by Daphne Clair
The man caught in the beam blinked but didn't raise his hand to shield his eyes, and Cade switched off the beam.
'It's okay, Mr Franklin,' the man said quietly. Then, to Carissa he added, 'Would you switch off your lights, please, Miss Martin, and wait until we signal you to go on. We just want to check in case we're being followed.'
She did as he asked, and he disappeared back into the darkness.
`Switch off,' said Cade, and leaned back into his own seat.
Her fingers fumbled for the key and the throbbing of the engine died, to be replaced in her ears by the hurried beat of her heart. She told herself it was nerves—the dark night, the fantastic possibility that they could have been followed by a man bent' on murder, the realisation that this secret drive through the night, those two men who were Cade's bodyguard, were part of real life, not elements in some fictional drama.
But it wasn't that. The reason for that heightened awareness was the man who now sat silent beside her. The reason was that he had touched her, his shoulder pressing against hers, his coat brushing against her breast as he leaned across the car. She had been conscious of his warmth, the faint aroma of soap and aftershave, his cheek so close she could have kissed it.
And what disturbed her more than anything was the almost overwhelming desire she had experienced to do so—to do so and have him turn his head in the darkness after the other man had gone and find her mouth with his.
CHAPTER THREE
THEY sat on, in the dark silence, Cade with his head half-turned over his shoulder, sitting sideways so that he could watch behind them. Carissa looked straight ahead into the blackness, carefully making each breath controlled and even while sounds filtered into the car from the night outside. The soft rustle of leaves as a night breeze stirred the thick growth of native trees lining the road, the sleepy thrum of a single cricket, the distant call of a morepork on the watch for some unwary prey. The muted hum of a car's engine on the main road that they had left came closer and then faded into the distance again without faltering, and Cade moved slightly as he relaxed. Once more the same sound from the same direction, and then silence.
After fifteen minutes headlights blinked on behind them, and Cade touched her ,shoulder briefly and said, 'Let's go.'
She had to drive more slowly now because the road became narrower and the hard tarseal gave way to gravel topped clay. It was impassable sometimes in the winter when the rains brought slips down across it or washed part of it into one of the steep gullies. Green and yellow opossum eyes gleamed at them from the dark roadside and once a morepork flew across the bonnet; startling her into touching the brake briefly before she realised what the grey ghostly apparition was. Small insects fluttered into the beam of light ahead of them, and a moth hit the windscreen, briefly floundered and died.
Her eyes began to ache with strain and her head throbbed gently in sympathy. Cade had switched off the
radio when they stopped, and she said, `Do you mind if we have the radio on again?'
He reached out and put it on and asked, 'Are you all right?'
'Yes, I'm fine,' she said with false firmness. 'Just getting a bit bored. It's a long drive, in the dark.'
He said, 'Is that a reflection on my company? Would you like me to talk to you?'
'Of course not,' she said.
'Of course not—what?'
'It isn't a reflection on your company,' she explained. 'I said it was the drive that was boring, not you. Talk if you like, but I don't expect you to keep me entertained.'
The other way round, in fact, she thought. At least, Morris expected her to keep Cade entertained for a few days or more. If she had known who it was before she agreed to take on the job wild horses couldn't have made her do it. But once she had done so there was no way she could think of to back out without making Morris suspicious. And even then, she hadn't any inkling what this man could do to her with the merest, most casual touch. She had to keep remembering she was now a mature twenty-five, not an idiotic seventeen. No way was she going to repeat the greatest blunder of her life.
Cade didn't talk much, but he did ask a few questions about the country they were passing through, even though he couldn't see it in the dark. Carissa told him they were not far from Rotorua, New Zealand's famous tourist resort where volcanic activity included boiling pools of mud and water, and the famous geysers shooting scalding hot water into the air. There were odd pockets of thermal activity in this area, too, and one of the attractions of the lake was a nearby swimming pool of natural hot water fed by a spring. The lake itself lay in a basin almost entirely surrounded by
native bush which grew down to the water's edge, except in a few places where a narrow strip of sand sloped into the water, ideal for swimming and boating.
