Steeling himself, he quickly peeled away the tiny scraps of lace and chiffon that passed for underwear. He tossed them on the floor, then slid his arms around her, trying not to notice how perfectly she fit against him, and carried her into the bathroom. He placed her gently in the tub, where he quickly sponged off the worst of the grit.
“You’ll have to do the rest yourself after you wake up,” he muttered after a few minutes. The sight of her perfect breasts and lithe young body had made him as hard as granite. “I know it’s not your fault, but I can’t do this anymore.”
He grabbed a towel from the rack and wrapped it around her, then carried her to the bed. Peeling back the bedspread, he laid her on the sheets, leaving the towel wrapped around her.
“I can’t leave that on you.” He scowled. The large bath towel covered her body, but it was damp and she would be shivering in a few minutes. He rummaged in a drawer and pulled out one of his T-shirts. “This should work.”
He eased the towel away from her and quickly pulled the T-shirt over her head. It floated down her body, covering her almost to her knees. He breathed a sigh of relief, which turned into a scowl when he realized that it did nothing to hide the curve of her breasts and the outline of her nipples. His hands ached to weigh her breasts, to feel their weight in his hands, and he jerked the sheet over her body. “I’ll be in the other room.”
Night had fallen completely, and the sky was dark velvet over the black of the Caribbean. Stars glittered in the sky, reflected in the water like sharp diamonds. The muted sound of voices and the low laughter of women drifted on the breeze from the common areas of the resort.
Marcus ignored the sounds of merriment that wafted from the resort. He stared into the darkness, looking down the beach, probing the foliage near his cabin. Who was out there? Where were they hiding? What predators prowled the night?
Somewhere, someone was looking for the woman who lay on his bed. Someone who meant her harm. The familiar adrenaline of a case rose inside him, making his heart pound, sharpening his senses. No one would hurt her, he vowed. He would make sure of that.
He picked up his cellular telephone and dialed a number he had memorized. After two rings a voice said, “Devane here.”
“This is Waters,” Marcus said. “Have you heard anything about a missing woman?”
“No.” Marcus could hear the interest sharpen in Russell Devane’s voice. “What do you have?”
“I’m not sure. I found a woman washed up on the beach about a half mile from the resort. There wasn’t anyone else around, and she didn’t have any identification. She’s still unconscious.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Wait until she wakes up, then find out what’s going on. I hoped you or one of the others might have heard something.”
“Not a word. But we’ll keep our ears open.”
“Let me know if you hear anything.”
Marcus closed the phone and went into the bedroom to look at the woman once more. She hadn’t moved from the place he’d set her down. But he could see that she was shivering.
Gently he drew the bedspread over her, then reached for the extra blanket. “No one knows a thing about you,” he murmured. “Devane would have heard if there was anything to hear. Who are you, mystery woman? And how did you end up on that beach?”
His only answer was the steady rise and fall of her chest. “I’ll be in the other room if you wake up,” he said. He let his gaze linger on her for another moment, then he turned and walked out of the room. It would be wise not to spend too much time with her, he told himself. The effect she had on him was too intense and too disturbing.
It would be better once she woke up. He was sure the attraction would disappear once she was conscious and talking to him. What could he have in common with such a young woman?
He felt much better as he sat on the sofa. That was the answer, of course. Once she was awake, he would see that she was just another woman, beautiful but very young. Once she was awake, this ridiculous state of arousal would quickly disappear. Hell, he wasn’t interested in relationships, anyway. Hadn’t they just established that he was better off without Margarita or any other woman? Hadn’t he learned his lesson all those years ago when Heather had forced him to choose between her and his career with SPEAR? His mystery woman would tell him what had happened to her, he would help her deal with it, and they would go their separate ways. It was that simple.
Marcus grabbed the book he had started reading earlier, but put it down after only ten minutes. Restlessly he stood and paced around the living room. Finally, unable to stop himself, he stepped into the dimly lit bedroom. The woman on the bed was still unconscious, but she had moved. She lay on her side and looked as if she was sleeping. Her left hand was tucked under her cheek, and her right hand was curled under her chin. He’d apparently managed to get most of the sand out of her hair, because it was drying in a soft golden cloud around her face. She looked innocent and helpless, and another fierce wave of protectiveness flooded through him.
He might not know much about relationships, but he knew how to protect a woman. And that’s what he would do. He’d get her back safely where she belonged and make sure that nothing else happened to her.
He adjusted the blanket around her shoulders, then crouched next to the bed again. “You’re going to be all right,” he said in a low, comforting voice. “You’re safe now, and you’re not badly hurt. Sleep for as long as you like. When you wake up, we’ll figure out how to help you.”
She moaned in her sleep, but it didn’t sound as frantic and fearful as her earlier cries. Her forehead wrinkled as if she was trying to figure something out. Then she was quiet and still again.
“It won’t be long before you’re awake,” Marcus said, familiar enough with injuries to know when someone was regaining consciousness. “I’ll be close by when you do.”
He stood, intending to walk to the living room. But he was oddly reluctant to leave her alone. She would be frightened when she woke up. She wouldn’t know where she was. Maybe he should stay with her.
