Roarke followed her directions, and, as the hot air cooled, her breathing started to return to normal. Beside her, Roarke drove smoothly, but she noted how every few seconds he checked the rearview mirror.
“Is anything wrong?” She wondered if she’d been worried about the wrong thing. While she still didn’t trust Roarke, perhaps she’d overlooked an even larger threat.
“I’m not sure. We may have picked up a tail.” He gave her the bad news as if he was reporting the weather. Nothing in his demeanor changed. Not his posture, his expression or his tone of voice. Did the man have nerves of steel?
She started to turn around to look for their tail.
“Use the side-view mirror. Watch, I’m going to change lanes. See if that silver sedan does, too.”
Sure enough, when Roarke switched lanes, the other car followed, but remained three cars back. He glanced over at her and the gun she still held. “You might want to put the safety back on and refasten your seat belt.”
“You need to drive faster?”
He nodded. “You aren’t going to shoot me for not following your directions while I try and lose this guy, are you?”
Without comment, she did as he asked. But she kept the weapon firmly in hand as Roarke swung a quick right, a left, another left and then pulled behind a building and into someone’s private covered parking area.
“I don’t know if the men chasing us have access to satellite surveillance but if they do, the roof should prevent an eye in the sky from spotting us.”
“A satellite can pick out a car?” she asked, appreciating that once again his knowledge might have saved her.
“Those birds can read a license plate. But it’s difficult to get priority usage. I’m hoping we aren’t that high up on the food chain to warrant that kind of a close look.”
She saw the silver sedan drive by and realized she’d been holding her breath. Slowly, she forced herself to let it go. If not for Roarke’s quick thinking, those men would have caught them. Caught her.
Still frightened, but trusting Roarke more every minute, she leaned back and wondered what she’d do if she were alone. Drive straight to the police station? Call her folks, who were out of town, for help?
Twenty minutes later, Roarke stopped at a convenience store and she called her friend at work. Her friend wasn’t coming home tonight and offered Alexandra her house at the beach. Glad that Bonnie wouldn’t be there since she no longer wanted to chance putting any of her friends in danger, she memorized where Bonnie kept the key. Third flower pot to the right of the front door.
At her friend’s beachfront home, Alexandra could relax. She hoped the ocean-view room with a terrace and the soothing sounds of the waves lapping on Jacksonville’s white sand would restore her nerves.
Alexandra returned to Roarke without fear. “All set.
Bonnie’s spending the night with her boyfriend.”
“You’re not afraid to be alone?”
“Why should I be? No one will know where I am.”
And she could work. Make up for the lost hours this afternoon. She had to get her mind back on business. Tomorrow the second-story concrete would be poured on her building. City inspectors would check to ensure quality control, and she didn’t want anything to go wrong.
As she glanced at the man driving the car, she needed to figure out what to do. After spending an afternoon with him, she believed her brother really had hired Roarke Stone to protect her. But she intended to check on Roarke’s credentials and speak with her brother to see if he had any idea why anyone would be after the papers he’d sent.
When Roarke pulled up to the beach house, she still held the gun tightly gripped in her hand. He shut off the car’s engine. “You can keep the gun tonight, but I suggest you keep it out of sight.”
“Thanks.”
“For what?”
She held up the weapon. “For this.” She’d never understood why women didn’t like guns. Sure they were noisy. And they were only as good as the person using them. But they were a tool that equalized the sexes. And she felt safer for having the weapon, safer because she knew how to use it.
Jake’s ruse to avoid the tail worked and she was grateful that her brother had sent a bodyguard who understood the enemy’s modus operandi. The tiny house with its steeply pitched roof and hurricane shutters sat back from the road among sand dunes planted with sea oats. While the yard butted almost right up to neighbors on either side, Alexandra knew from having stayed there often as a guest that the magnificent oceanfront view and powdery white sand beach gave visitors a feeling of endless vistas and privacy.
Jake walked beside her up the white-brick sidewalk. Several women sunbathing on a neighbor’s porch gave Jake’s perfect good looks second glances. Stares.
He noticed, but it didn’t deter him from politely holding the flowerpot for her while she retrieved the key. Nor did it keep him from scanning the tiled hallway as she unlocked the door.
He motioned her back. “Wait here.”
Two minutes later he returned. “It’s clear. You sure you don’t want me to spend the night?”
“Very sure.”
Let him spend the night? No way. She wouldn’t get a lick of work done. She wouldn’t be able to check out his credentials. And no way would she sleep a wink if he remained under the same roof. Besides, the bungalow only had one bedroom and Roarke wouldn’t fit on the couch.
He lifted the sunglasses up from his nose onto his forehead. Blue eyes searched hers, shooting slivers of heat to her core. “You aren’t frightened?”
Right now her primary fear was her reaction to this man. She didn’t like her inability to stop noticing how good he looked. She didn’t want to think about him—especially when she really, really didn’t like him—especially when she recalled that sizzling kiss that had fused her brain cells and that definitely shouldn’t ever have happened.
She escorted him to the door and firmly led him over the threshold. “No one knows I’m here. I’ll be fine.”
