, but he watched her. She was tall. At least five ten or eleven in her two-inch heels. Rusty McConnell was Nick's height. Six three.
Addy was slender, but not too skinny. Her shoulders were broad, her waist tiny and her hips well-rounded. She paused by the side of a voluptuous creature in a red sequined dress, whose frosted blond head barely reached Addy's shoulder. Apparently the woman was a close friend. She and Addy were laughing.
Nick noticed how very different the two women were. The blonde was his type—bold and sexy and bosomy. So why did she pale beside Addy? Nick couldn't understand what it was about this redhead that made the blood run hot in his veins. The blood in her veins was probably mixed with ice water. And she didn't have any breasts, at least not enough to fill out the front of her plain little silk dress. She was small but no doubt firm. He guessed that her nipples were a pale coral to match the peachy tint of her creamy gold complexion. He wanted to see those small breasts, those tight little nipples.
Her hair intrigued him, that thick mass of fiery red curls. Nick felt certain that beneath the rather drab exterior a colorful woman existed. The very thought of discovering what treasures lay buried under that plain gray dress suddenly aroused him unbearably.
He noticed Addy turn abruptly toward the center of the room where Dina was tugging on the tail of Rusty McConnell's tuxedo jacket. When Addy took a step away from her friend, Nick moved forward, following her. Suddenly she broke into a run. Nick couldn't keep up, his gait hampered by his limp. People moved back, making room for Addy's mad dash through the crowd.
"Get out of here, Carlton, or I'll throw you out myself!" Rusty bellowed, his deep voice loud over the band music that continued playing.
With Addy on one side and Dina on the other, the two women tried to hold Rusty away from a younger man who had stopped on the dance floor and still held his partner in his arms. The woman was quite young. No more than twenty-five. And very, very pregnant.
Nick moved closer, stepping up beside Brett Windsor who stood directly behind Addy. Windsor was a pretty boy. Tall blond and muscular.
"Daddy, don't do this. Remember your blood pressure." Addy clung to her father's huge arm.
"Listen to her, Rusty darling." Dina clung just as tenaciously to his other arm.
"He wasn't invited," Rusty said. "How the hell did you get in here, Carlton?"
The other man, a good-looking guy in his mid-thirties smiled at Rusty. Nick thought the smile said a lot. It was actually a smirk.
"Lori and I received an invitation. I presented it at the door." The dark-haired young man gave his companion a gentle hug. "I thought perhaps you'd finally decided to let bygones be bygones."
"I didn't issue that invitation and neither did Addy. Do you honestly think that after what you put her through she'd want to see you and … and your pregnant wife?" Rusty yanked free of his women, came up to the other man, towering over him by a good four inches, and punched Mr. Carlton in the chest with the tip of his meaty index finger.
Addy stepped forward, slipping her arm through her father's. "Daddy, don't do this." She turned to the couple. "Gerald, you and Lori
shouldn't have come here. You're not welcome, and whether or not you received an invitation, you weren't invited. Please go."
"I told you we shouldn't have come," Mrs. Carlton said, turning her brown, puppy-dog eyes to her husband beseechingly.
"I guess the McConnells hold a grudge for life," Gerald Carlton said, looking directly at Addy. "You certainly haven't changed, Adeline. Still as plain and understated as ever, and still letting Daddy fight all your battles. Too bad you didn't inherit his strength—and his sexual appetite."
Nick knew Rusty McConnell was going to deck the younger man. Hell, he wanted to hit the sonofabitch and he didn't even know him.
Addy gasped, then grabbed her father. "No, don't. It's what he wants."
Nick stepped forward. He slipped his cane between Gerald Carlton and Rusty McConnell. Both men stared down at the black cane, then up at the man who had dared to interfere.
"Rusty, despite the fact that you're Addy's father and would love to take care of this matter, don't you think it's my place?" Nick turned his cane, positioning the tip in the center of Gerald's chest.
Rusty glared at Nick, obviously dumbfounded by his action. "Why … what—?"
"What do you think you're doing?" Addy whispered, her voice a hiss.
