Jenny shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know the name.”
“Well, you’ve got a guy now, so it doesn’t matter. You’ll be wanting table seven, I’m sure.”
Table seven was in a protected alcove and was reserved for intimate couples. It was said that a waiter had once caught a romantic duo in the throes of ecstasy. The lovers had apparently simply lost their heads over Alberto’s fabulous dishes and expensive wines and just felt like making love on the spot. Jenny doubted the validity of the tale, but she could appreciate the sentiment, especially after her blissful nights with Hunter.
“I’ve never sat at table seven,” she said and Carolyn gave her a swift hug.
She thought over Hunter’s revelations as she waited for him, sipping sparkling water, as she still had a fifteenyear-old son to pick up. She recognized how hard it was for Hunter to tell her anything about his family, especially Michelle. What a terrible story. She hadn’t known how to ask any more questions and besides, it hadn’t been the time. Hunter was obviously the strong and silent type, so she considered it a monumental step in building their relationship that he’d managed so much.
She couldn’t believe how unfair she’d been to him to run away from him in Puerto Vallarta. It was a wonder he trusted her at all now.
When he walked in, Carolyn was right behind him, her face filled with an expression Jenny couldn’t read. Hunter strode to the table and Jenny’s heart fluttered. He was handsome.
“I thought I was over handsome men,” Jenny told him teasingly. “I thought Troy had cured me of that forever, but I was wrong.”
Hunter half-smiled.
She wondered if she were falling in love with him. She certainly felt giddy enough right now.
Carolyn hovered by the table. “Jenny, could I see you a moment?”
“Now?”
“There are a few things Alberto hasn’t quite figured out. Maybe if you talked to him.”
“Maybe I could check into it after lunch.” “I think it would be better now,” Carolyn insisted.
Jenny shrugged, momentarily baffled by her friend’s strange behavior. “Well, okay …”
Carolyn practically pulled her out of the chair and marched her to the kitchen. “He’s the guy,” she whispered fiercely. “The guy at table fourteen that night. The one that was watching you.”
“What guy?”
“The one you’re with!”
“Wait a minute.” Jenny held up her hands. “You said that the man who asked about me came in here while I was in Puerto Vallarta and that his name was—”
“—Mike Conrad. No. That was a different guy. This one.” She pointed in the direction of the dining room. “The one you’re with—he’s the one who was watching you!”
Jenny gazed at her in confusion.
“Jenny, you say you met him in Puerto Vallarta?” At her slow nod, Carolyn rushed on, “Then he knew who you were. My God, it looks as if he followed you there! He must have been looking for you.”
“No, Carolyn!”
“I don’t know what he wants, Jenny, but be careful. Please believe me.” Her tone was increasingly urgent. “That gorgeous guy out there was watching you like a hawk long before you left for Puerto Vallarta. Jenny, listen to me. He’s the guy!”
CHAPTER TEN
Jenny drew a breath and glanced around. Her hands felt like ice.
“He’s never mentioned it? Not once?” Carolyn asked. Jenny shook her head and Carolyn went on, “Then something’s screwy. He knew who you were.”
“Then … then … he saw Rawley, too, that night.” Fear bubbled inside her.
“He was looking at you. Jenny, I think he’s been following you!”
That resonated deep inside her. She’d been worried about Troy, but now there was trouble from another angle. Who was Hunter Calgary? What did she really know about him? She couldn’t think!
“What are you going to do?” Carolyn whispered, glancing nervously around.
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t go back there!” she urged. “Just go out the back door.”
“No.” Carolyn’s anxiety was infecting her, but Jenny hung onto her control. “He’s been nothing but wonderful to me. I’m going to go back there and ask him about it. Just ask him.”
Carolyn moaned. “Oh, Jenny …”
“Go fulfill your orders,” Jenny urged, her sense of responsibility taking over yet again. “I’ll handle this.”
And with that she headed back to the intimate little table, hesitating as she approached the man she loved and knew so little about.
