by Donna Fasano
All at once, a car careened out of nowhere, and drove straight at her.
She hardly had time to think. She leapt off the road. But her foot caught on a large rock embedded in the unpaved shoulder, and she went head over heels, tumbling into the ditch. Gravel flew in all directions as the car screeched past, tires spinning in the dirt. Before she could right herself to get the license plate, it had sped away.
She lay for a moment in the muddy ditch, testing her aching limbs. Slowly, she got up and peered down the road in both directions. No sign of the car. With a huff, she limped back up onto the pavement, wincing at the bumps and scratches on her arms and legs. She swiped vainly at the dirt that streaked her dress.
What a mess.
She hobbled slowly back to the hotel, and met Vanja in the lobby. When she’d described to her horrified friend what had happened, Vanja reached for the phone. "I'm calling Leif. And then we’re reporting this to the police.”
"No, that’s not necessary. It's nothing, really. I just look like hell.”
“Don’t argue." Vanja tapped her foot impatiently as it rang through. "Damn. I got his voicemail." She left a somewhat dire message to call, hung up, and gave Joanne a sympathetic look.
“I’m not surprised he didn’t answer,” Joanne said. “I ran into him earlier and he got a call about chasing some smuggler.”
“Ah. That explains it.” Vanja grimaced. "You look like you could really use a drink, girl.”
"Maybe a small one," she admitted. She looked down at herself. "Give me a few minutes to shower and change?"
Vanja glanced at the clock over the desk. "I get off in half an hour. Meet you in the pub?”
Once upstairs, Joanne climbed in the shower and let the water cascade over her body, slowly dissolving away the soreness and the grime. She didn’t think a shower had ever felt so good.
Toweling her hair dry, she tried to decide what to wear down to the pub. Her skirt was toast, and the blouse, too—it was even missing a button. That made two ruined outfits, and she hadn’t brought along that many nice ones to begin with. But she’d be seeing Leif, so she wanted to look good. Hmmm. Hadn’t she thrown in a summery miniskirt at the last minute?
Vanja’s call to him had started a thrum of excitement pounding through Joanne’s veins. Even if she wanted to, there was obviously no graceful way of avoiding Leif. Not after that alarming message. Besides, he, himself, had suggested having a drink together when he got off work.
She would just have to brace herself and face him.
As well as her indecision.
Chapter 25
Leif strode through the Hjortron's dining room toward the rear of the hotel, where the small pub was located. He stopped just inside the door to the noisy room and rolled up the sleeves of his favorite gray-blue shirt as he scanned the murky crowd, searching for Joanne. The pub was jammed, loud with laugher and the hard beat of rock music.
He didn’t see her.
Anger made his jaw clench. e couldn’t believe she’d been run off the road. What the hell had he been thinking, leaving her alone like that, after learning she might actually be an AVO target? He should at the very least have asked Vanja to keep an eye on her and see that she didn’t venture out of the hotel by herself.
And he damn well should have checked his voicemail sooner than fifteen minutes ago.
He had spent the past few hours chasing down that damned smuggler. The truck had been overflowing with contraband fur from Finland, so Leif had been saddled with a boatload of paperwork after the arrest.
At the same time, he’d been trying to get hold of his father in China. He’d wanted to find out right away what his dad knew about Joanne’s grandfather, and if he had any theories as to why the Hungarian security police might be after Joanne. That couldn’t wait until his parents returned. The sooner the mystery of Robert Grant’s death—and its possible connection to the two Hungarians—was solved, the better. Until then, Joanne could be in danger. Leif needed to keep her safe until these guys were behind bars, or at least kicked out of the country.
Especially now there’d been a second incident.
Thinking of their earlier accidental meeting in front of the drug store, he winced inwardly. He’d been taken by surprise when she nearly caught him buying condoms.
Despite his determination not to get involved with her, he was a realist. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the amazing kiss they’d shared. If it happened again, he didn’t think he’d be able to resist taking things further. So he’d decided to stop at the drug store...just in case. Better to be prepared and disappointed than not prepared and frustrated.
But when she'd practically knocked him down coming out, aside from embarrassment, reality had smacked him in the face. He was still a government official, and she was a guest in his country. And Joanne was still not the kind of woman who would ever consider moving to this part of the world to be with him, so their relationship could never be anything other than a temporary diversion.
He’d told himself all that, over and over.
But it made no difference. He still wanted her just as badly.
So, that guilty little box of condoms was now safely ensconced in his nightstand drawer. If temporary was all he could get, he’d take it. Why should he deny himself the pleasures she could offer, if she was willing?
Vanja was right. He’d just been making excuses. No one in the government would care if they had a brief affair. There was no law against it. They could have a pleasant few days, if she was interested. There couldn't be any harm in that.
Other than the fear in his own mind...of getting in over his head.
But that wouldn’t be possible. Not in the space of less than a week. Especially now that he had to focus on protecting her. No time for romantic fantasies.
He just needed to shake off the panic crowding in on him from all sides, relax, and go with it, wherever it might lead.
And that’s what he intended to do.
Just as soon as he could find her and make sure she was all right.
