Playing His Dangerous Game

by Tina Duncan

  They were almost at the end of the lesson when Shara folded her arms and shook her head. ‘I can’t do that. I might hurt you.’

  Royce laughed.

  She loved it when he laughed. It was a deep, rumbling sound that created an answering vibration deep inside her.

  ‘You won’t hurt me,’ he denied. ‘I’m bigger and stronger than you are.’

  Oh, yes, he was bigger and stronger—and absolutely gorgeous with it. A fact that had been in her face throughout this session. There was something incredibly sexy about the hard contours of his body that made her not only want to look, but to touch too.

  ‘That may be so, but I’d still prefer to keep practising that kick in the air,’ she said.

  Royce let the cushion he was holding drop to his side. ‘Kicking in the air is OK to get an idea of the movement, but it’s impossible to develop a powerful or useful kick that way. You can only learn how to generate power and speed by kicking something solid.’

  Still she hesitated.

  ‘Come on, Shara. It’s important. Women have stronger legs than arms. I want you to know how to kick properly.’

  She sighed. ‘You’re going to make me do this, aren’t you?’

  He nodded. ‘Yes, I’m going to make you do this. And there’s not a snowball’s chance in hell that you’re going to hurt me, so forget about it.’

  Shara stared into his face. Concern and stubbornness were a potent mixture, she decided.

  For the first time she registered just how much Royce was going out of his way to give her these lessons.

  Her hands dropped to her sides. ‘Do you know I haven’t thanked you for doing this?’

  ‘You don’t have to thank me.’

  ‘Yes, I do. You’re investing time and effort helping me when you could be doing other things.’ She paused for a heartbeat, emotion clogging the back of her throat. ‘It’s a long time since anyone has done that for me.’

  Royce frowned. ‘I find that very hard to believe.’

  ‘I don’t know why you should. Dad is a workaholic who can barely give me the time of day. Steve is a taker not a giver. The only thing he’s ever given me is grief, and I hardly think that counts.’

  Royce’s frown had deepened. ‘I’m sure you have friends that—’

  Shara waved a hand. ‘Steve made it very difficult for me to make new friends, and my old crowd—the ones that I was at the club with the other night … Well, let’s just say I’ve outgrown them. Anyway, I just want you to know that I appreciate what you’re doing for me.’

  Royce stared at her long and hard. ‘You’re welcome. You can show your gratitude by kicking me.’

  Shara laughed. ‘That’s sneaky.’

  ‘I know. That’s something you should remember about me. I’ll use any tactic to get my own way. So—into position.’

  Shara waited until Royce was holding the cushion braced in front of him and then she kicked.

  Royce lowered the cushion. ‘What a wussy kick! Surely you can do better than that?’

  Shara stared at him, noting the teasing glimmer in his eyes and the half-smile tilting his lips.

  She leaned her weight on her back foot and then flashed him a smile. ‘You want harder? I’ll give you harder.’

  Pushing off her back foot, she snapped her leg forward and kicked the cushion as hard as she could.

  Royce absorbed the impact, his muscles bunching as he braced his body. ‘That was excellent! Whoops!’ he said as she stumbled against him.

  She’d kicked so hard the momentum had carried her forward—straight into Royce.

  She landed against his chest.

  His arms closed around her.

  She looked up.

  Their eyes met.

  Romance novels were full of what they called ‘moments frozen in time’.

  Shara had never quite understood what they meant.

  Now she did.

  The world faded. Shrank until nothing existed but the two of them.

  There was no past.

  There was no future.

  There was just this one moment in time.

  And then it was gone.

  Just like that.

  As if the present had been snuffed out and the world had restarted with them standing several feet apart.

  This time there was no question about who had moved first.

  Royce had.

  He’d turned away, breaking eye contact and shattering the spell that had bound them together for that brief instant.

  What Shara found so disconcerting was the fact that she hadn’t moved.

  She’d just stood there.