He stopped and looked at her. “Lock this door behind me and don’t open it for anyone. Don’t go anywhere.”
“Like I have a car.”
Her response, automatically flippant, concealed her amazement. She may have kissed the man, but she really didn’t know him. Yet, for the first time she realized that his concern for her was genuine. He didn’t want to leave her alone in case she needed his protection. There was more to him than a pretty face, a big strong bod and a working brain. He cared, and she hated the fact that she liked knowing he cared.
“You won’t need your car. I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning at…?”
“Five.”
And by then she’d have her galloping emotions back under control. She’d have sorted out the danger. And she’d have arranged for another bodyguard to replace Roarke Stone.
THREE HOURS LATER she settled on the sofa with a glass of chardonnay, more perplexed than ever. She hadn’t been able to contact her brother Jake and couldn’t bring herself to leave the first message between them since they were children on an impersonal voice mail. She reminded herself to try again in the morning.
Next, she’d verified Roarke’s credentials, and Alexandra was no longer sure she should replace him. She’d called a reporter friend she’d known in high school and Linda had done a quick computer search on Roarke Stone.
He was ex-CIA! Apparently very highly thought of. He’d been the youngest station chief and then had operated a specialized counter-terrorism group. There was no mention of a wife or family. And he’d been investigated and cleared after some trouble with an African embassy. Roarke had quit shortly after the incident and dropped out of the news.
His bodyguard service was relatively new. So new he didn’t have a listing in this year’s phone book. She dialed information and an operator confirmed a new listing.
Feeling a little more secure after verifying that Roarke’s business at least had an address and a phone number, Alexandra moved onto the back deck. The sun went
down over the land behind her, shooting a marvelous sparkle of burnished orange and yellow light across the ocean. Overhead, gulls cawed and dived into the sea for food. A light breeze carried the salty ocean tang, and she allowed the tensions of the day to evaporate in the cooling air.
Although she’d learned new facts about Roarke, they’d confirmed her earlier impressions. He was smart, determined and skilled at what he did. Briefly, she wondered why he’d quit his job with the CIA after his spectacular rise to a very high position. Clearly he’d once been ambitious. Yet she hadn’t sensed that in him at all, and she found it strange.
She stared at the Atlantic and finished the glass of wine, suspecting she couldn’t have a better man than Roarke Stone to protect her. She might not like the way she responded to Roarke, but Jake had chosen wisely. But why hadn’t her brother called her? Explained what was going on? How could she make informed decisions with so little information?
Later, she would read her mother’s diary more carefully. Maybe she’d find answers there. But where would she find answers to her heart-stopping reaction to Roarke’s kiss? Never had she responded to a man as she had to him.
She could tell herself it was her fear, the unaccustomed life-and-death situation that made her heart kick her ribs and her blood rush from her head. But that kiss was indelibly imprinted on her brain, and she could recall the most subtle details of her embarrassingly passionate response to a stranger that she didn’t even particularly like.
Even after the danger had passed, her heart had skipped a little every time he’d looked at her with those piercing blue eyes. She was aware of every nuance of his expression, of a slight upward rise of his lip, of the arch of his brow, of the light of amusement in his eyes when he teased her into doing what he wanted.
She knew better than to blame her heightened fears on her reaction to Roarke. If he came up behind her now and kissed her neck, shivers would shimmy down to her core. Was it lust? He was a damn good-looking man. But if Mel Gibson or Brad Pitt showed up on Bonnie’s patio, would she notice every little thing about them as she did with Roarke? Would she be so intensely aware of their masculinity that she forgot where she was and that she might be in danger?
She didn’t think so. Somehow Roarke had wormed his way under her defenses, and she didn’t like it one damn bit. She didn’t need any complications in her life right now. She had her skyscraper to build and a thousand details to take care of.
Turning away from the ocean, she returned to the bungalow and worked for several hours. She ate a bowl of cereal for dinner and an apple for dessert before crawling into bed exhausted. She expected to close her eyes and immediately fall asleep.
But every time she closed her eyes, Roarke appeared. His face peering into the Dumpster at her in amusement. His real annoyance and genuine respect when she’d defied him and tried to escape out the bathroom window. His reluctance to leave her alone for the night.
Tossing onto her side, she punched the pillow, wishing it was his face. The man had disturbed her waking hours, must he disturb her sleep, too?
She flicked on the television and changed the channels without finding anything to hold her interest. Restless, tired, she wanted to take a long walk on the beach. But until she knew who was after her and why, she’d remain safe behind locked doors. Although she didn’t think anyone could find her here, she wouldn’t take foolish risks with her life.
She had too much to live for.
Eventually, in the wee hours of the morning, she fell asleep and it seemed as though only minutes passed before her alarm buzzed her awake. Cranky before her morning coffee, she quickly took a shower and dressed, refusing to fuss over the circles under her eyes. Maybe if she didn’t look good, Roarke wouldn’t be tempted to…
She glanced out the window and her pulse sped up. A sleek black sports car that hadn’t been there last night sat across the street from the bungalow. She could tell from the fogged windows that someone sat inside it. Although it was too far away to identify the driver or read the license plates, she wondered if he was the same man who’d crashed into her apartment. Had he found her again? Or was he simply an innocent stranger carpooling with a neighbor? She had a half hour until she expected Roarke, but she refused to panic. Maybe the guy had just stopped to answer a call of nature. Or read a map. Or eat breakfast. Maybe he wanted to watch the sun come up over the ocean.
