Felipe had learned a long time ago that ‘in theory’ didn’t mean a damn thing. People were unpredictable, especially those under pressure.
His gut told him it was the money the men were after and not Francesca personally. They’d initially followed them from the Governor’s residence. That had to mean they’d been tipped off about the money from a member of the Governor’s personal staff.
But what if he was wrong? What if they wanted both, the cash and a hostage for ransom?
What if they weren’t merely staking them out, waiting for signs of the cash, and were instead only waiting for an opportunity to snatch her? He’d been at the forefront of a hostage situation that had gone wrong. The thought of Francesca being held...
His stomach roiled violently.
He’d watched the light die in Sergio’s eyes and the eyes of his other fallen comrades. He could not allow himself to imagine it draining from Francesca’s eyes too. To protect her and keep her safe he had to keep his focus.
There were too many what-ifs. Far too many.
* * *
Francesca was quite sure she should be biting her nails in terror. That would be a normal reaction to being followed by unknown persons on one of the most dangerous islands in the world.
But she was safe in Aguadilla with Felipe and his army of warriors protecting her. Unlike Caballeros, Aguadilla was a true paradise.
She’d definitely experienced fear when she’d realised the men who’d followed them after her meeting with the Governor had been staking out their Cessna but one look into Felipe’s dark eyes had been all the reassurance she’d needed. He hadn’t needed to spell it out, his eyes had told her everything she needed to know. He wouldn’t let anything happen to her.
Once they’d made the brief walk from the car to the plane without incident, she’d been able to breathe. If they’d wanted to take her, they’d had their chance.
It was the money they were after. The money she’d foolishly agreed to bring in cash into Caballeros.
So, no, it wasn’t fear currently gripping her. It was guilt, and mingled with it a strange form of exhilaration, an awareness of her blood pulsing through her veins. She’d never been so aware of being alive, of the sun’s rays beaming onto her skin, of the soft material of her dress caressing her body, of the sweet scent of the air filling her lungs, all the small things she took for granted in her daily life sharply in focus as if she were experiencing them for the first time.
The closest she had come to this feeling before had been two nights ago in Felipe’s arms.
She followed him through the hotel, marvelling at the strength of his frame, noticed again the slight limp, the only imperfection she could find on this magnificent man whose arms she longed to be in once more.
When they reached their suites, she opened her mouth to thank him and to apologise—again—for all the trouble her actions had brought on them.
Before she could speak, though, Felipe said, ‘Come into mine for a minute while I get my stuff together.’
‘Why? Are we changing hotels?’
‘I’m changing rooms.’ His features darkened. ‘I’m moving into your suite. Until we trace those men and know who they’re working for and what their intentions are, you’re not to be alone.’
Far from sharing the thrill that raced through her at the thought of them sharing a suite, he had the face of a man tasked with guarding a hungry Venus flytrap.
She tailed him into his suite, a mirror image of her own, and took a seat on the sofa, watching as he pulled a large khaki kitbag from a cupboard and put it on the bed. He then walked into his dressing room and returned with an armful of clothes.
‘Do you normally do sleepovers?’ she asked, trying to lighten the atmosphere.
She was rewarded with a biting glare. ‘This isn’t a joke.’
‘I know.’
‘Then don’t act as if it is.’
‘What do you want me to do? Cower in a corner? Hide under a bed? It’s obvious that they’re after the money. All they’re going to do is watch us until they know the cash is here... When is the money due?’
‘Saturday. And it’s obvious, is it? I thought you were training to be a lawyer. There’s no clear evidence for a scenario so we’re going to act as if any scenario is a possibility.’
‘If it’s me they want then they would have tried to take me already.’
‘How do you know that?’ he said through gritted teeth.
‘An educated guess.’
‘But still a guess.’
But she wasn’t saying anything Felipe hadn’t already thought. Whoever these men were, they’d had the opportunity to make a grab for her if it was indeed Francesca they wanted. These were cautious people he was dealing with, not hot-headed druggies. Stupid too. Parking just feet away from their Cessna and waiting for three hours without attempting to give themselves a cover story was the height of stupidity, and stupid people were the most dangerous.
His gut agreed with Francesca that they were after the money.
He could stay in his own suite in good conscience, content that she was safe in hers.
But he couldn’t take the risk. Not with her. Just thinking it was enough for him to break out in a cold sweat.
What if his gut instinct born from almost two decades of risk assessments in dangerous situations was wrong?
This was why one didn’t mix business with pleasure, he thought grimly, storming into the bathroom to get his toiletries. It clouded judgement. It made one doubt oneself.
Like it or not, his attraction to Francesca and the weight in his chest from being around her was accelerating. All his senses were attuned as if she were a magnet they were straining towards.
It was a fight to contain it. To protect her effectively he needed his head clear, a task made harder by the way she kept looking at him. If he could tune her out he would be fine. But he already knew tuning Francesca Pellegrini out was near on impossible.