“She’ll think you’re one of the people who hurt her, you idiot,” he growled to himself. “Get out of here.”
He moved into the other room, but couldn’t sit down to read. He paced the small room, then went and stood on the tiny porch.
The sounds of the tourists’ voices were lower, muted and more intimate. It was the end of the evening, and soon everyone would be returning to their cottages and rooms. The time for shared gaiety and laughter had passed. Now couples would be dancing more slowly, their bodies touching, hands twining together. Men and women would exchange heated glances, allow their hands to linger just a little longer. Soon everyone would steal away and the resort would be silent and still.
Marcus scowled and walked inside, closing the door firmly behind him. He had a job to do, and the woman on his bed had become part of his job. He’d damn well better remember that.
He threw himself onto the couch and picked up his book again. After staring at the same page for too long, he closed the book and leaned back, willing himself to get some rest.
He had just fallen into a restless sleep when he heard a noise from the bedroom. It sounded as if someone was walking around. He leaped to his feet and ran into the other room.
The woman was no longer lying on the bed. She was standing next to it, swaying, gripping the chest of drawers for support.
Panic leaped into her eyes when she saw him. She grabbed a nail file that had been on the dresser. “Stay away,” she said, her voice low and husky. “I have a weapon.”
Chapter 2
Jessica Burke gripped the chest of drawers with one hand and held the pitifully small nail file tightly in the other. Fear and anger throbbed inside her, and she welcomed it. Her head ached and her legs wobbled, but she wasn’t about to give an inch to the man who stood in the doorway.
He hadn’t been one of the two men who had grabbed her in her workshop, but that didn’t mea
n a thing. He was probably the one who’d ordered her kidnapping, the Simon that her two kidnappers had talked about.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, his voice deep and quiet. He stood and watched her, making no effort to come any closer.
“You expect me to believe you?” Jessica tried to put as much scorn as possible in her voice.
To her shock, the man smiled at her, and Jessica felt her stomach swoop toward her toes. She scowled and gripped the nail file more tightly. She must have gotten a blow on the head, she told herself. How else could she explain her reaction to a man who had kidnapped her?
The man’s smile disappeared. “You have no reason to trust me,” he said, his voice still quiet, “but I mean you no harm. My name is Marcus Waters and I found you on the beach just before dusk this evening. You looked as if you’d been washed ashore.”
Jessica studied the man in front of her. Rangy and tall, at least a head taller than her own petite five feet four inches, he looked like any other tourist in the Caribbean islands. His blond hair was a little too long. He was dressed casually, in shorts and a T-shirt, and he had sandals on his feet. But his blue eyes burned into her with the intensity of a laser. Those were not the eyes of a casual tourist.
“Are you taking me to Simon?” she demanded.
His face tightened for a moment, and she saw a flare of shock in his eyes. Then it was gone and his face looked no different than it had a moment ago. But there was a new wariness in his eyes.
“Who’s Simon?”
“I was hoping you could tell me that.”
He shook his head slowly. “I told you, my name is Marcus Waters. I have no idea who Simon is.”
“You’re lying.” He’d reacted to the name, she was certain of it.
He watched her for a moment, then he nodded toward the bed. “Why don’t you sit down? I promise not to come any farther into the room. But I’m afraid you’re going to fall.”
Jessica damned her rubbery legs and spinning head, but she knew he was right. If she didn’t sit down, she would fall. And she would lose any advantage she had over him. Gingerly she moved to the bed and perched on the edge, realizing she wore nothing but an unfamiliar T-shirt. Her lack of clothing, and the knowledge that this stranger had undressed her, made her feel even more vulnerable.
“Where am I?” she demanded.
“You’re on Cascadilla,” he said promptly. “At the Westwind Falls Resort. This is one of their beachfront cottages.” He paused, then asked, “Do you know where Cascadilla is?”
“Of course,” she began, then stopped abruptly. Until she knew more about this man, she wasn’t going to answer any of his questions. “I know where Cascadilla is. But how do I know you’re telling me the truth?”
Marcus nodded at the telephone. “Pick it up and dial zero,” he said. “The front desk will answer.”
Without taking her eyes off him, she reached for the phone and fumbled it out of its cradle. She punched in zero, then held it to her ear. When the operator said, “Westwind Falls Resort, front desk, how may I help you?” she hung up the phone.
“All right, so you’re telling the truth about that. That doesn’t mean I trust you about anything else. Even a criminal can stay at the Westwind Falls.”
“But he would have to be a very wealthy criminal,” he said smoothly. “Since you know about the Westwind Falls Resort, can I assume that you live on Cascadilla?”
She clamped her lips together. “I’m not going to tell you anything. In fact, I’m not going to stay here. I’m going to walk out the door, and you’d better not try and stop me.”
“Or you’ll stab me with the nail file?” His eyes softened, and she saw a glint of admiration in them. “I’m not trying to keep you here against your will. You’re welcome to go. But before you do, maybe you ought to think about how you got here. Who hurt you? And are they still out there, waiting for you?”
Jessica bit her lip as the fear crashed over her again. For the past few minutes, as she was sparring with the man in the doorway, she had forgotten her ordeal. Her eyes slid to the telephone again. “Maybe I’ll just call the police.”
