"Addy?" Even to his own ears his voice sounded rough and hard.
She jumped, startled by his invasion. With her green eyes glaring and her pink mouth opening to a perfect oval, she stared at him. He noticed that her hand, holding the wineglass, trembled ever so slightly.
"Sorry if I frightened you." He walked through the doorway and into the kitchen. "I heard you come downstairs and wanted to make sure you were all right."
"I'm fine." She set the glass on the counter. "I'm sorry if I disturbed your sleep."
"I wasn't asleep." He eyed the wine bottle. "I'm your bodyguard, remember? I don't sleep unless you do." He nodded toward the sauvignon blanc. "Pour me a glass, too, if you think it'll help us both get a good night's rest."
She looked at him with pleading eyes. "Couldn't you leave me alone? I'm not used to having someone else around, watching me, monitoring my every move."
"It can't be helped, so we'd both better try to make the best of it." Moving slowly, Nick stopped just short of touching her. His gaze traveled over her, from fiery hair to bare feet. "What did you do with your shoes?"
"I tossed them in the chair." She nodded toward her slippers. "There." Addy wished he would stop looking at her. He made her nervous staring at her as if he could see straight through her gown. But then, maybe he could. She wasn't accustomed to men seeing her in her underwear or her sleepwear, so she indulged herself in her passion for sexy, frilly and very feminine attire that she alone would see. But Nick could see her. All of her, here in the kitchen light.
She could feel a delicious warmth spreading through her, casting a delicate pink hue to her naturally golden complexion. This man had a strange effect on her, creating a desire in her to experiment with the danger she knew he offered. Nick Romero would be an exciting, demanding lover. Something she'd never known. But she was a failure at intimacy, unable to respond properly, incapable of achieving fulfillment. She didn't dare risk the utter humiliation she'd feel if she disappointed Nick. She'd been devastated by Gerald's frustration over her inadequacies, and Gerald was certainly no match for a man like Nick, a man whose every look, word and move reeked of sensuality.
Nick caressed the neck of the wine bottle absentmindedly, wishing it was Addy's soft throat. Retrieving a glass from the row of crystal goblets inside the open cupboard, he poured the clear golden liquid.
Addy watched the way his big hand moved over the wine bottle and the crystal glass. She could almost feel his touch on her. Instantly her nipples hardened.
Taking a sip of the chilled dry wine, Nick looked up at Addy, his dark eyes conveying a message of desire. She tried to look away from him, but his gaze held her spellbound. When he glanced down at her breasts, she sucked in a deep breath, willing herself not to sway toward him.
"Why don't we take our wine into the den," he said. "We'll be more comfortable in there, and we can talk."
For a split second she thought he was going to touch her. She was half afraid he would and half afraid he wouldn't. "I … I don't want to talk. I just want to be left alone."
"But I can't leave you alone. You know that. It's my job to guard you against danger twenty-four hours a day." He could see that she was on the verge of angry tears. He suspected that she was as upset over her reaction to him as she was over the turmoil in her life. She was a woman who seemed to pride herself on her independence and self-control, and here he was undermining both. As long as the threat of a kidnapping hung over her head, Addy would require his presence as a bodyguard. And, as long as the two of them were together, sparks were going to fly and both of them were at the mercy of their own baser instincts. He didn't doubt for a minute that Addy wanted him as much as he wanted her. He could see it in her eyes, feel it in her body's response to him.
"Nick, please … don't—"
"Don't what, Red? I haven't done anything."
Did he honestly think he had done nothing? Addy wondered. Surely a man as experienced as Nick Romero knew only too well what effect he was having on her. Circumstances might have forced her to accept his presence in her home. Her life could be in danger, and she knew her father's health and peace of mind were at risk. If only the man her father had chosen as her bodyguard was anyone else on earth beside this devastatingly handsome man with the power to awaken her long dormant sexual longings.
"Come on, Red, let's have a midnight powwow. We'll swap old war stories." He placed his hand on the small of her back, opening his palm to cover a wide expanse of her silk-clad body. She tensed immediately. "Relax." He gave her a slight nudge. "This has been a hell of a day for you. You don't really want to be alone. You want to talk and yell and scream and maybe even cry."
