by Jill Shalvis
Please, Terry, please be okay.
With a soft oath, Rick lifted his feet off the table, setting his chair back down. “Here.” He shoved the cup of water beneath her nose. “Drink.”
She sniffed and shook her head.
“Damn it, not again. Drink.”
“No.”
“You just said you were thirsty, and now you’re not? Women!”
“This has nothing to do with my being female.”
“Then what’s your problem?”
“What is my problem! I worked sixty hours this week, and now it is the middle of the night and I am so tired I can hardly see straight. Oh, and yes, I am handcuffed to a kidnapper.”
“I am not a kidnapper.”
He looked genuinely horrified, which made her let out a short laugh. “Right. A terrorist, then. I am handcuffed to a terrorist. My apologies.”
“And I’m not a terrorist!”
“Then let me go.”
“Tell me where Terry is.”
“So you can terrorize her for the jewels you think she embezzled? She is dead! Dead, I told you.” Her voice cracked on that last word and she shut her mouth. Then she let out a long breath, her shoulders sagging as exhaustion came on like a freight train. She looked at her feet, her bare toes void of toenail polish and toe rings—as Terry’s would not have been. “And I feel very alone, if you want the truth. Alone and...” She wouldn’t say frightened, she wouldn’t admit that much.
Slowly he uncoiled and came to his full height, forcing her to stand, as well. Slowly he looked her up and then down, reminding her that she was not dressed, not even close.
Her nipples hardened, though she wasn’t cold. She crossed her arms over her chest, but he’d noticed, he’d definitely noticed, and something in his eyes shifted, warmed. Even his voice sounded husky. “I’m not a kidnapper, and definitely not a terrorist,” he said in a tone that made her knees wobbly. “I’m not a stranger, either. I introduced myself.”
Standing so close to him, so close she could see the light reflecting in the depths of his spectacular green eyes, could see his long, dark lashes and a small but jagged scar over one brow, she felt an odd unfurling in her belly. A heat.
She should step back, wanted to step back, but was unwilling to let him see he could wrangle a reaction from her.
Even if she didn’t understand that reaction.
It was the oddest thing—she was quite literally bound to him, but she felt...free. It had been so long, so very long, since she’d been able to let herself go, to react as she wanted.
Actually, she’d never let herself go. Had never let herself react, except in a way that had been completely acceptable to her family.
A little stunned at the realization, she stared at him.
Frowning, he lifted their joined hands, clearly misinterpreting her expression. “I would let you go for the truth. It’s important.”
“I should tell you everything I know, while you tell me exactly nothing.” It felt good to say what was on her mind, to not hold back. “That is fair, right?”
He was not nearly as pleased with her “freedom” as she was. “Are you twisting this all around on purpose? I told you I wouldn’t hurt you. And I wouldn’t hurt your sister.”
“No, actually you never did tell me that last part.”
He stared at her for a long moment. “I beg your pardon. Let me tell you now. I would never hurt your sister. Are you admitting she’s alive?”
He’d very nearly caught her, hadn’t he? He was very, very good.
She would have to be better. “I am admitting nothing. And neither have you.”
He inhaled deeply, then slowly let out his breath. “Okay. Fine. You win. The man who hired me to find Terry, he’s the man in the picture I showed you.” He took the Polaroid out of his pocket with his free hand and held it out.
She grabbed it, looked down at it into her sister’s happy face and felt her heart crack. “This is at Carnival.”
“Yes, a year and a half ago.”
“I was in London.”
“And she was with him.”
“She did not have a boyfriend, she never did. She enjoyed men, too much to stick with just one.”
“They were lovers.”
“Only for one night then.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “Only for the one night. He woke up and she was gone, without even sharing her name. ‘It’s all in the eyes’ was all she’d told him when he asked.”
“Terry truly believed the eyes were mirrors to the soul.”
Rick rewarded her with a smile that quite simply stole her breath. Meu Deus, but she hoped he didn’t use that weapon often.
He looked at the picture again. “Mitch went back to the States the next day, but he’s never forgotten your sister. Things were busy in his life and work for a while and he was injured on the job. But now he’s free, and he wants to find her.”
He wasn’t looking at her, and she knew there was more, much more. “To sleep with her again?” she asked.
“I think he wants more than that.” He met her gaze then. “It seems very important to him.”
Could he be distracting her with sentiment to get information?
Would he?
His eyes were deep and full of mysteries. His face blank. He was a ruthless, dangerous man, not to be trusted. She looked at the picture again, too. Terry and the man were gazing into each other’s eyes with more than just the lust of the Carnival and good drink. There was affection with all that heat, and seeing it, when Terry hadn’t been overly fond of sharing her heart, made Nina want to believe.
It would feel good to have an ally in this terror, but to admit that seemed weak.
Yet even more disturbing was the fact that while she was truly terrified for Terry, she was not terrified for herself. Even shackled to this man and half-naked, she wasn’t afraid of him.
How horribly revealing.
“What?” he asked quietly, tipping up her chin with his thumb when she wouldn’t look at him. “What are you thinking?”