But he could be the same man who’d chased her through her apartment. The one who wanted the package her brother had sent.
Better not to take any chances.
Alexandra picked up the phone and called the police.
Chapter Five
“Please, hurry. Someone’s at the back door.” Alexandra hung up the phone and rushed to the nightstand and the gun Roarke had left her. She slipped off the safety and backed against the wall, holding her breath.
Listening hard.
Someone was here, possibly already inside the bungalow.
She didn’t hear footsteps so much as sense the presence of another person. Suddenly she wished she hadn’t sent Roarke away last night. She’d been so certain she was safe. And now she was alone.
Thank God he’d left her a gun. Gripping the weapon firmly, she peered out into the darkness. But she saw no movement except the waves lapping against the beach and clouds scudding past a crescent moon.
But the hair on the back of her neck rose, responding to danger she couldn’t see.
The police are on the way, she reminded herself. But how long would they take to arrive?
Waiting inside, where an intruder expected her to be, seemed like a stupid move. She backed out the bedroom door onto the wrap-around terrace.
But where should she go? She didn’t even have her car since Roarke had driven her here. The beach would provide no cover and the sunrise couldn’t be far away.
Deciding that the best place to hide would be in the thick viburnum hedge that ran along the property’s side yard, she dropped and rolled off the deck. As soon as she struck the sand, a hand clamped over her mouth, deadening her scream. Arms grabbed her tightly, and she froze as cold fear slithered down her throat and coiled around her heart.
“It’s Roarke.” His warm whisper in her ear chased away the fear.
But she didn’t have time to enjoy her relief before anger overrode all other feelings. A white-hot rage rose up inside her for his frightening her like that.
“Why the hell can’t you ring the bell? Or knock? And come through the door like a normal person?” she demanded in a fierce whisper that chased away the last vestiges of fear.
Roarke pulled her under the decking, his strong arms and chest protecting her face from the sand and weeds, his warm breath comforting in her ear. “And take a chance of your shooting me?”
“Very funny. Making jokes while someone’s in the house stalking me.”
“Not likely.”
“What do you mean, not likely?”
“I set up a perimeter alarm. The only one who broke the laser beam was me after you called the police.”
Perimeter alarm? Laser beam? “Could you say that in English, not spy talk, please?”
“Last night I took a few precautionary measures. I told you I’d keep you safe.”
“No one’s in the house?”
“No.”
“Then why are we under my deck whispering?”
“I don’t want the police to shoot me by mistake. We needed a safe place to talk.”
“What’s wrong with the living room?” She sighed. “I just don’t understand you.”
“The living room is where the cops would expect us to be. Some hotshot with a happy trigger finger might decide I’m one of the bad guys,” he told her in that sexy whisper that annoyed her much more than she wanted to admit.
She should have known he wouldn’t have abandoned her. He took his job too seriously. It would have been much more comfortable for him to have insisted on staying inside the bungalow with her last night. But he hadn’t insis
ted.
Why? Surely it wasn’t to make her feel better? Sometimes Roarke could be considerate, but only when it suited his needs. He must have wanted to stay apart from her for a reason. Or he had work to do—work he didn’t trust her to know about. The knowledge stung, but she shoved it away.
As if sensing her upset, he sought to calm her. “Did you think I would leave you alone and unprotected?”
She refused to soften at his indignant tone. “Are you saying you’ve been outside the bungalow all night just so you could spy on me?”
“Yes.”
Where was his silver tongue when she needed explanations? “Then you saw the black Mercedes M420 across the street?”
“That’s my vehicle,” he admitted wryly. “Remember, the other was a loaner?”
“But—”
“A friend dropped it off.”
“But—”
“I never left you for a minute.”
“But, I called the police on you.”
“I know.” He chuckled that warm, masculine chuckle that irritated her soul.
“How do you know?”
Sirens in the distance warned of approaching police cars. “I bugged your phone during my search yesterday.”
“Creep.” He’d not only been spying on her, he’d been listening to her phone calls. Thank God she hadn’t called a girlfriend and spoken about him.
“The police are going to show any minute and you’ll have to tell them you made a mistake.”
“Pervert.”
“You’ll have to explain that you didn’t recognize my car and you got scared.”
“And why shouldn’t I just let them haul you off or shoot you?”
Roarke grunted as she dug her elbow into his side as she tried to roll away. But he held her close, close enough for her to smell the coffee on his breath. “You know who I am now. You checked me out with your reporter friend. You know I run a legitimate business, you checked with information. What you also don’t know is that last night I got hold of Harrison.”
“Harrison?”
“Your brother’s assistant. He told me that Jake is on the run. Harrison will call and let us know as soon as he hears from him.”
Hidden Hearts Page 6