“Go ahead, if that would make you feel better. But how do you know they’re not involved?” His eyes took on a cynical glint. “Money can buy just about anything in the islands.”
She knew that far better than most. And he was right. “Then I’ll call my family.”
“Why don’t you let me help you?” he said softly. “At least tell me your name and what happened to you.” He paused, and his eyes hardened. “And how this man Simon is involved.”
“Why are you concerned?” she retorted. “Why would you want to help me? And what do you know about Simon?”
He shrugged. “I’m in law enforcement. And I’m the one who found you. I’m curious about what happened to you.”
“You recognized the name Simon,” she said, watching him carefully.
She saw the jolt of surprise in his eyes and felt a fierce satisfaction. Then his face was carefully blank again.
“I’ve heard the name,” he finally said. “Someone here at the resort must have been talking about a man named Simon. But I have no idea who he is.”
Could she trust him? She couldn’t trust anyone, she told herself. But he had offered to let her call the police. If he had wanted to hurt her or turn her over to the man named Simon, he’d had plenty of opportunities while she was unconscious. And she needed to know what had happened in those lost hours since she’d jumped off the boat and woken up in this room.
“Why don’t you first tell me how you found me, and where?” she said.
He nodded. “That’s only fair.” He hesitated. “Do you mind if I come in the room and sit down? This may take a while.”
Jessica shook her head slowly. “No.” She watched while he settled his long frame in a chair on the other side of the bed and realized he’d done it deliberately so he wasn’t blocking her escape route. She allowed herself to relax just a little.
He leaned forward, fixing her with his gaze, and a hum of electricity seemed to fill the room and shiver along her nerves. He let his hands dangle between his knees, and she found herself staring at them. What would it feel like if Marcus Waters touched her? When she realized what she was doing, she sat upright with a start. What was the matter with her? What was she thinking? She didn’t even know this man.
When she let her gaze meet his, she was startled at the intensity in his eyes. They bored into her, making her shiver.
“I was walking down the beach,” he began abruptly, holding her gaze but banking the intensity in his eyes. “It was close to dusk and there was no one else around. I saw what I thought was a clump of seaweed on the beach, then I realized it was a body.” He paused and waited, as if gauging her reaction.
“Go ahead,” she said.
“It was you. You were unconscious, and it looked as if you’d been washed ashore. I made sure you didn’t have any broken bones and checked to see if you had any head injuries. When I couldn’t find any, I picked you up and carried you back to my cottage.”
“Did you call the police?” she demanded.
He stared at her for a moment, measuring her, then shook his head. “I had the phone in my hand, but then you cried out. It was obvious you were frightened of someone, that someone had hurt you. So I decided to wait until you woke up before I called anyone. I wanted to talk to you first.”
Jessica narrowed her eyes as she stared at him. “It seems odd that you wouldn’t call the police. Isn’t that the obvious thing to do?”
Marcus stood and moved to the window. He opened the shutters just enough to look outside. While he was staring into the darkness, he said, “I told you, I’m in law enforcement. I had a bad feeling about what happened to you. I wasn’t sure if calling the local police was the smart thing to do. That’s why I wanted to wait until you woke up.”
Slowly he turned to face her. “Do you want to call the police now? Are you sure they can keep yo
u safe? Or would you rather tell me what happened and let me help you figure out what to do?”
God help her, but she wanted to believe him. Appalled, she stared at the man standing across the room from her. What was the matter with her? This man was a total stranger, and she wanted to trust him with her life.
She was a scientist. She needed proof, concrete evidence. She needed facts. But a reckless part of her that had been deeply buried had somehow reappeared. She wanted to believe him without proof. She wanted to tell him what had happened to her. She wanted to believe that he could help her, that he was on her side.
She was drawn to Marcus Waters, and the realization scared her. She was intelligent enough to know that she was reacting to him the way a woman reacts to a man. She didn’t know anything about men, about dealing with them as a woman. Her dating life was practically nonexistent. But she yearned to trust this man in front of her.
She hesitated for a moment, her analytical side struggling to control her emotional need to connect with Marcus. Finally she nodded. “I’ll tell you what happened.”
“Thank you.” He moved to the chair, sat and leaned forward, his arms resting on his legs. “What’s your name?”
She hesitated again. This was the first test. Taking a deep breath, she said, “My name is Jessica Burke.”
“All right, Jessica, what happened to you?”
He didn’t recognize her name, she realized, and relief flooded through her. He didn’t know who she was or who her parents were. Surely that meant he wasn’t involved.
You don’t know this man, she reminded herself. He could merely be a good actor.
But she’d managed to read him easily enough earlier, when she’d been quite certain he was trying to hide his reaction to the name Simon. She had to trust her instincts. They were all she had right now.
“I’m a scientist,” she began slowly. She saw the flicker of surprise in his eyes and ignored it. “My parents live on a private island not too far from Cascadilla. I have an office near my parents’ home that I use when I visit them. My office is a small building near the beach, somewhat isolated and quite a walk away from the main house.”
Someone To Watch Over Her Page 2