That he was devastatingly sexy. And that she couldn’t, shouldn’t be having such thoughts about a man who’d stop at nothing to get what he wanted.
She shouldn’t be having those thoughts period! She was not a woman prone to such things as—as heat and need and lust. She never had been. “Nothing.”
“Oh, I think it is something.”
She had to smile at his formal speech. He was mocking her again. “Now you are a mind reader?”
“I’m a bounty hunter, same thing.”
“Have you always hunted people for a living?”
“Have you always so neatly avoided talking about yourself?”
“It is a skill.”
“See?” He shook his head. “You’re good. Very good. Was your sister as good as you?”
“Not nearly, but only because she liked to talk about herself.” Nina found herself smiling with fond memories. “Her zest for life and her way with the business were legendary. Everyone at All That Glitters misses her. I miss her.” Sadness crept back. “All those hopes and dreams of hers, left unfulfilled.”
“What about your hopes and dreams?”
Nina looked up at him, startled. “What?”
He leaned even closer, the sound of metal on metal reminding her they were still joined.
She’d actually nearly forgotten.
He lifted his free hand and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. The touch of his finger on her skin sent a shiver racing down her spine.
“All you talk about is Terry,” he said. “Her life, her dreams.”
“They were important.”
“Yes. But what about your life? Your dreams? Surely you have some for yourself other than living in the shadow of your sister.”
No one—not her father, not her own sister, not a single friend—had ever asked Nina about her hopes and dreams, not once.
That this man, a perfect stranger, a professional bounty hunter to wh
om she meant nothing more than a means to his paycheck, would ask... It stunned her.
He stunned her.
“What floats your boat, Nina? What is it that makes you want to get up in the morning?”
“Why are you asking?”
“Because we’re here.” He lifted their joined hands. “Stuck together—”
“Your own doing.”
“—and if you don’t feel like telling me what I want to know, I might as well learn about you. What’s your passion?”
Certain she couldn’t have heard right, she gaped at him.
“And don’t tell me you don’t have one, I won’t believe you.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re a very passionate woman.”
That he thought so was a ridiculous compliment. But he was greatly mistaken.
And still waiting for her to answer him.
“My passion?” She lifted her shoulders. “I suppose designing jewelry.”
“And you’re good at it.”
She used to be, before the added burden of the business side of All That Glitters. “I could be better, if—”
“Nope.” He wagged a finger in her face. “Now, see, right there is where you went wrong.”
“Excuse me?”
“There shouldn’t be any ifs. Not with hopes and dreams. There should only be when.”
“Yes, you are right. But—” But she’d been too worried about her sister to be good at anything in a long time. “What about you?”
His eyes shuttered. “This isn’t about me.”
No, it wasn’t, though suddenly she wanted it to be. If only things were different, if only she could trust this man to help her....
Could she?
And wasn’t that just the problem.
She was too afraid to take the chance.
CHAPTER SIX
THE HANGING CLOCK on the wall of the living room chimed twice.
Two in the morning.
Rick had gone much longer without sleep. Hell, he’d gone days while on a case, but he doubted Nina had. There were delicate purple splotches beneath her eyes, and she looked dead on her feet.
He shoved the unwanted sympathy right out of his head. He didn’t care if she was tired, he wasn’t here to baby-sit.
He needed answers. And the deeper he got, the more he learned about the reckless, eccentric Terry and the willowy, softer Nina, the more he wanted those answers.
That bothered him.
“Okay, here’s the deal,” he told a nodding off Nina, deciding to play hardball so that she’d co-operate and he could get the hell on with it. “You know I’m not going anywhere until I learn where Terry is.”
She rolled her eyes upward. “Terry is—”
“Dead, yes. But since you won’t look me in the eyes when you say it, you’ll excuse me for not believing you.”
Her eyes sparked but she didn’t say another word.
“Fine. Be stubborn.” Purposely, he wiggled the handcuffs, not enjoying her look of unease as much as he’d have thought. “I have all night.”
“The night is nearly over.”
“Which reminds me...” He sat on the couch—a pleasingly long, wide one—and jerked just hard enough on the handcuffs that she was forced to sit next to him. “I’m tired.”
Nina’s eyes widened. “You are not going to sleep.”
“That is exactly what I plan on doing.” He lifted his hands to the buttons on his shirt.
She let out a squeak and tugged on his manacled hand. “What are you doing?”
He continued unbuttoning his shirt with his free hand, though he had to admit, he’d enjoyed it more with her fingers brushing his chest. He shrugged out of the garment, letting it hang on the handcuffs still hampering them both.
She stared at his bared chest and shoulders, mouth hanging open just a little, and the sight of her speechless over his body did something to his gut.
Okay, not his gut.
The area due south of his gut.
Her eyes all but devoured him, and he couldn’t believe how arousing that was. What was with him? He’d been wanted by a woman before, more times than he could remember. He knew he had a shape that pleased the opposite sex, and normally he wasn’t above using that to his advantage.
But not here, not with this woman who looked as if maybe she was far more innocent than he could imagine. It wasn’t his thing, playing with a woman who believed in love and hearts and roses and happily ever after.