`The lodge has its own private foreshore,' she said. `And a small freshwater inlet. Are you a fisherman?'
`No. I've tried it once or twice, but I'm not dedicated to the sport.'
`There are trout in the lake, and in the streams that feed it. Morris likes to fish here. You probably saw his prize fish in his flat.
'In the bedroom, yes. I thought the usual place for such trophies was a prominent place in the living room.'
'Oh, Morris is modest in his way. And he says it cheers him to wake up to the sight of an eight-pound rainbow trout.'
She felt the sideways glance he flicked at her as he murmured, 'I can think of nicer things to wake up to.'
She was glad he couldn't see her expression. She would have to school herself not to show her emotions to him. Well, Morris said she was a cool ice-maiden, an opinion apparently shared by the few men she had allowed-to enter her life for a time. If she could fool them she could fool Cade too. Not that she had needed to try very hard, before. There had never been very much danger of her letting any of them go half as far as Cade had. She had learned a bitter lesson when she was seventeen, and learned it well.
'Are you dedicated to any sport?' she asked coolly, leading away from the subject.
`Not as a player,' he said. 'I have done some karate and judo, and I swim. I followed baseball for many years, though. Seeing my first game after the operation was something—well, something.'
Carissa swallowed on an unexpected ache in her throat and steadied her voice with deliberation. 'It isn't played very much here. Tell me about it.'
DARLING DECEIVAR
He told her, and she listened and asked questions she hoped sounded intelligent, intoxicated by the beautiful voice she remembered so well, so that it didn't matter what he talked about, so long as she could keep on listening to it.
She stopped at the iron gate to the lodge and fumbled in her bag for the key to the padlock on it. The Mercedes drew up behind them as she got out of the car, and the man got out again and came over to her. She pointed out the side track that led to the fishermen's hut, and he told his partner to drive down there. 'If you don't mind, I'll come with you,' he said.
He took the key and opened the gate for her, then climbed into the back of the car after she drove through and he had locked it again.
When she drew up outside the garage behind the house, he said, 'Just stay here, please. I'll look round first.'
She felt Cade move restlessly beside her as the man opened the garage door and went in, a torch beam bobbing about as he shone it around. Then he came out and told her, 'Okay, so far. Can I have the house keys, please.' She-gave them to him and he said, 'Stay in the car until I come back. Don't move yet.'
Cade moved restlessly and then impatiently opened the door.
'He said to stay here,' Carissa reminded him.
'He works for me,' said Cade. give the orders.'
She wasn't sure who actually had hired the two men —she understood it was Morris, but no doubt Cade would ultimately foot the bill. 'He's doing his job,' she protested. 'Why not let him get on with it?'
He muttered something under his breath, still holding the door slightly open, and she knew he wanted to go and join the othe
r man, not cower in a car.
'Besides,' she added, remembering she had been detailed to look after him, too, but not expecting that ar-
gument to carry any weight at all, 'I don't fancy being left on my own here.'
He looked at her sharply and shut the door with a snap. 'You're nervous?' he asked. 'I thought you were the original cucumber lady.'
'Well, I'm not,' she said somewhat shortly, because she didn't fancy herself as the Little Woman who screamed and fainted at the first smell of danger. She wouldn't admit to herself that what she had said was the simple truth, but she had to let him think so. Only there was no need to make a production of it.
Unexpectedly she felt his cool fingers on her wrist, and he drawled with sardonic amusement, 'I do believe your pulse rate is a little fast, at that.'
Carissa wasn't surprised. It must be jumping all over the place, with the memories he was unknowingly invoking. She suddenly hated him, for arousing her this way without even trying, for being who he was, and what he was, with his careless charm that altered a girl's life and left her unfit for any other man while he didn't even remember, let alone cherish what they had shared, once. Most of all she-hated him for not remembering.
