Blair swallowed, and drew back from the intense expression in Hunter's eyes.
'You ... you didn't have to treat me the way you did,' she murmured.
'I did what had to be done to keep you safe,' he said. 'You ... you terrorized me .. .'
Hunter laughed softly. 'How the hell was 1 supposed to know you thought I'd abducted you?'
'Look, Mr Hunter .. .'
'Rhys,' he said softly, and then he grinned. 'Surely we're on a first-name basis after all we've shared, Blair.' She felt a swift rush of heat flood her cheeks. 'My- my father said you'd tell me why we can't go back to Rome just yet.'
Hunter sighed and sank back in the leather seat. 'Nothing terribly serious, Blair. There have been labour problems at your father's mills, and-well, sometimes people have strange ideas about the negotiating process. Your father and I agreed that it might be best if you didn't become a bargaining chip.'
Blair caught her bottom lip between her teeth. 'Don't you have ... don't you have things to do back in Rome?' she asked hesitantly. 'I mean, if you're the head of security for my ... my father ... Couldn't you send one of your men to take over for you here?'
'Yes,' he said curtly, 'I'm sure we'd both prefer that.
And you're right-I have any number of things to do. I provide security for several corporations. But Desmond is the only one that has trouble now.'
She took a deep breath. 'Then we'd better get some things straightened out, Hunter,' she said carefully. 'Let me guess,' he said sarcastically. 'You just have to stay at the Excelsior in Florence. My Lamborghini gets swapped for a Mercedes. And you simply must do some shopping on the Via Tornabuoni and the Ponte Vechhio.
Blair drew herself up. 'I want you to remember your function, Mister Hunter. You're here to protect me, and that's fine-as far as it goes. It doesn't mean you have the right to bully me or humiliate me or .. .' .
'Oh, he said softly, 'you want to discuss the rules, is that right?'
'Yes,' she said, 'exactly. I .. .'
'There's only one rule, Blair.' His voice was surprisingly gentle. 'If you value your life, you'll do what I tell you to do. That's the first rule, the last rule, the only rule. Dammit, Blair,' he yelled as she grabbed the handle and wrenched the door open, 'where the hell are you going?'
Where, indeed? she thought grimly as her feet hit the ground. But enough was enough. If Rhys Hunter really thought she was going to go on taking orders from him, he was crazy! Two days of all but clicking her heels each time the man barked a command was more than enough for anybody. He was her bodyguard, dammit, not her captor! He was her employee, when you came right down to it. Well, he would have been if she were really Meryl Desmond. And Meryl certainly wouldn't put up with being treated like a ... a chattel, she thought indignantly as she hurried across the piazza. Let him get used to the idea that she gave the orders around here. Let him ...
She gasped as his hand caught her elbow. 'Let go,' she said through clenched teeth.
'You're making a scene,' he said quietly, pulling her tightly against his side. 'People are staring at us.'
She looked up, noticing the faces watching them for the first time. 'Let them,' she grunted, trying to pull free of his hand. 'If it embarrasses you, that's just too bad.'
'Will you stop being such a damned spoiled brat?' he growled Do you want someone to begin asking questions about you?'
'Yes,' she snapped, tripping along beside him as he marched her through the market stalls. 'I'll tell them' you're mistreating me. I'll tell them .. .'
'What?' he rasped in her ear. 'That you're Meryl Desmond? Meryl Desmond is literally worth her weight in gold to some of these people.'
A tremor of apprehension beat in Blair's throat. 'You're just trying to frighten me,' she said quickly. 'These are honest people .. .'
'Most of them, sure. But all we'd need is one who's not. Or one radical lunatic who wants to make a statement.' He bent his head to hers. 'Kidnapping is as political as it is economic these days,' he whispered.
His breath was warm against her ear, but what he'd said made her shiver. She knew just enough about the insanity of the world to know he was probably right. And she also knew that what she'd gone through since yesterday would pale beside the real thing. Her footsteps slowed, and she slumped against him in defeat as they reached the end of the market.