She hit him with it hard. One flat question. Hunter had to admire her.
“Have you been following me?” she demanded, tense as strung wire.
He could have lied. He could have said a thousand things. But he could tell her friend had given her the information already. Kicking himself for not remembering he might have been spotted at the restaurant earlier he simply answered, “Yes.”
She collapsed as if she’d been held up by invisible strings, sinking into the cushion of her chair, the color rushing from her face. She hadn’t expected such a bold reply, apparently.
“I saw you at the restaurant,” he continued. “I heard you were going to Puerto Vallarta.”
“And you followed me there?”
“More or less. I was there ahead of you.”
It wasn’t enough of an explanation and though he’d wanted to come clean, he’d wanted to do it in some other, better way. He loathed having to bring up his association with Allen Holloway. He loathed having to tell her that Troy Russell had murdered his sister and that he was afraid for Jenny. He didn’t know how to explain his own feelings.
“Why?”
He hesitated.
“No, don’t think up some lie,” she said tightly. “I don’t want to hear some story of how you experienced love at first sight and just followed your heart. I want to know the truth.”
“You won’t like it.”
“I don’t like it now. I don’t see how much worse it can get.”
He cleared his throat. “Your father hired me to protect you.”
“Bella!” Alberto chimed, holding plates of pasta above his head as he squeezed between the tables and delivered their dishes with a flourish. “For you, my love, only the most special. And you, lucky man. You be good to my daughter. She is an angel.”
Jenny felt tears well in her eyes. She could barely see.
“Look! She cries tears of happiness.” Alberto leaned down and kissed her on both cheeks, hugging her hard. Then he wagged a finger in front of Hunter’s stony face. “You hurt her, you deal with me and my brothers!” Chuckling, he moved away, singing a soft Italian ballad on his way back to the kitchen.
Silence followed.
“I have to go,” Jenny choked out.
“Don’t. Please.” He reached out a hand to stay her but she snatched her arm back.
“No … don’t … don’t do that. My father hired you? And I hired you?”
“I wanted to protect you.”
“Protect me? Oh, you … bastard!”
“From Troy Russell. I know him.”
That stopped her cold. She gazed at him through tear-wet eyes, but there was no compassion in their blue depths. Hunter’s chest constricted, but he could tell she would shrink away if he attempted to touch her again.
“Go away,” she whispered.
“I’m not leaving you.”
“Well, I’m leaving you!” She stood up sharply. When Hunter made to get up she cut him off with a sharp wave of her hand.
“I want you safe, Jenny. That’s all.”
“It’s Geneva,” she managed, then she turned on her heel and stumbled outside.
The drive to Allen Holloway’s River Oaks home took a while—long enough for Hunter to run through the scenario with Jenny around in his head about a hundred times. Self-flagellation was good now and again. Kept things in perspective.
He buzzed at the gate an
d heard Natalie answer tentatively. He explained that he wanted to see Allen and heard only silence for a long moment. Then the gates themselves opened slowly, as if reluctant to swing to the full extent of their arc. He drove to the front of the house, admiring the impressive stone fountain made out of a series of rock slabs. Water cascaded from one level to the next to a deep blue pool at the base.
Out of habit, he remote-locked the Jeep, then wondered why he thought anyone would be able to break inside while parked in the midst of this fortress.
Natalie herself answered the door, giving him a long once-over before she allowed him inside. “My husband’s on his way home. He said to let you in,” she said in a tone that suggested that this was a task above and beyond the call of wifely duty.
Hunter simply nodded and her pomposity melted a bit. She showed him the way into a high-ceilinged den with mahogany crown molding, a massive stone fireplace, and a group of chairs around a square table of bleached pine. The upholstery was a dark blue and gold design in a decidedly Native American pattern; the chairs were sturdy Ponderosa pine. Whoever Allen Holloway’s designers were, they’d followed a distinctly southwestern style. Holloway’s preference? Probably. Natalie looked more like the brocade and chandelier type.