  Waiting to be kissed.

  Because certainly that was what had been about to happen.

  Why had she just stood there, waiting for him to kiss her as if that was what she wanted?

  Because it wasn’t.

  Was it …?

  Her breath hitched and her heart thumped when she realised that she wasn’t quite so sure of her answer to that question as she should be.

  By mutual consent their karate sessions and the break they shared together afterwards became a daily event.

  Shara looked forward to it almost as much as she dreaded it.

  ‘I’m enjoying the karate more than I ever imagined I would,’ Shara told Royce several days later. ‘I didn’t think I would, you know.’

  ‘Why not?’

  Shara shrugged. ‘I guess because I’ve never exercised much. But I like the way it makes me feel.’

  The karate workouts had given her a new-found appreciation for working her body. Everything from the feel of her muscles expanding and contracting to the sense of co-ordination she felt as the different parts of her body moved in sync.

  There was also a sense of achievement associated with mastering a new movement or refining her technique. It was a feeling she hadn’t felt since high school, when she’d done well at exams.

  ‘I know what you mean. After a session I always feel more—well, balanced for want of a better word.’

  Shara nodded her agreement. ‘And you were right. I do feel more confident. Not quite ready to take on ten men at one time, but I think I could get out of trouble should the need arise. Given what I went through with Steve, that’s a pretty big deal.’

  ‘I’m sure it is. You should be really proud of the progress you’ve made,’ Royce said, flopping down on the sofa. ‘You’re doing amazingly well for a beginner.’

  ‘Thanks. You’ve made it easy. You’re a good teacher.’

  And he was.

  He was patient and supportive. When she was struggling to master a new move he worked with her, using encouragement and praise instead of criticism and disapproval to achieve the desired results.

  ‘I try.’

  That was something else she’d noted about Royce. He was modest. Although he was successful, and had the kind of ultra-confidence that oozed out of every pore, he didn’t have a big head.

  ‘You do more than try. You succeed.’ Shara hesitated a moment, and then said, ‘I wanted to be a teacher, you know.’

  ‘No, I didn’t know. What stopped you?’

  ‘My father. He thought it was a waste of time.’

  Royce was clearly surprised. ‘Why? I would have thought he’d be pleased you’d chosen such a worthwhile career.’

  She laughed, but there was no humour in it. ‘The only career a woman should have, according to my father, is to be a wife and mother.’

  Royce was so clearly gobsmacked that it took him several minutes to answer. ‘You have to be kidding. That is …’

  ‘What? Archaic? Primitive? Antiquated? All of the above?’

  ‘Definitely all of the above.’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t know what to say.’

  ‘I know the feeling. That’s exactly how I felt when my father started talking about it. He explained how important it was for me to make the right choice. He wanted me to marry someone from a wealthy and reputable family. Someone who would help him expand
his business empire. In other words he wanted to marry me off as some kind of a business transaction. He even had a list of potential candidates. He didn’t care what I wanted. As far as he was concerned he knew best. He always thought he knew what was best for me.’

  ‘So that’s why you married Brady,’ Royce said thoughtfully, phrasing the remark as a comment rather than a question.

  Shara barked out a laugh. ‘I’m afraid not. Steve doesn’t come from a wealthy or well-known family.’

  ‘So he was an act of rebellion?’ Royce asked.

  She shook her head. ‘Nothing so dramatic, I’m afraid. If I’d wanted to rebel I’d have gone to university like I wanted to. My mother left me a trust fund. I’m sure the trustees would have released the funds for an education, even if it was against my father’s wishes.’

  ‘So you married for love instead of duty?’

  Shara frowned as she thought about that. ‘If you’d asked me that at the time I’d have said yes, but now I’m not so sure. If you want to know the truth I don’t think I ever loved Steve.’ She was saddened by the admission. It was another of the many mistakes she’d made. ‘I think I latched on to him because I was desperately looking for a way to escape my father. What I didn’t realise was that I was jumping straight from the frying pan into the fire.’