This time she didn't snatch her hand away from his touch, though she had an urgent and primitive desire to do it, and hit out at him in a fury of pain and anger. She pulled away without haste but firmly, and he let her go.
The bodyguard came back, with his mate, and when she asked, 'How did he get in?' the first one chuckled and said,
`Mr Wyatt gave us a spare gate key. He used it after he put our car out of sight. It's all clear, and I switched on the generator for you. Our number is on your telephone pad. Goodnight.'
Cade said, 'Thanks, Stan. Goodnight. Goodnight, Pat.'
'Stan? Pat?' Carissa queried as she-drove into the
garage. 'When were you introduced?'
'While you were at the office, of course. They could hardly do the job without all of us having a good look at each other, could they?'
She supposed not. 'I'm not used to this cloak and dagger stuff,' she muttered, opening her door.
'Neither am I,' she heard him say as they both got out. But looking at him in the faint glow from the interior light of the car, she thought he looked big and dark and dangerous, and that he didn't mind too much about the danger. She wondered if he would regard it as one of the new challenges presented to him by the operation that had restored his sight.
They carried their, luggage into the small kitchen, and she said; 'I'll just put on the kettle and show you a room. There are plenty, to choose from.'
She, filled the kettle and plugged it in, then led him upstairs; leaving her own case and overnight bag in the kitchen.
She opened the door of the first room upstairs and said, `Will this be all right? It has a shower and toilet through there. She nodded towards the door at one side of the room.
'It Looks fine.' He put his case and his guitar on the blue-quilted bed, and she went out to the hall cupboard and scooped out some sheets and towels. She brought them back into the room and said, 'I'll make up the bed later,' and went into the small bathroom to place the towels on the rail there and unwrap the new cake of soap in the cupboard over the small hand-basin. She screwed up the stiff paper into a ball and holding it in her hand, walked into the bedroom again. Cade had taken off his jacket and tie and undone some of the buttons of his shirt. He looked very masculine like that, a narrow vee of tanned skin showing between the edges of his shirt. Masculine and wildly handsome. His
good looks were even more devastating now that his dark eyes were no longer hidden by glasses.
Carissa said, `Coffee will be ready in about five minutes. Unless you prefer something else.
His mouth quirked into a faintly sardonic smile but he said, `Coffee sounds fine, thank you.'
He came down with her and as she switched off the jug which was, burbling happily on the bench, he asked, `Where do you want these?' and picked up her luggage.
take them up later,' she told him.
He didn't put them down, merely said again, 'Where do you want them?'
She hadn't thought about it, and when he asked, `Will the room next to mine do?' she said 'Yes. Thank-you,' almost too hastily, because it threw her into a near panic and that was too stupid for words. What difference did it make? They were alone in the house anyway and whether she slept next door to him or at the far end of the not very long passageway, what did it matter, really?
He returned just as she put two steaming cups on the table, and placed a sugar bowl between them. `Cream?' she asked, holding a small tin.
`No, thanks. Black.'
She had known, but congratulated herself on pretending not to. `There's plenty of food here,' she said, `but milk and eggs have to come from the store further round the lake. I'll get some in tomorrow.'
They drank their coffee in silence, and she picked up the empty cups to wash them, almost falling as she stumbled over the leg of her chair on getting up.
Cade was on his feet, steadying her, his arm on her waist and a hand firm on her elbow.
`Thank you,' she said. She moved out of his hold, but he took the cups from her and said, wash them. You're beat. Go to bed.
Too tired to argue, Carissa went upstairs, but there was his bed to make, first. She had put the sheets on and was smoothing the blankets over them when he walked into the room.
`I told you to go to bed,' he said, sounding irritated. 'And I meant yours, not mine. Unless you're planning to share that with me?'