'All right,' she said wearily, 'you've made your point.
I'll behave.'
He nodded. 'You're damned right you will.' 'Hunter, look, I promise, I'll do as you say.' He eyed her narrowly. 'Until the next time.'
Blair sighed. 'No,' she said, 'until we return to Rome.' His hands clasped her shoulders and he turned her towards him. She lifted her face and her eyes met his. 'It was bad enough being kidnapped by my own bodyguard,' she said in a voice that was supposed to be light. 'I don't think I'd have survived the real thing .. .'
To her horror, her voice trembled and broke. What had begun as laughter ended as a sob. Hunter cursed softly, and his hands slid up her throat and cupped her face.
'Blair .. .'
She waved her hands between them and shook her head. She wanted to tell him she was fine, but the words wouldn't come. Only tears came, streaming down her face. He gathered her against him, holding her while she cried, until finally she drew away and ran the back of her hand across her nose.
'You can't im-imagine what I thought,' she said, laughing and crying at the same time. 'Especially last night, when you ... when you .. .'
'You told me you'd try and get away, dammit.' Hunter shook his head. 'And I needed some rest-we both did. I didn't know what would be facing us today.'
'Yes,' she said, 'it all makes sense-now. But last night, I... I. . .'
'Jesus, Blair, I'm here to protect you, not hurt you.' This time, she managed something that was close to a smile. 'It wasn't your fault, Hunter. I just put two and two together and came up with five. I mean, you're right-you did tell me who you were. You had no way of knowing Mer ... my father hadn't told me to expect you. In fact, now that I think about it, everything you said was really supposed to make me feel better.' Blair sniffed again. 'Do you know that I'm leaking all over your shirt?' she asked with a shaky laugh. 'I'm using you like a giant tissue.'
Hunter pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and put it to her nose. 'Blow,' he said.
She did, noisily, and then she smiled at him. 'I feel so stupid. How could I have misunderstood everything you said? I heard it all, but ...'
'Did you? I said a hell of a lot of things, Blair. And I did a lot of things .. .'
'You don't owe me an apology, Hunter. It was just a terrible misunderstanding, that's all.'
He took the handkerchief from her and moved closer to her. 'You didn't let me finish,' he said softly, dabbing at her damp eyes. 'I'm sorry you were frightened. But I'm not sorry for the things I did. I'd do them again, if I had to. My job is to keep you safe. If that means tying you up, I will. If it means locking you inside the car, I will. If it means taking away your clothes .. .'
Her eyes slid quickly from his. 'Hunter, please ...' 'Blair, listen,' he said roughly, his hands cupping her face and lifting it to his. 'I'll do whatever I have to do to take care of you. Do you understand?'
'Yes,' she said. 'That's why I said it was a misunderstanding. If I'd known what you were really doing, I wouldn't have tried to get away.'
He smiled into her eyes. 'That's not the way I've heard it.'
'Look, you heard wrong. I'm not like that Meryl .. .' Meryl would behave that way, not I, she'd almost said. And it was true. Hadn't Meryl got a kick out of deceiving the reporters that day in Los Angeles? Hadn't she dreamed up the whole Customs caper? Lord only knew what she'd done in the past. .. 'Meryl Blair Desmond isn't a dummy, you know.'
His smile widened. 'No, she's not. In fact, she's not anything like I thought she would be.'
Blair's heart thumped against her ribs. Be careful, she thought, but it was impossible not to ask him the first thing that danced i
nto her mind.
'Is that good or bad?'
His thumbs stroked the smooth skin across her cheekbones. 'What do you think?' he said softly.
Blair smiled. 'I think it proves you should never believe everything you hear.'
His eyes glinted with laughter. 'Including your promise to behave yourself?'