“Could I get you something to drink?” she asked, the words sounding stilted on her tongue.
It was Sunday. Hunter had a feeling that it was the maid’s day off. “Coffee?” he asked.
“Cream or sugar?”
“Black.”
She disappeared in a hurry. Hunter sprawled on the couch, surprised at how comfortable it was. A glance around the room showed other evidence of southwestern influence: small Hopi figurines; a copper Zia sun mounted above a pine sideboard that matched the central furniture; a glass case of pounded silver and turquoise pieces that resembled jewelry but were apparently just meant for display.
Natalie’s hands shook a bit as she brought him coffee. She was unattractively thin. Hunter silently compared her to Jenny and wondered how Allen Holloway’s marriage was holding up.
Jenny. He had to fight for control. It went against his instincts to let her pick up her son alone, yet accompanying her would have complicated things. He would have been in the way.
Natalie sat across from him, holding a cup of coffee in her anxious fingers. She stirred the dark brown liquid continuously. No cream and he couldn’t imagine her dumping a spoonful of sugar into anything she planned to consume. The stirring was for stirring’s sake alone.
“What are you doing for my husband?” she asked, surprising him with her bluntness. She set the cup down on the table, the spoon rattling ominously, then she clasped her hands together in a death grip. Her control was downright scary.
“I’m working as a bodyguard to his daughter.”
“I saw him, you know. Troy Russell. He pretended not to know me and it took me a while to place his face. He’s heavier than he was, but it looks all right. He’s still too handsome to trust.” She smiled, but it was almost a grimace. The skin was stretched too tightly across her face. “So are you, for that matter.”
Hunter shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t like being compared to Russell at any level, though he knew they had the same coloring. Michelle had commented on it once. Only once. Because Hunter had snapped at her so ferociously she wouldn’t dare to make any kind of comparison again.
“He thrives on intimidation, doesn’t he?” Natalie said. “The way he looked at me—that’s why I thought about it later. Like he knew something I didn’t. Which I guess is the truth.” She shivered delicately. “What does he want?”
“Money.”
“It’s extortion.” Twin spots of color reddened her pale cheeks.
“And Jenny.”
Natalie sat like a stone. Hunter had just about decided she wasn’t going to answer when she said, “He has eyes that undress a woman and it isn’t pleasant.”
Hunter’s jaw tightened grimly. He hadn’t seen Troy Russell in years but he knew just what Natalie was talking about. He didn’t know what he’d do if he witnessed Russell checking out Jenny like that.
“My husband says I’m a terrible judge of character,” she said, crossing her slim legs. “But I can tell you that Troy Russell is not the same as he was. He’s far worse now.”
“Worse?”
She looked away. “I didn’t know him well. I didn’t pay much attention to him. He was young and he was Jenny’s husband. I didn’t have to think about him,” she said, turning her gaze back to Hunter. “But the other day …”
“Go on,” he said, feeling the need to prompt her as she trailed off, lost in serious thought.
“Do you care about Jenny? Allen says you’re involved.”
Hunter didn’t want to reveal the truth to Natalie Holloway. But he couldn’t deny he was deeply attracted to Jenny. His feelings for her were real. He couldn’t shake the memory of the tears in her blue eyes and hurt turning her voice to an angry whisper.
Natalie was waiting. Her honesty demanded that he be honest in return. “Yes.”
“Then you’d better stay close to her. It was just a fleeting impression, but I got the feeling Troy Russell is—” She struggled to come up with the right response, shaking her head and agitatedly fluttering her hands. “He’s dangerous.”
A feeling of déjà vu came over him. He’d been here before.
Natalie cocked her head a moment before Hunter heard the approaching engine. The nearly soundproof walls blocked most of the noise, but Natalie was attuned to the house and recognized even the subtlest change. He was revising his opinion of her moment by moment. She was smarter than he’d guessed, and more intuitive. And deeply obsessive. Add about thirty pounds, she could even be called attractive.