"You think you're so damned smart, don't you?" Addy walked away from him, removing herself from his warm, caressing hand. "For your information, Mr. Romero, I seldom cry. I used up a lifetime supply of tears years ago."
He followed her into the den, not replying to her comment. Somewhere behind the security wall she'd built around herself, Addy's deepest emotions still existed, waiting to be released. Nick wanted to be the man to penetrate that wall, to tear it down—brick by brick if necessary. He wanted to be the man to bring those buried feelings back to life.
Entering the dark den, Addy turned on a small brass table lamp decorated with china roses and covered with a parchment shade. A warm, mellow glow filled the room, revealing pale eggshell walls and an orderly clutter of antiques, from a painted Pennsylvania German chest to a Queen Anne curly maple chair.
Addy sat down on the old sofa which was covered with a paisley throw and held a variety of crewel, cross-stitch and needlepoint pillows. She clutched the crystal goblet in her unsteady hand, her eyes focusing on the liquid shifting back and forth. Bringing the glass to her lips, she sipped the wine slowly, trying to ignore Nick Romero when he entered her cozy, private hideaway. She'd been forced to share several hours with him before bedtime, all the while wishing she were alone. She'd been able to handle both Nick and her own emotions earlier, but now she felt vulnerable, less able to protect herself.
Nick walked across the wooden floor, barely noticing the throw rugs he stepped on as he made his way toward Addy. She sat on the small sofa. There was room for him, but he could tell by her stiffly arched back, her tilted chin and her cool manner that she would prefer he didn't join her. He sat down in a sturdy flowered wingback chair to the left of the sofa, a large round end table separating them.
He watched her. He'd seen people who tried to keep everything bottled up inside. Sooner or later they exploded like a time bomb. Addy needed to release some of her pent-up emotions.
"Do you think Gerald Carlton could be behind the kidnapping attempt?" Nick asked, pleased when Addy glared at him with fiery green eyes. "Is he capable of murder?"
Taking another sip of her wine, Addy closed her eyes, knowing that images of her life with her former husband would flash through her mind. How many times, she wondered, had Gerald made her feel worthless as a woman? How many nights had she waited for him to come home from some other woman's bed? How many times had he accused her of being unattractive and frigid? But was he capable of murder?
"Gerald is capable of almost anything if there's enough money in it for him." She set her wineglass down on the end table and turned to Nick. "Could he kill for money? I don't know. Possibly. Probably."
"He really did a number on you, didn't he, Red?"
"I would prefer not to talk about my marriage."
"You prefer letting all that pain fester inside you like an infected wound? That's a mistake."
"What would you have me do? Pour out my heart and soul to you so that you can comfort me? Is your male ego so enormous that you think you have to prove to me how wrong my ex-husband was about me? Is that what this is all about? You want to prove that you're man enough to make the ugly, frigid, little rich girl enjoy sex for the first time in her life?"
Nick hadn't expected such a vehement reaction. Obviously, he'd struck a nerve, a sexual nerve. He took
a generous sip from his own wineglass, then set it beside Addy's on the table. "Did you love Carlton when you married him?" Nick wasn't sure why he wanted her answer to be negative. What difference did it make if Addy had loved her ex-husband? It was apparent she despised the man now.
"What?" Dammit! How could she have allowed herself to lose control the way she had? She hadn't meant to blurt out such personal information, but Nick had angered her. Somehow this man she'd known for a little over twenty-four hours had a way of provoking her strongest emotions. Her first impression of him had been right. He was a dangerous man.
"Did you love Carlton?"
"I think so. It was no grand passion or anything like that. I was twenty-five and I'd lived a fairly sheltered life. Men weren't exactly beating a path to my door. Gerald was charming and attentive and—and Daddy liked him."
"But you weren't in love with him?"
"I have no idea what being in love means." Addy jumped up, her hands knotted into fists as they rested against her hips. "I don't want to talk to you about Gerald or about love or sex. Daddy's paying you to be my bodyguard, not my psychiatrist, so just leave me alone."