After doing a circuit of the bar, he finally spotted Joanne. She was a vision standing next to Vanja, laughing. A short, tight, incredibly sexy skirt hugged her shapely hips. Her fingers toyed with a curl of her long, blond hair, sending visions through his mind of what those pale locks would look like spread across his pillow as he ran his fingers through it.
But the image was shattered when he saw who she and Vanja were laughing and chatting with. That damned American, Bill McAndrew.
Leif halted and stood anchored to the spot, taking in the scene.
And making up his mind.
Fuck that.
Sorry, McAndrew, your hopes for the night are about to be dashed.
Detouring over to where Håkan and Ingvar were slumped down at a table trying to avoid his notice, he grabbed a napkin, scrawled his rival’s name on it, and handed it to Håkan. "Find out everything you can about this guy. I want something I can use." He turned to go, then paused and added, "Have it on my desk by ten tomorrow morning." He leveled his sights on Joanne. "I might be in...a little late."
Chapter 26
Joanne was furious with Leif.
Which was why she had been flirting shamelessly with Bill for the past hour. Only slightly ashamed of herself, she’d batted her eyelashes and laughed at his dumb jokes.
She and Vanja had been in the pub forever, and Leif hadn't shown so much as a mustache whisker. He must have gotten the voicemail about her hit-and-run ages ago.
So much for his promise of a drink together.
What. Ever.
She smoothed the frown that had unconsciously crept over her forehead, and forced a bright smile back onto her lips. Just because she felt a little twinge of sexual desire for the man didn't mean she had to become all obsessed with him. He’d made his position crystal clear.
Not. Interested.
Fine. Neither was she.
Suddenly, she sensed a change in the atmosphere of the
room. She glanced around, her gaze drawn to a wave of movement in the crowd.
Like the eye of a storm, Leif moved through the swirl of bar patrons. His focus was riveted on her.
Looking for all the world like one of his Viking warrior ancestors, he bore down on her with muscles rippling and eyes dark with intent, an aura of potent sexuality surrounding his whole being.
She swallowed hard, and her pulse took off at a gallop.
With a nod to Vanja, he ignored Bill, whose chatty conversation came to an abrupt halt. Joanne could feel the curious stares of everyone in the pub as Leif gently but firmly grasped her arm, and said, "I believe we have somewhere to go."
"We do?" she croaked, trying desperately to figure out what he might be talking about.
It was no use. Her brain was functioning about as well as her suddenly leaden legs. She was thankful his strong grip was preventing her from melting onto the floor. She’d never before felt so...singled out.
“Sorry it took me so long to get here. I was out on that smuggling case longer than expected.”
“It’s okay. I—”
His eyes narrowed dangerously as they snagged on her scraped chin. “I just got Vanja’s message that you were run off the road."
Okay, so it wasn’t molten lust simmering in his eyes, it was anger. “Well, sort of.” Thank God. Anger, she could handle. Molten lust...not so much.
"I want to see where it happened and get the details.” His breath scorched her temple. "Come with me.”
A path through the crowd opened up for them as he propelled her toward the exit. The faces were a blur, and all she heard was the pulsing of the music...and the pounding of her own heartbeat.
Then the weirdest thing happened. As they walked outside and he closed the door behind them, the crowd erupted in a cheer.
“What was that all about?” she muttered.
He shot her an indecipherable look. “Just my friends and neighbors being idiots.”
Once in the Landcruiser, her nervousness returned with a vengeance. Her hands fumbled and she couldn't get her seat belt fastened. He reached over and snapped it shut with a loud snick that made her jump.
Holy crap. She really needed to calm down.
Leif hadn't tried to attack her like some Viking berserker. Hell, he hadn’t even kissed her hello on the cheek. Despite his stormy expression, he was being a perfect gentleman.
She took a deep breath, and murmured, "It's nice of you to be so concerned about the accident. But it was nothing really. I ended up in a ditch and got a few scratches, but nothing serious. It was probably just some kids trying to act cool in front of their buddies. It really—"
She halted in mid-sentence and snapped her mouth shut.
She was babbling. She never babbled.
He gave her another unfathomable look, and started the engine. "Joanne, from now on, I don't want you going anywhere by yourself. If you need to go out of the hotel for any reason, call me.”
"What?" She peered over at him, incredulity trumping her nervousness. "I don't need a baby sitter. You may not have noticed"—she crossed her arms defiantly—"but I'm a grown woman, not a child.”
"I've noticed," he growled, and backed the Landcruiser out of its parking slot.. "I've also noticed that every time you go outside, you get into trouble. I’ll be responsible if something happens to you.”
"Are you serious? I've been taking care of myself for a long time, Leif. You are not responsible for me," she said. "Really, you're blowing this all out of proportion. I had a flat tire, and got pranked by some teenagers. Big deal." She added in exasperation, "Besides, what else could possibly happen?”
His jaw worked. “Jo, there’s something I need to tell you. About your flat tire.”
He suddenly looked so somber, her irritation dimmed a bit. “Okay. What?”
“Turns out, it wasn’t a normal blowout. Your tire was shot. The mechanic found a bullet inside it.”