"I'm doing what you've been trying to do," Nick said, low and soft, for her ears only. "I'm trying to stop your father from killing this man."
"Who are you?" Gerald Carlton asked.
"I'm the man who's asking you to step outside," Nick said.
Gerald Carlton studied Nick, taking in every aspect of his appearance. His gaze stopped on Nick's cane, the tip lying against his own chest. "You're not some sort of bodyguard for Rusty. He'd never hire a cripple to protect him, so just who are you?"
"Now see here, Romero—" Rusty said, his voice a snarling growl.
"You're right. I don't work for Rusty." Nick slipped his arm around Addy's waist, pulling her close to him. "This is personal."
Addy's mouth opened in a silent gasp, but Nick had to give her credit. She didn't say a word. She didn't panic. Instead, to his delight, she swayed slightly toward him, resting her body against his.
Gerald laughed, a rather boyish, unmanly laugh. "You can't mean to imply that you and Addy … that—"
"Let's just say that I'm a man who appreciates all the special qualities in Addy that you were apparently too blind to see, let alone appreciate." Nick removed his cane from Gerald's chest, then used it to indicate the foyer. "You have two choices. You and your wife can leave now, or … your wife can take you home after you and I have a little discussion outside."
Gerald laughed again, but the laughter did not reach his eyes. He glanced around the room. Except for the band playing on, the room was deadly quiet. People were gaping, mouths open, eyes wide, waiting. Gerald looked at Nick. Nick smiled. A part of him hoped this clean-cut, sissified Anglo would step outside with him. Nothing would please him more than to show Mr. Carlton that he was one cripple who could easily beat the hell out of him.
"Gerald, let's leave now," his wife pleaded.
"If you're really bedding her," Gerald said, a self-satisfied grin on his face, "then I hope Rusty is paying you enough to make it worth your while."
Rusty lunged for Gerald, but Nick stood firmly in the way. He loosened his hold on Addy, shoving her gently away. Only two people heard the deadly warning Nick uttered, the words vulgar and succinct. Rusty and Gerald stood dead still. Gerald's face turned ashen. He grabbed his wife by the arm and made a hasty exit. Stopping at the double doors leading into the foyer, he gave Nick a nasty look, fear and hatred in his hazel eyes.
Rusty McConnell, big and broad and in superb physical condition for a man well past his prime, slapped Nick on the back, then placed his arm around his shoulder. "Did you mean what you said to him? Would you do it?"
"In a hot minute," Nick said, then glanced over at Addy, who looked rather lost, her face pale, her eyes overly bright as if she might burst into tears at any moment. "I take it that Gerald Carlton is the bastard who married you for your daddy's money?"
"How very astute of you, Mr. Romero." Addy stepped away from the woman in the red sequined dress who appeared to be trying to comfort her.
"Call me Nick." He smiled. She didn't. "After what just happened, everyone is going to assume that we're already on a first-name basis."
"So you should be," Rusty said, giving Nick another strong pat on the back. "I could have handled that pip-squeak Carlton without any help, but I have to admit I like the way you stood up for Addy. You're the kind of man she needs."
"Daddy!"
"Rusty, what a thing to say." Dina reached for Rusty's big hand, squeezing it tightly. "Nick and Addy just met, and I hardly think they're a suitable match."
The crowd began moving about and talking again, several people taking advantage of the dance music, others seeking hors d'oeuvres and champagne. Brett Windsor stepped forward, placing a comforting arm around Addy's waist. Nick had the irrational urge to coldcock Mr. Ivy League. Windsor hadn't kept Addy's father from killing her ex-husband. Windsor hadn't defended Addy when Carlton bad-mouthed her in front of everyone. Windsor hadn't been willing to take the other man outside and teach him some manners.
If anyone should be taking Addy McConnell in his arms, it shouldn't be Brett Windsor. He, Nick Romero, should be the man. But before he could make his way to Addy, to claim her attention, she walked away with Windsor. Rusty still had his big arm draped around Nick's shoulder and Dina had slipped between the two of them, taking each by the arm.
Nick watched while Windsor led Addy out onto the dance floor, took her in his arms and waltzed away with her.