One night alone in a suite with her he could handle. Any longer than that...
‘I’m taking you back to Pisa in the morning,’ he told her as he placed his toiletry bag with the rest of his kit, bracing himself for the furious protest that was bound to follow.
‘No way,’ she snapped, her nonchalance gone in an instant, just as he’d expected.
‘It’s too dangerous for you here. Pisa is safe. If I could take you back now I would but the quickest I can get a jet here is for early tomorrow morning and there’s no commercial flights leaving any sooner. We’ll leave first thing.’
‘I’m not abandoning the project. No way.’
‘You won’t be abandoning it.’ He would not allow her to set foot in that country again. ‘You’ve got the agreement for the sale and met with the government’s health representative. I’ll get the cash to the Governor. Everything else can be handled by Daniele—he’s the one who’ll be getting the hospital built.’
‘I’m going to the Governor’s party,’ she told him obstinately. ‘If I don’t attend he will see it as an insult and withdraw his permission and the hospital will never be built.’
Felipe swore loudly.
Damn it, she was right.
He thought quickly. The party was four days away. Plenty of time to draw up effective plans to protect both Francesca and the money.
‘I’ll fly you back for the party,’ he said with a curt nod. ‘But we leave here first thing in the morning. You’ll be a sitting target if you stay. I’m taking you home where you’ll be safe and I will have no further argument about it. When I bring you back, you will have nothing to do with the handover of the money. You will do exactly as you’re told.’
He zipped his kitbag with more force than necessary and waited for another onslaught.
He knew he sounded like a tyrant
but didn’t care. The cold fear he’d experienced when he’d recognised that car had been like nothing he’d ever felt before, not even when he’d realised too late he’d led his men into a trap.
But no explosion came.
When he next looked at her, Francesca’s legs were crossed, her fingers laced together, a thoughtful expression on her beautiful face as she studied him. Then her lips curved into a smile and she said, ‘Does this mean we get to share a nightcap now?’
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘I’M HUNGRY.’
A whole hour they’d been in her suite. A whole hour in which Felipe had ignored her existence, setting himself up with his laptop on the bureau in the corner.
For her part, Francesca had sat herself on the huge bed and watched him as studiously as he’d ignored her.
She could sense his awareness of her. It was in his every move, as strong as her awareness of him. The only difference was his resolve to pretend it didn’t exist. His ridiculous rule of no relations with the client meant he was determined to fight it.
He regarded her as his responsibility and was doing everything in his power to keep her in the box he’d cast her in.
Well, she was determined to do everything in her power to pull herself out of that same box.
‘I’m hungry,’ she repeated.
He didn’t look up from his laptop. ‘You’re always hungry. Order room service.’
‘I had room service last night. It’s only seven o’clock. If I spend another evening stuck in here, I’ll get cabin fever. I’m going to get something to eat—are you coming with me?’
Now his eyes darted to hers and narrowed.
‘I’ve agreed to go home in the morning,’ she said sweetly, ‘and I understand why you feel I need your full protection tonight. But I’m not going to be a prisoner in this suite. If you don’t want to eat with me, call one of your men stationed around the hotel to join me instead.’ She knew he would never go for that. She also knew that trying to draw him into conversation while in her suite would be akin to drawing blood from a stone. Without a laptop to hide behind he would be forced to talk to her.
Fury mounted in his returning glare but Francesca kept her gaze steady.
Then his glare turned into a look that could solidify gel. ‘We eat, we come back. No drinking and no dancing. Is that understood?’
‘Why don’t you write it on a piece of paper so I don’t forget? I’ll sign it for you if you like.’
‘Don’t tempt me,’ he growled.
‘I’m doing my very best there.’ She rose to her feet. ‘I’m going to take a shower and make myself look beautiful before we leave. Is that okay with you, my lord and master?’
Certain he was cursing her in Spanish under his breath, Francesca sauntered to the bathroom.
Felipe waited for the click of the bathroom door’s lock. When it didn’t come he swore again. She’d deliberately left it unlocked.
He rubbed a knuckle to his forehead, trying not to think about what was going on behind the unlocked door.
Making herself look beautiful? It wasn’t possible for Francesca to be more desirable than she already was.
The sound of the shower running came through the walls.
Do not think of her naked.
An email pinged into his inbox and he seized on the distraction; a recce report by a team of his men in North Africa in preparation for a business trip by the head of an American petroleum company.
He’d almost finished writing his reply when the bathroom door opened.
He looked up before he could stop himself.
Dios, Francesca had only a towel around herself.
‘Don’t mind me,’ she said demurely, brushing past him and leaving a cloud of fruity scent in her wake, ‘I’m just going to get changed.’
Gritting his teeth to counteract his thickening blood, he looked again at the email he was replying to.