Allen arrived with a slam of doors. He stormed into the den like an angry bull. The man was a classic Type A, on the verge of a heart attack. No question about it. Jenny was going to inherit those millions sooner than her father wanted unless he got himself under control.
And then Russell will have everything he wants in one package-and a son to boot …
“Natalie …” Allen’s tone was curt. She’d risen to her feet at his arrival and now she stood almost defiantly. No love there, either, apparently. Not anymore. “I would like to be alone with Mr. Calgary. Bring me a bottle of brandy from the bar cupboard.”
She glanced toward a serving cart where at least two bottles of brandy glowed in the slanting afternoon light, but she left without a word. Allen prowled toward the fire and back again while he waited for her. He didn’t speak a word but Hunter could read a dangerous fury in his movements. Natalie returned with a silver tray, a bottle of expensive brandy and two glasses. Hunter shook his head, but Allen appropriated the tray and splashed hefty doses for both of them, offering Hunter a glass without asking whether he wanted it.
What the hell, Hunter thought, relaxing a bit for the first time since his encounter with Jenny. He drank the stuff and knew he’d been treated to something remarkably good.
“You’re sleeping with my daughter?” Allen bit out as soon as Natalie closed the doors behind her.
Hunter felt a lick of anger, followed by amusement. “Did you expect her to remain celibate forever?”
“I asked you to protect her!” he shot back furiously. “She’s not getting involved with an unemployed excop!”
“I believe I’m employed,” Hunter responded quietly. “At least I was until now.” Drawing an envelope from an inside pocket of his leather jacket, he tossed it on the table. It slid toward Allen and teetered on the edge. “I won’t take your money.”
“You’re a worse fool than I thought. She sure as hell doesn’t have any money and she won’t take any!” Holloway said triumphantly.
Hunter walked straight up to the man and stared him in the eyes. Holloway was a couple of inches shorter and Hunter overshadowed him, but the older man stood his ground, glaring back at him. “If you think this is about money, Holloway, be careful who you’re calli
ng a fool.” With that he turned to leave, his thoughts already spinning ahead to Jenny and Rawley and Troy Russell.
“Wait!”
Hunter kept right on going. Natalie hovered in the shadows at the back of the entry. Hunter nodded a good-bye, but his exit was spoiled by Holloway hurrying after him to the car.
“What are you doing? Where are you going?” he demanded.
“I’m going to figure out how to get Russell,” Hunter replied. “Be glad there’s no link between us, because it’s going to get ugly.” He swung himself into the Jeep and rolled down the window.
“What are you going to do to him?”
“Don’t know yet”
Hunter started the engine and Holloway put a hand on his open window, staying him. He struggled for a moment and Hunter waited. Finally, he said, “Keep them safe.” Hunter understood the terse comment immediately: it was a testament to the man’s love for his daughter and grandson.
“That must have really hurt,” Hunter said as he put the Jeep in gear and Holloway stepped back.
Holloway’s acknowledgment was a tight twisting of his lips.
Jenny was shattered. Who the hell did Hunter Calgary think he was, lying to her like that?
He worked for her father!
She’d been fool enough to believe him, too. But the man had been bought and paid for by who else but dear old dad. Why was she surprised? This was just another walk on the same treadmill.
She thumped her hand hard against the steering wheel. She hated him. Absolutely hated him. It was a new emotion. She’d been frightened of Troy and desperate to have him out of her life, but she hadn’t hated him. She’d been too intent on survival. There had been no fury inside her. All she’d felt was a need to be free at all cost.
Now she felt fury. Deep-down fury. All she wanted was to claw at Hunter’s eyes and kick his shins and belt him hard right in the gut! He’d used her. No, no. Correction. She’d let him use her. She’d wanted fun and sex and love and he’d seemed too perfect for words.
Oh, hell. She wanted to die.
In Too Deep Page 19