Damn it, all he’d wanted was to intimidate her into speaking. “You’re staring,” he said unkindly.
“Because you are not wearing a shirt.”
“That’s what happens when one removes it,” he agreed. “They become shirtless.”
“It is inappropriate.”
He had to laugh. God, she was so formal. And so shockingly, madly, wildly sexy—without even knowing it. “I hate sleeping in clothes.”
She made a strangled sound, then pointed to his pants. “Those are staying on.”
“You say such sexy things, Nina. You’d better watch it, or I’ll get the wrong idea.”
It took her a moment to realize he was kidding, and her frown deepened.
She didn’t take her eyes off him.
He realized how aware of her he suddenly was. How he noticed the slight flare in her gaze, and the way she nervously licked her lips. How her hands fisted, as if she were having trouble keeping them to herself.
It wasn’t often he let himself fantasize. Mostly he needed his mind sharp and focused. But he was fantasizing now, in a big way, and it was definitely hampering his thinking.
He scooted farther down the couch, trying to get comfortable, trying to shut her out of his mind—yeah, right!—and sighed with pleasure at the soft, cozy cushions. He closed his eyes, considering himself lucky. He’d slept in some real sleaze buckets while on previous cases. “Maybe when I wake up, you’ll feel more like sharing info about your sister and her whereabouts.”
“I told you all I know.”
“I doubt that.”
“You are really not leaving until...?”
“Not until.”
“But—”
Opening his eyes, he waited with a raised brow, but she only glared at him. Shrugging, he kicked off his shoes and lay back, stuffing a throw pillow beneath his head. When he put up his feet, Nina let out a disbelieving huff. He smiled as he stretched out, eyes closed, knowing she was sitting stiffly at his hip, attempting to not touch him any more than absolutely necessary.
A long moment passed, during which he imagined her watching him breathe.
And even that simple action became difficult.
He wondered if she’d noticed his erection straining at the fly of his pants, or how he’d fisted his hands with the tension coursing through him.
“Rick.” The word was choked out, and when he looked at her, she was blushing.
Yeah, she’d noticed.
Only it wasn’t flattery he saw in those dark, dark eyes so solemnly watching him, but...fear?
Well, hell. “Oh, lie down,” he said far more gruffly than he’d intended.
“But—”
“Lie down.”
She held herself rigidly at his side, her bare thigh brushing his bare side. He could feel her warmth, the soft creaminess of her skin, and was already cursing himself for a fool.
“It is not that easy, you—you Neanderthal!” she snapped. “Maybe you are used to being hand-cuffed to different people every night, maybe you even like it, but for me...this is difficult to say the least.”
Lord, she was going to talk all night, and if he didn’t shut his eyes and put himself into dreamland, he was going to have a hell of a time here. His body was already nearly shaking with the sexual tension holding him captive, and he didn’t like it. “First of all,” he said, “if you mean using whatever tactic at my disposal to get the job done, then fine, I’m a Neanderthal.”
“This—” she held up their joined hand
s “—is illegal.”
“Give me a break, we’re in Brazil. Country of sinners.”
“Let...me...go. I want—”
“Look, unless you’re going to tell me where your sister is, how about you don’t talk?”
She opened her mouth to retort to that—hotly, he was quite certain—so he put a finger to her soft lips, nearly groaning at the feel of her. He thought of all the uses he could find for that mouth and then did groan, his hips actually arching of their own accord. “I mean it, Nina.”
Her gaze jerked up to his. “You are...” Her face went even redder as she resolutely stared at him. “You know.”
“Sporting a hard-on? Yes. Why, yes, I am.”
Her gaze again darted down his body, past his chest, right to the point of impact.
He got even harder. “Okay, this is how this is going to work. Lie down. Close your eyes. And shut up.”
He himself did all three, and waited with bated breath, silently begging her to do the same.
But even he had to admit, if the situation was reversed, he’d have a hell of a time doing as he’d ordered her.
“You will not...touch me?”
“Believe me,” he said, eyes still closed. “Sleep is all I’m after.” Liar, liar, pants on fire.
“I wish I knew you,” she whispered.
“You know what you need to. I told you I wouldn’t hurt you.”
“Actually, I believe that part,” she said, surprising him into opening his eyes. “What I want to believe is that you are an honorable man. That you are a man who would not...take advantage of a woman like me.”
“A woman like you?”
She blushed again, but kept her eyes on his. “Inexperienced.”
Aw, hell, he didn’t want to know this. Didn’t want her looking at him as if maybe he could be someone he wasn’t.
Couldn’t she see he was a man for hire, and nothing more?
That he would never, ever again get personally involved in a case? That he’d never let anyone touch him on the inside, because his emotions were gone? He’d buried them good and deep when Mary Jo had died, so much so that he’d been certain they no longer even existed.
Until tonight.
Normally, being with a woman for longer than it took to mutually satisfy each other made him claustrophobic. But perversely, the more time he spent with Nina, the less he could seem to resist her charms. Truth was, since he first saw her, he’d been tempted to turn his bounty hunter skills on himself and find the real Rick.