Nick stood up, reached down, picked up her wineglass and handed it to her. "I'd say you've been left alone for too log."
Hesitating briefly, she took the glass, making sure their hands didn't touch. "I like being alone. It's preferable to spending time with insufferably macho men who think a Plain Jane like me should be grateful they've shown an interest."
Nick laughed aloud at her words. Plain Jane indeed. Was it possible, really possible, that Addy had no idea how incredibly lovely she looked right this minute? Had her ex-husband totally destroyed her confidence in her sexual attractiveness? Damn, what Nick would give for five minutes alone with Gerald Carlton!
Stepping away from Nick, Addy downed the remainder of her wine, then set the glass on a nearby chest. Nick set his glass beside hers, then with a swift move that alarmed Addy, he stepped behind her, grasping one shoulder.
"What are you doing?" Her voice was breathless. His big hand clutched her silk-covered shoulder as he gave her a gentle nudge forward. "Nick, stop it!"
"I want to show you something," he said, giving her another shove. "Move, woman."
She balked, refusing to budge another inch. "Stop shoving me around and stop giving me orders. What's gotten into you?"
"I want you to walk out into the foyer."
"Why?"
"I told you. I want to show you something."
"This is my house. What could you possibly show me that I haven't seen a hundred times?" she asked, trying to pull away from him. He held her shoulder firmly.
"You have two choices," Nick said. "Either you march your little fanny out into the foyer or I'll carry you."
"You wouldn't dare." She eyed his cane.
"Try me."
She didn't bother to turn around and face Nick. She didn't have to see the look on his face to know he was serious. She could hear the determination in his voice. She knew that if he had to carry her, he would, even if walking unaided by his cane might be painful for him.
"Oh, all right." The day had been almost more than she could bear. Accepting Nick as a live-in bodyguard despite her desire to remain free. Finding out that the man who'd attempted to kidnap her last night had met a deadly fate at the hands of some unknown person or persons still intent on harming her. Realizing that, for the first time in her life, she was sexually attracted to a man. Strongly, irrationally attracted to a man she had begun to think of as her personal champion.
She simply wasn't up to any more emotional upheaval. She didn't have the strength to fight Nick. Not right now.
With his hand firmly planted on her shoulder, Nick guided her out into the foyer. Momentarily releasing her, he flipped the switch that turned on the chandelier. Light, glittering off the cut crystal, flooded the entrance hall.
Nick led her to the enormous gilt-framed mirror that hung on a side wall. He set his cane aside. Confusion filled Addy's mind and heart when Nick, standing behind her, his big, dark hands draping her shoulders like bronze claws, positioned her directly in front of the rectangular looking glass.
She tried to avert her eyes, as if afraid of what her reflection would reveal. When she gazed down at her feet, Nick released one shoulder, taking her chin in his hand and tilting her face upward. She closed her eyes. Whatever he was trying to do, she wanted no part of it. She wasn't going to let him make her see something she didn't want to see.
With his lips close to her ear, he whispered, "Open your eyes, Addy, and tell me what you see."
He ran his hand down her neck, caressing her throat. Then he reached out and encircled her waist with his arm, pulling her back against him. She felt his hard arousal against her buttocks. Inadvertently she cried out.
"Open your eyes."
"No." The word escaped from her throat on a tormented breath.
"If you're afraid to take a good look at yourself and tell me what you see, then just listen and I'll tell you what I see."
"Please, Nick—don't."
He splayed his hand across her stomach. She jerked, an instinctive reaction that could have been fear or passion. Nick knew enough about women to understand that Addy was afraid. More of herself than of him.
"I see a woman, Addy. A woman. Not a girl and not even a lady, though I know that you are a lady in every sense of the word."
She squirmed against him, trying to pull away, wishing she could escape before he said anymore. "I hate you."
"No, you don't." His voice was deep and dark and incredibly sensuous. "You hate yourself, don't you, Addy? I'm making you feel like a woman and that frightens you."
"Why are you doing this to me?" She struggled against him. He held her tightly.