'You have to learn to discriminate between what's true and what's not, Hunter,' she laughed. 'Would a woman who's just told you she spent the past couple of days in fear for her life want to put herself in that position again? Believe me, I've had enough of being kidnapped to last me a lifetime.'
Hunter's eyes searched hers. 'You weren't always afraid, Blair,' he said softly. .
Her blood seemed to grow thick in her veins. There was no need to ask him what he meant, no point in trying to play coy. He was remembering the time she'd kissed her, the times his touch had ignited a passion so intense it had been frightening.
'No,' she said finally, the word a sigh. 'I wasn't.' His eyes darkened as he moved closer to her. 'I want to believe you,' he said huskily.
'Believe me, Hunter,' she whispered. 'I won't run away.'
His eyes searched hers. 'If I trust you and you let me down .. .'
'Yes?' she whispered.
He smiled, but it wasn't a smile like any she'd ever seen before. 'We'd both regret it.'
The hot August air was so still that she could hear the sound of her own breathing. His words hung between them, and suddenly she wondered when they had stopped talking about his role as her bodyguard. Whatever they'd been saying to each other these past minutes, it had nothing to do with that kind of trust. But it had to. That was what this was all about, wasn't it? He was Rhys Hunter and she-she was supposed to be Meryl Desmond,' she was supposed to be ...
If I trust you and you let me down ...
Suddenly, she knew she had to tell him the truth about herself. Now, she thought, before it was too late, before there was no turning back.
'Hunter,' she whispered, but the rest of the words caught in her throat. She was drowning, drowning in the silver flames that burned deep within his eyes.
'Come here,' he murmured. His hands moved to the back of her head, his fingers threading into her hair as he drew her to him. Blair lifted her face to his, her eyes half closed, and he bent towards her and touched his mouth lightly to hers. It was a sweet kiss that lasted no longer than a heartbeat, but she felt the heat of his passion flame through her. His tongue touched hers in a gentle caress, searing her with the sweetness of his mouth, and then it was over. His hands closed on her shoulders and he put her gently away from him.
She swayed unsteadily for an instant, and then her eyes opened. Hunter was smiling at her in a way that made her heart turn over. Blair put her hand to her mouth and touched her fingers to her lips.
'All right,' he said softly. 'We've made our bargain and sealed it.'
'Hunter ...'
She gasped as something butted her lightly in the ribs.
A donkey with a straw hat perched cockily between its long ears shoved its head between them. Hunter laughed as the animal brayed.
'I guess this guy is trying to tell us he witnessed our pact,' he said, running his hand along its velvet muzzle. 'Right, boy?'
The donkey brayed again and Blair smiled. 'What she's trying to tell us is that you promised me something cool to wear. Something like this charming hat, for instance.'
Hunter smiled and clasped her hand in his. 'Come on,' he said. 'We may have to go through the whole market, but we're not leaving Fiorello until we find a hat like our pal's. I promise.'
CHAPTER EIGHT
BLAIR hummed softly as she padded from the scarred wooden table to the sink. Late afternoon sunlight filled the farmhouse kitchen, washing the profusion of fruits and vegetables that spilled across the table-top with soft orange hues. The warbling notes of a songbird drifted through the open door, softening the clash of metal on metal, sounds which accompanied the occasional muttered curses coming from beneath the raised bonnet of the Lamborghini.
She added a handful of white mushrooms to the mounded vegetables in the sink and then pumped in a stream of cold water. She could make ratatouille, she thought idly. That was, if Hunter liked it ...
If Hunter liked it. The thought was so incongruous that it brought her to a complete stop. A few hours ago, what Hunter liked wouldn't have mattered a damn. It still seemed impossible to believe that one simple telephone call had changed so much. But it had, of course. It had changed everything.