  ‘I can’t argue with that. Brady is obviously some piece of work.’

  Shara scratched the side of her head. ‘Do you know I never realised how similar Dad and Steve are until just now? Obviously Steve is a far more extreme case than my father, but they both like using threats to get their own way. Do you remember that first night, when you brought me home from the club? You said that my father had asked you to tell me that while I’m living under his roof I’m to follow his rules. He said that so often when I was growing up that I got sick of hearing it.’

  ‘I’m sure he meant well,’ Royce said tactfully.

  Shara shrugged. ‘Maybe he did. I’m not sure. All I know is that he made me miserable in the process.’

  Shara stared at Royce. He was so different from the other men in her life.

  He wasn’t a bully. He didn’t browbeat her to get his own way. Nor did he take pleasure in putting her down.

  But, much as she liked and respected him for those and other qualities he possessed, there was still one thing she couldn’t get past.

  He liked things done his way.

  Royce had told her so himself—more than once.

  On the night he’d brought her home from the club he’d told her that he had to have full control, and during one of their karate lessons he’d admitted that he’d use any tactic to get his own way.

  Well, she’d had enough control to last her a lifetime. She wanted the freedom to make her own decisions.

  Which was precisely why she had to ignore her attraction to Royce.

  There was only one role she wanted him to play in her life—and that was her bodyguard.

  On Friday they were so absorbed in their lesson—and in each other, although Royce didn’t want to think about that—that they worked for almost two hours.

  ‘OK. I think that’s enough for the day,’ Royce said, finally calling a halt. ‘You’ve done well.’

  Her arms dropped to her sides. ‘I could do with a glass of water. Do you want one?’

  Royce nodded and followed her to the kitchen. As usual, he enjoyed watching her move about.

  The phone rang. Royce reached out a hand and picked up the receiver. ‘Hello.’

  When there was no response he said hello again. His answer was silence.

  Out of the corner of his eye he could see Shara watching him.

  These phone calls happened every one or two days. If he answered there was always silence. But there was no mistaking the waves of animosity coming down the line.

  If Shara answered the response was mixed. Sometimes there was silence. Sometimes there was the traditional, if uncreative, heavy breathing. At other times she was hit by a barrage of abuse that made her slam the phone down.

  Royce had discreetly had the phone records checked. All the phone calls came from payphones. Shara didn’t recognise the voice, but the tinny sound suggested whoever was calling was using a voice-changer.

  ‘If that’s you, Brady, then listen up. Shara doesn’t want to see you. She doesn’t even want to talk to you. So leave her alone.’

  This time he didn’t wait for a response. He slammed the phone down with the secret hope that it would give the other man a headache.

  ‘He’s never going to give up,’ Shara said, plonking a glass of water down in front of him.

  Every time one of these calls arrived the shadows reappeared in her eyes—something that made Royce more and more angry.

  Royce grasped her hand. ‘Of course he is. Don’t let these calls get you down. That’s exactly what Brady wants. Don’t give him the satisfaction.’

  She squared her shoulders. ‘You’re right. I’m done with letting him have power over me.’

  Royce grinned. ‘That’s my girl.’

  Shara nodded and took a sip of her drink. Royce watched her lips close around the glass. Watched her head tilt back. Watched the movement of her throat as she swallowed.

  Dragging his eyes away, Royce took a long slug of water.

  ‘I have a question for you,’ Shara said.

  ‘Shoot.’

  ‘How do my appointments fit into your super-duper protect Shara strategy?’

  Royce put his glass of water down. ‘What sort of appointments are we talking about?’

  ‘I do charity work.’

  She might as well have said that she did magic tricks. Or rode to the moon on a bicycle.

  Neither was more astonishing than what she’d actually said.

  Although why he should be so surprised he wasn’t sure. Plenty of women did charity work. He just hadn’t figured Shara would be one of them.