If, she hadn't been so tired she would have kept her temper—and her head. As it was she snapped the first thing that came into her mind. `I'm only doing my job, Mr—Franklin. And that's all I'm going to do. You may find it difficult to believe, but I've no desire to share any bed with you ever—' again, she had almost said. Appalled, she stopped herself just in time. `I'm sorry,' she said, looking at his face, that had gone hard and cruel, the eyes narrowed and glittering and the mouth unmistakably grim. `I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that, I'm very tired.'
'Yes, you are,' he agreed, those merciless eyes on her pale face, the faint blue shadows about her darkened eyes. 'If it wasn't for that I'd be very tempted to make you take that back.'
Her heart bumped with fear and the room seemed to execute a gentle swaying action before righting itself again She closed her eyes momentarily and realised that her headache was worse. With a faint shake of her head she opened them again.
Cade still looked grim, but his voice was almost gentle as he said, Now, get out of here, before I change my mind.'
When she woke it seemed very bright. She had a vague memory of drawing the curtains before she had climbed into bed last night, a hastily made bed that had nevertheless looked immensely inviting after the fraught day she had been through. Her head had been throbbing in earnest by then, and she had taken two aspirins in the
bathroom after cleaning her teeth. Thank goodness the ache seemed to have gone.
She opened her eyes and found a large shadow blocking the window. Cade.
'I brought you some breakfast in bed,' he said pleasantly, and she saw the tray with a plate of bacon and buttered toast on her bedside table, and a cup of tea.
'No eggs, I'm afraid,' he told her. 'But there's plenty of frozen bread and butter.'
`You shouldn't have,' she said. 'But thank you.' She sat up, pulling up a flimsy strap that fell from her shoulder. 'What's the time?'
`Ten o'clock. You were dead to the world at eight, but I looked in again twenty minutes ago and you seemed to be stirring.'
She tried to take the tray, and he crossed the room and said, let me.'
He settled the tray across her and sat on the bed. Carissa ate a little self consciously, wishing he would go away, but he talked about the view from the house across the lake and the trophies adorning the walls downstairs.
`Did Morris bag the stag, too?' he asked, referring to the head of a magnificent tw
elve-pointer that took pride ,of place in the large dining room.
`No, Morris is no hunter. It belonged to the previous owner. The house was put up for sale when he died. A lot of the furnishings came with it. I hate that thing, myself, it puts me off my food. But some of the guests find it impressive, and it's a talking point, so Morris left it there.'
'I don't see much sport in shooting a deer, myself. Skill, I suppose, but if I was a hunter I think I'd prefer something that at least could fight back.'
Yes, you would, she thought. I can see you going after tigers. Aloud she said. 'We're short on dangerous ani-
mals in New Zealand. I believe wild pigs can get pretty fierce, though. Tuskers have been known to kill dogs, and turn on hunters.'
`You've just persuaded me to take up fishing,' he said lazily.
Carissa laughed, which was probably what he wanted. She didn't believe him, of course. He wasn't the type to be put off by danger. More likely it would stimulate him. He must have hated being blind.
But he smiled back at her, and she hastily lifted her teacup and drained it so that she needn't look at him. When he smiled he was too attractive altogether.
He took the empty tray from her, but instead of getting up and taking it away with him, he placed it back on the table, then turned to put his hands on either side of her on the bed, trapping her against the pillows.
Still faintly smiling, he said, 'You look just like a new bride. I rather fancy being a honeymoon husband, waking up to you in the morning, Carissa.'
'Well, you're not,' she retorted, trying to sound light hearted but firm. 'And there's no need to pretend. No one can see us.'
His smile broadened a little, and she wondered if that remark had been a mistake. 'What about a little practice?' he said. 'Good morning, darling.' And he leaned forward and kissed her.
His mouth was firm and warm, but as kisses go it was fairly innocuous and nothing to get excited about. If she hadn't panicked and tried to shove him away with her hands on his shoulders, he would probably have left it at that.