"God, Red, stop that! You've already got me so hot I'm about to lose it."
She stopped moving and stood perfectly still. His words seeped into her consciousness. Her body stiffened with denial, not wanting to admit that she was every bit as aroused as he was.
He ran his fingers through her hair, lifting it and watching the titian strands fall back to her shoulders as he released them. "You have beautiful hair. It's like fiery silk. Thick, wavy flames."
When he pulled her closer and closer against him, she didn't resist. He was weaving a spell with his words, words that she warned herself didn't mean a thing. Nick was a practiced lover, a Latin Romeo with the ability to charm any woman. She couldn't let him charm her. She didn't dare.
"Your skin," he said, caressing her neck, pushing aside her silk robe to fondle her shoulder. "Your skin is soft and smooth. All of your little freckles intrigue me. I'd like to kiss every one of them, and someday—someday soon—I will."
Addy drew in deep breaths trying to calm her raging senses. Don't listen to him, she told herself. He doesn't mean what he's saying.
He moved his hand downward, over her breasts, barely grazing her tight nipples. She closed her mouth, biting off a cry of excitement. Both of his hands spanned her waist. "Your body is sleek and slender and infinitely fascinating. When I first saw you, I thought you were flat-chested. I was wrong." He covered her small breasts with his hands, lifting their delicate weight, brushing her nipples with his thumbs. "They're high and firm and fill my hands. And I love the way your nipples hardened at my touch. You're a very responsive woman, Addy. Did you know that?"
She was beyond speaking, so she nodded. He buried his face against her neck, his mouth opening, his tongue lavishing seductive moisture on her heated flesh.
She leaned backward against him, unable to stop herself from succumbing to the enchantment of his words and the lure of his big hard body. Releasing her breasts, he slid his hands farther down her slender frame, stopping to grasp her hips, then gently kneading her buttocks. "Full and firm and tight." His hands skimmed the sides of her thighs. "Legs like a thoroughbred. Long and trim. Do you have any idea how much I want those long legs of yours wrapped around me?"
&n
bsp; She groaned when he eased both hands across the front of her legs, delving between them, easing the silky fabric of her gown up against the hot moistness she could not hide.
"Open your eyes, Addy, and take a look at a beautiful, sensuous woman … a woman I want desperately."
She opened her eyes, took one look at herself in the mirror and squeezed her eyes shut. "No, no … no."
"You dress yourself in plain, unattractive clothes trying to disguise the beautiful woman you are, but you sleep in frothy negligees. I'll bet all your lingerie is utterly sexy and feminine, isn't it?"
She didn't respond. His hands still rested between her thighs. He lifted up, pressing his fingers against her. Thrashing her head from side to side, she moaned.
"I want to make love to you. To you, Addy. I don't give a damn about Rusty's millions and I don't care what your ex-husband says. With me … with us … sex would be different. Open your eyes, Red. Take a look at us and tell me that you know what I'm saying is true."
Addy opened her eyes slowly, forcing herself to look in the mirror. God, was that her? The woman she saw staring back at her was beautiful. She was filled with a beauty born of passion, her face flushed with desire, her body taut with longing. And Nick stood behind her, his big body hard against her, his maleness pounding demandingly. He moved his hands over her as she watched.
"What do you see, Addy? Tell me."
"It's not me," she said, her voice hoarse with mounting desire. "You've turned me into someone I don't know."
"It is you, Addy. The real you. The real woman who wants and needs. You're on fire. You're on fire for me."
"Nick?"
He turned her around, taking her in his arms. The image of the wanton woman in the mirror burned brightly in Addy's mind. Nick Romero was a sorcerer, a wizard, a magician. He possessed the power to drive her wild with desire, to make her look and act like a beautiful, desirable woman.
He was her defender … her champion … her paladin. And she longed to be his woman.
He nibbled at her lips, teasing them apart. She sighed, opening for his possession. He took her with a force that shook them both. He deepened the kiss. She clung to him, running her hands over his bare shoulders and back, pressing herself against him, hot and ready and desperate.
PALADIN'S WOMAN Page 7