  It was dawning on him—slowly—that the image of her he had fixed in his head was wrong. Cracks the size of elephants were appearing in his mental vision.

  Why he hadn’t seen it sooner Royce had no idea. The truth had been staring at him almost from the beginning.

  The courage Shara had demonstrated in leaving Brady and trying to deal with his harassment on her own touched him deeply. It wasn’t often that you met someone—man or woman—who had to face the kind of things that Shara had had to face.

  He’d also thought she was spoilt.

  Huh!

  What a laugh that was.

  Perhaps financially she’d been spoilt, but she’d been starved of her father’s attention which was far worse. And in a clear demonstration of her inner strength neither of those things had had a detrimental effect on her character.

  Royce realised he was guilty of pigeonholing Shara without any evidence to back up his opinion. He’d made a superficial, not to mention sweeping comparison of Fiona and Shara’s backgrounds and immediately shoved them into the same category.

  But he’d been wrong—on all fronts.

  To date Shara had proved herself to be stubborn and determined, honest and open.

  Royce stared at her and realised Shara was still talking. He tuned back in to the conversation just in time to hear her say, ‘On Monday I have a meeting with some people regarding the planning for a charity ball which is their main fund-raising event of the year. It’s not the kind of thing I’d like to cancel.’ She paused for a heartbeat. ‘This particular cause is close to my heart.’

  Royce gave her an enquiring look.

  ‘My mother died of ovarian cancer,’ she said huskily.

  ‘I’m sorry. How old were you?’

  ‘Twelve.’

  His heart contracted. ‘There’s never a good time to have a parent die, but I imagine twelve is one of the more difficult ages.’

  Shara nodded. ‘Especially for a girl. Mum and I were close. Her death left a huge gap in my life. My father didn’t know what to do with me.’

  Given what he knew of
Gerard Atwood, Royce could imagine that a grieving near-teenager would have been a challenge for him.

  ‘Well, there’s no need to cancel. I’ll simply come with you.’

  Shara was frowning.

  ‘What is it?’ Royce asked.

  She shrugged. ‘How will I explain you being with me?’

  ‘You can explain it however you like. Although I suspect telling the truth will only make you—and them—uncomfortable. Why don’t you just say I’m a friend who’s going to lend a hand?’ He paused for a moment. ‘It’s not too far from the truth, you know. I do a bit of volunteering myself.’

  ‘You do?’

  He nodded. ‘The Royce Agency runs a free anti-bullying programme for schools called Kid Power.’

  ‘Because you were bullied as a kid?’

  He nodded. ‘It’s a cause close to my heart—just as the ovarian cancer charity is close to yours.’

  ‘Well, in that case I’d love to have you come along.’

  ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t rather wait outside?’ Shara asked on Monday, stopping on the pavement outside the building that was their intended destination.

  ‘I can’t do that,’ Royce said. ‘Up close and personal, remember?’

  After their recent karate lessons Shara was beginning to think they were already too up close and way, way too personal.

  ‘Royce, it’s an office building. I’ll be surrounded by people. What could happen to me here?’

  ‘Plenty.’ Royce folded his arms. ‘Brady could have followed us here.’

  ‘But he didn’t, did he? I noticed the way you kept on checking the rearview mirror on the way here.’

  The fact that he was so vigilant was reassuring. He really was a consummate professional. But above and beyond that she also knew he was a caring person who would do whatever he had to do to protect her.

  ‘I don’t think he did,’ Royce said. ‘But protecting someone is about not taking chances. And don’t forget I thought I saw him watching the house a couple of days ago.’

  Shara hadn’t forgotten. Even though Royce wasn’t one hundred percent sure it had been Steve—the guy had been wearing a baseball cap, sunglasses and an oversized jersey—it had still been depressing news.

  Royce waved to the building behind them. ‘There are multiple entrances and exits in this place. I can’t cover all of them.