* * *
Addy accepted her wrap and purse from the maid, whom she didn't know. Someone new Dina had hired, no doubt. Since becoming engaged to Rusty, Dina had moved into the mansion and hired several new servants, claiming there wasn't enough staff to adequately care for such a large estate. Of course, Rusty was agreeing to anything Dina wanted these days. No fool like an old fool in love, Addy thought, hating herself for considering her father foolish. But he was. He didn't seem to care about Dina's past, about all her former wealthy husbands.
Stepping outside onto the large veranda, Addy decided the night was too warm to warrant her shawl. She looked around for Alton, her father's chauffeur. She didn't see anyone, not even one of the parking attendants. Maybe they were taking a break. After all, it was barely eleven and most people wouldn't even begin leaving until after midnight. But she'd had just about all of Rusty and Dina's engagement party she could take. The thought of celebrating her father's upcoming nuptials to a woman who'd been married five times and unashamedly used sex to get what she wanted from men didn't sit well with Addy.
What was it with men and sex? she wondered. No matter what their age, they all seemed to have their brains in their pants. Even her father. It really hadn't bothered her so much when she found out that he'd been having an affair with his secretary, Ginger, for nearly eight years or that there had obviously been numerous women during the years since her mother's death. Maybe even before … after Madeline Delacourt McConnell had shut herself in her room … after the delicately beautiful Mrs. McConnell had lost all sense of reality and retreated into a fantasy world of her own. A world that didn't include kidnappers who had murdered her nine-year-old son.
Shaking her head, Addy walked down the steps leading to the circular drive. She wished she had driven her own car here tonight, but her father had insisted on sending Alton. Her father was overprotective where his only child was concerned. He had been ever since Donnie's kidnapping and death when she was six. He didn't like her driving from downtown Huntsville at night alone, even though the trip took less than twenty minutes.
Alton and the others were probably in the kitchen drinking coffee. Or they could be in the garage, where Alton would be showing them Rusty's antique car collection. She decided to wait a few minutes. After all, she wasn't in any hurry to go home, just
in a rush to escape the party.
The party alone would have been bad enough, but three unexpected guests had turned the evening into a real nightmare. Addy suspected that Ginger had mailed Mr. and Mrs. Gerald Carlton an invitation to tonight's shindig. The woman would have done anything to ruin Dina's big night. Ginger probably hadn't even thought of how Gerald's presence would affect other people—namely Addy McConnell. And she hadn't cared how Addy would feel seeing Lori, carrying Gerald's third child. She had tried twice to give Gerald a child. She'd failed miserably both times.
Addy gazed up at the dark sky, at the softly glowing June moon and questioned the powers-that-be as she'd done so many times in the past. Perhaps she'd wanted too much, had dared to ask for more than was her due. After all, she'd been born with a silver spoon in her mouth. Her father was a multimillionaire by the time he was thirty-five. Her mother had been one of the loveliest and wealthiest young debutantes in the state of Alabama. Never once had she wanted for anything money could buy. But, oh, how she had longed for the things in life that were beyond price.
She had longed for a normal mother, one who wasn't under a nurse's care. She had longed to be just one of the kids, not "that rich girl," not Rusty McConnell's only child. She had longed for love and passion. She'd gotten an unfaithful husband who'd married her for her father's money. And she'd longed for a child. She'd lost two babies before her fifth month of pregnancy.
Engrossed in thought, Addy strolled farther and farther down the circular drive, past limo after limo, past several Mercedes, BMWs, Jaguars and Porsches.
Nick Romero had been the other unexpected guest, a man she couldn't even begin to understand. There was something about him that intrigued Addy, and something that frightened her. Suddenly she realized that the very thing that intrigued her was the same thing that frightened her: Nick's sensuality. When he looked at her, it was as if … as if he wanted her. She knew that couldn't be right. Tall, flat-chested, redheaded Addy McConnell wasn't the type of woman who evoked passion in men, and most certainly not a man like Nick Romero—big and dark and devastatingly attractive, a man who made women swoon.
PALADIN'S WOMAN Page 2