She might as well have fired a bullet into his brain his concentration was so shot.
He blinked to refocus but, even when she disappeared into her dressing room, all he could see were bare slender arms and long black hair that, when wet, fell all the way to the base of her spine, almost touching the curvaceous bottom the white towel hugged so beautifully.
He knuckled his forehead and swore violently. She was taunting him. Tempting him. It was in her every look, her every movement.
The vows he’d made to himself in recent days were tested to the limit when she emerged some time later.
She’d changed into a Chinese-style red dress that was perfectly modest, not displaying any unnecessary flesh, falling to a decent length just above the knees, but...it clung to her every softly rounded curve...
And then he noticed she’d put make-up on. Not a huge amount but enough to make her light brown eyes even more seductive than they already were and her lips even more kissable. She’d blow-dried her hair and it hung like a silk sheet. On her feet were high black strappy sandals.
‘Did you want to take a shower before we go?’ she asked, appraising him with one of the gleams that fired straight into his groin.
He slammed the lid of his laptop down. ‘Let’s get this over with.’
* * *
Francesca swirled the white wine in her glass and watched Felipe study his menu.
He’d looked at her only once since they’d sat down, a piercing glare when she’d ordered her wine. She’d given an unrepentant shrug in return.
They were in one of the hotel’s outdoor restaurants on a patio area that encircled a large swimming pool aglow with soft lighting.
Her intention had been to get Felipe out of the suite and get him talking. Whenever they’d had a proper conversation together they’d proved things could be harmonious between them. She wanted to find that harmony again.
She knew he desired her but what good was that when he fought it every step of the way? She wanted him to desire her company as well, to see her as herself. Francesca. Not Pieta’s little sister. Not Daniele’s little sister. Not the foolish client who’d agreed to a bribe because she hadn’t been thinking straight and who needed saving from herself as well as the bad guys, whoever they were.
She waited until their order had been taken before asking, ‘Where are you going when this job’s done with?’
‘Back to the Middle East.’
‘You’re not going home for a few days or anything?’
‘Why do you want to know?’
‘I’m making conversation. Annoying, I know, but one of us has to make the effort.’
Felipe tore his gaze from the distance he’d fixed on to look at her.
She tilted her head, her features softening. ‘Please, Felipe, can’t we just have a normal conversation like normal people?’
He smothered a sigh. It was far easier for him to ignore the tightening of his loins that occurred just by being around her if he didn’t have to listen to the husky voice that stroked his skin like a caress and stare into the beguiling eyes that had the power to hypnotise him.
Her request wasn’t unreasonable.
He was the one being unreasonable.
She couldn’t help it that every look made the yearning to touch her grow and his self-loathing ratchet up another notch.
‘Do you still live in Spain?’ she probed, taking his silence for assent.
‘No.’
‘Where do you live then?’
‘Nowhere.’
‘Nowhere?’
‘Nowhere,’ he confirmed. ‘I have no home. I am of no fixed abode.’
‘But...’ She smoothed a long strand of hair behind her ear. A teardrop diamond earring winked at him. ‘Where do you call home?’
He shrugged. ‘Wherever I happen to be. I have a bedroom on my plane. H
otels are easy to come by. Everything I own is easily transported and as easily stored.’
She rocked forward slowly, a crease in her forehead. ‘Where do your letters go? Bills? Bank statements? You have to have an address to have a bank account.’
‘Not all banks require it if you know where to ask. My business isn’t a typical one. My work is my life. It has been since I joined the army.’
She pulled a face. ‘Yes, I get that. You’re a macho man who runs around the world protecting the weak and helpless.’
A laugh crept up his throat. ‘The majority of the people I protect are far from weak. It’s generally business people, government officials and aid agencies. People who go to war zones and countries with high crime rates where they know they’re going to be a target. My job is to let them do their jobs in safety.’
‘Why does that stop you having a home of your own? Everyone needs a home.’
He shook his head. This was why he would have preferred to stay in the suite. There, he would have been able to work on his laptop, catch up on reports from his staff around the world, issue orders and directives, and ignore Francesca while ensuring her absolute safety. Here, there was nothing to do but talk while they waited for their food to be cooked and as he’d learned the other night in the hotel’s main restaurant and their late-night conversation the night before, he enjoyed talking to Francesca far more than was good for him.
When they talked she became more than the alluring woman who made his blood thicken to look at her. She became flesh and blood.
The sooner this meal was finished the better.
‘What about family?’ she asked, oblivious to his wish—his need—for her silence. ‘Do you see much of them?’
‘No.’
‘But you do have family?’
Felipe sighed. She didn’t know when to give up. If Francesca made it to the bar she would be an excellent cross-examiner. ‘I have a mother, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins. Yes. Family.’
‘Do you see much of them?’
Protecting His Defiant Innocent Page 9