She blinked. Oka-ay. “That’s kind of bizarre.” How the hell had that happened? “I guess it must be hunting season, or something.”
He shook his head. “Not really. Too early in the year for hunting.”
She digested that with more than a trickle of unease. What was he saying? Should she be worried? “Then... What?”
He glanced over at her as he stopped at the parking lot exit. “Honestly, I don’t know. I reported it to the police and they’ve started an investigation.” He jetted out a breath. “They traced those two men in the Saab.”
He hesitated so long, she got even more nervous. “And...?”
“You were right. They were eastern European. Hungarian. They run an import-export company.”
She could tell there was more to it than that. Something he didn’t want to tell her. “What else?”
“They may be AVO agents. The Hungarian State Security Police.”
She stared at him in disbelief. Then let out a laugh. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No. I’m not.”
Good lord. “Are you seriously telling me you think the Hungarian secret police is out to get me? Me?” She couldn’t help another chuckle. For a minute there, she’d actually been worried.
He frowned. “No. Yes.” He made a pained face. “I don’t know. Maybe. The point is, we don’t know what the hell is going on, and until we can question those men, you need to be careful. Just promise you’ll call me if you have to leave the hotel.”
Holy crap. He was serious.
The whole idea was preposterous, but he seemed intent keeping her locked up at the Hjortron.
She shook her head. “That’s not possible. I can’t find my grandfather from my hotel room.”
"The State Department assigned me to help you,” he said impatiently, “and I fully intend to do that. But I can’t be with you 24/7. There’ll be things at work I’ll need to take care of.”
He wasn’t hearing her. “I have less than a week to solve a sixty-year-old mystery, Leif. I can’t sit around twiddling my thumbs waiting for you to show up.”
“That’s unfortunate, because I have no intention of letting your own bullheadedness put you in danger!”
They glared at each other.
"Oh, really.”
"Yeah. Really."
Then he took a deep breath, his expression smoothed, and he reached over to run a knuckle along her tightly folded arm. "I care about you, Jo. I just don't want to see anything else happen to you.”
Her anger cooled a little at the olive branch, and her scowl eased. “I appreciate that, but seriously, I’ll be fine.”
Seeing the genuine concern on his face, her anger dissolved.
God, he was handsome. Rugged, and weather-worn, and ragged around the edges. Everything he’d never found attractive in a man before. But on him...it made her insides melt.
His voice deepened, as if he knew exactly what he was doing to her. "So. Where do we go from here?”
Their gazes locked again, but this time, reason-numbing need filled her body. She had a sudden, desperate urge to say, “Your place.”
God, how could she want a man this much, even when he was being so unreasonable? She pressed her knees together.
"The meadow halfway to the village,” she made herself say. “If you still want to see where the car forced me off the road.”
He gave a curt nod, and pulled the Landcruiser onto the road.
He’d let the subject drop for now, but she had a feeling he wasn’t giving up.
Hungarian secret police.
How absurd was that?
Chapter 27
It was nearly midnight and the sun was still up, though it was just a sliver on the horizon. The mottled twilight gave the lonely landscape an eerie, fairyland feel as they drove, with shadows long and diffuse, dewdrops sparkling, and the sweet scents of summer heavy in the warm air. Normally, Joanne would have found it enchanting. But the tension sparking between her and Leif sort of spoiled the magic.
When they reached the meadow and
he pulled over, she pointed out the spot where she’d toppled into the ditch. He directed the headlights toward it, and they got out to look around.
There wasn't much evidence of the incident. Just a couple of tire tracks and her own scuff marks.
After examining the area, he walked back toward the Landcruiser. "I'm going to call this in and have someone from the police lab come out tomorrow and do casts. Maybe we’ll get lucky." He slipped behind the wheel and grabbed the mic to the two-way radio.
Joanne spotted the missing button from her blouse lying on the ground by the ditch, lit up by the headlights.
Bending over to retrieve it, her back to the Landcruiser, she felt her short skirt ride way up her thighs. Yikes. She started to straighten, but was suddenly jolted by the feel of two strong hands caressing the backs of her legs.
She sucked in a breath as Leif leaned close to her back and his thumbs massaged erotic circles in her flesh. Higher and higher his hands slipped up under her skirt.
Omigod.
Somehow, she found her voice. “What are you—”
“Shhh.”
He slid his hands around the front of her thighs and slowly drew them upward, over her panties.
Oh. My. God.
"Leif...”
He pulled her bottom firmly against his arousal. “Hmm?”
She gave in with a moan, and leaned back into him. “This is—”
Pulling his hands out from her skirt and skipping upward, he worked them under her T-shirt, stopping just below her aching breasts.
“Not what you want...?” he murmured questioningly.
No. Exactly what she wanted.
Despite everything—the short time, the wrong country, his too-controlling attitude—she wanted him. God, how she wanted him.
From behind, he rubbed his stubbled jaw against her cheek, brushing his moist, parted lips and the very tip of his tongue across her skin. His mustache was like a soft feather, tickling every nerve to alertness.
"I, um…" She struggled to form a coherent thought. "I thought you—" Her words dissolved into a low cry when his hands enveloped her breasts.