God, but it was hot! She brushed the back of her hand across her brow. Lemonade, she thought suddenly. Lemonade had always been her aunt's favorite summertime remedy against the heat. And they'd bought lemons and sugar at the market in Fiorello. Hunter would like lemonade-everybody did. And he had to be parched by now. He'd been peering into the car ever since they'd returned more than an hour ago, the back seat of the Lamborghini laden with produce and groceries and a change of clothing for each of them, all of it topped off by the straw hat Hunter had bought her. Its brim was so broad that it had been impossible to wear it in the car. But he'd been right, it had kept her cooler, and they'd both laughed at the sight of her in it. Blair couldn't remember the last time she'd enjoyed an afternoon as much.
A shadow fell across the room and she looked up.
Hunter stood in the doorway, bare to the waist. There were dark smears on his jeans, and a narrow striping of oily dirt ran over the bridge of his nose and across his cheeks. His face and torso were shiny with sweat.
'Nine million degrees Fahrenheit,' he gasped, leaning against the door frame, 'and that damned car decides to contract a terminal disease.'
'Did you find out what's wrong with it?'
He sighed. 'I'm not certain,' he said, wiping his forearm across his eyes. 'It's either the torsion bar or the ball joints-all I'm sure of is that something's wrong with the suspension.' He took the glass Blair held out to him and smiled gratefully. 'Thanks. I feel as if I've just crossed the Sahara.' She watched as he tossed down the contents. 'Good God, woman, was that lemonade?' he demanded, as a pleased smile spread across his face.
She smiled. 'Good?'
'Good? Perfect is more like it. There are some things you just can't get anywhere but back home. Real hot dogs. Popcorn with just the right amount of butter.' He grinned and held the glass out to her. 'Lemonade that tastes like California and Florida rolled into one. Is there more?'
She laughed as she refilled his glass. 'The compliment’s lovely, but the lemons are Italian.'
Hunter gulped down half a glass and then smiled at her. 'But the woman who made it is American,' he said. 'That makes the difference.'
The simple compliment pleased her beyond reason, and she turned away in confusion. 'So,' she said briskly, 'what do we do now? Can you fix the car?'
He shook his head. 'No way. It needs a garage and a lift and a hell of a lot more expertise than I have. The worst of it is that it's my own damned fault-I should have figured that taking these roads at high speed would be too much to ask of a car like the Lamborghini.' Hunter put the glass down on the table and gestured at the vegetables in the sink. 'Can you take that stuff out of the sink so I can wash?'
'Sure-just let me get that bowl ... OK, it's all yours.' 'Thanks.' She watched as he pumped the handle until a stream of water poured from the spigot. Then he closed his eyes, took a breath, and ducked his head under the water.
'God, that's cold!' he gasped.
Blair laughed. 'But good for you, my Aunt Annie used to say.'
Hunter cocked his head and looked up at her from beneath his thatch of dark, wet hair.
'Now, what would a Desmond know about cold water pumped from a well?' he asked with a grin.
Nothing, Blair thought desperately, but she managed a quick smile. 'You'd be surprised,' she said with offhand indifference. 'Aunt Annie was the black sheep of the family. Nobody talks about her much.'
He laughed as he bent over the sink again and let
the water pour down on his head and shoulders. 'Ah, I see. Well, every family's entitled to one, I guess. Hand me the soap, will you?'
She did as he asked, then leaned back against the table, arms folded across her chest, watching as he lathered his face and neck. That was close, Blair, she thought. You almost forgot the part you're playing. You almost told him you know all about pumps and wells, about the spring house ...
How many hours had she spent during her lonely childhood, playing within its cool stone walls? The spring house stood near the wood pile, behind the farmhouse in Iowa a relic of simpler times and tastes. It was hardly ever used now, but it still contained a working pump that brought up the coldest, clearest water Blair had ever tasted. Even Aunt Annie preferred it to what came out of the stainless steel spigots in the kitchen, although Uncle Edgar insisted the water was exactly the same. It didn't taste the same, though. It tasted of dark, underground caverns and chill streams, just as this water did. And it had made lemonade that tasted almost the same ...
A Flood of Sweet Fire Page 10
