by Carol Caiton
A slow, satisfied smile curved Ethan's mouth. He stretched his fingers then repositioned them, vaguely aware of the muscles in his shoulders relaxing. He saw her shiver. It was a violent shiver that told him she was freezing her little ass off. Yet she'd pulled away from the warmth Simon offered, preferring the cold over his nearness.
Wrapping her arms around herself, she rubbed briskly at the chill. Words were exchanged. But she didn’t return to Simon's side. They continued walking then slipped out of view and Ethan switched to one of several cameras at the intersection of the training center's path and the main thoroughfare.
But he lost them.
Frowning, he shifted his gaze back to the fourth monitor but saw no sign of them. It was as though they'd walked off into the shrubbery.
Reaching for his PC, he quickly pinpointed Nina's marker and found they'd turned left toward the entertainment sector rather than heading for the food court.
Renewed tension flickered through him. "Where are you going, sweetheart? Got a sudden urge to party?"
A light sweat broke out on his forehead. If they wanted a quiet place to talk, it wouldn't be the entertainment sector. There were only two reasons to venture into that area—to go clubbing . . . or to engage in sex.
He told himself not to jump to conclusions. But they headed straight for the Carnelian Jade. He keyed in the commands that took him from camera to camera, following their progress as they entered the villa. They headed toward the reception desk, then took an unexpected turn into a side corridor instead of checking in.
They stopped at the elevators and Simon punched a call button. When the elevator arrived, Ethan watched them get in, then watched the car descend down to the tunnels.
"Okay," he breathed. "Okay."
A minute later, however, a surge of anger pushed him to his feet. "You son of a bitch!"
Simon had latched onto Nina's wrist and hauled her behind him into one of the lockdown rooms, a windowless containment cell. It didn't happen often, but because RUSH's male population spanned the alpha range, there were occasions when things got out of hand. The lockdown rooms, unfurnished but for a single fold-up chair, were put into use when one or more of those 'things' needed to wind down. Scattered here and there throughout the tunnels, the highest concentration of rooms were located beneath the entertainment sector. The only exit was through a combination-lock metal door which could be easily opened from the outside but required knowledge of the numeric code from the inside. Simon would know the code to open it, but Nina wouldn't.
About to haul ass down to the tunnels and bring her out himself, he noticed that Simon hadn't shut the door. Ethan hesitated, adrenaline pumping through his system, and leaned over to tap into the camera inside the room.
Simon snagged the fold-up chair with his free hand, snapped it open, and pulled Nina toward it.
CHAPTER 39
"Sit down."
She sat.
Not that Simon gave her another option. The fingers fastened around her wrist were like a manacle. He meant business.
She wasn't actually afraid of him. Not really. But she wasn't unafraid either. She didn't know where she was. An empty storage room? But he hadn't closed the door. If he did, she'd scream the place down. She had experienced his superior strength when he'd detained her on Ethan's front porch. But she'd also experienced his gentleness. His thoughtfulness. Simon, she believed, had a deep capacity for caring. He might even turn out to be the faithful type once he finished sowing some wild oats.
In the meantime though, she just wasn't the sort of person who could blithely forget about catching the man who said he wanted a future with her, naked with another woman. That wasn't to say she was heartless. It was clear Simon wanted to heal the breach between them. She understood that. But he didn't understand that she could no longer trust him.
"Nina."
She met his gaze then shifted her eyes to her wrist, still locked in his grip.
Sighing, he hunkered down in front of her and unfolded his fingers.
"Where are we?" she asked.
"Don't worry, you're safe enough. I just want to talk." He smoothed his thumb across her skin as though to apologize for manhandling her. "I've gone over and over what I'd say to you when I finally had the chance, but now the words seem . . . inadequate."
He paused, his dark eyes staring into hers, and a wide range of emotions filtered through their depths. Regret, indecision, conviction, pride, strength, even affection. For her?
"That last night we were together," he began quietly, "when you came to my house and I seduced you into bed . . . I wanted you. I wanted you badly. But asking you to move in with me wasn't a condition you had to meet. No, let me finish. Then you can argue with me." He smiled and it reached his eyes, warm and teasing.
"I knew I'd been pressuring you," he went on. "And I knew when you ran down the stairs that you'd misinterpreted what I said. That was my fault. Entirely my fault. Bad timing, poor choice of words . . . . I apologize."
He looked down at their hands and drew in a breath. "Before you and I ended up in bed we'd spent the evening talking. We'd spent a few evenings talking—between our various arguments and misunderstandings. And despite all the obstacles in our path, I discovered a woman whose company I enjoyed, and I think you felt the same way toward me. But you weren't in love with me. We hadn't known one another long enough or well enough. And I wasn’t' in love with you. It was a beginning. For both of us." His thumb circled her wrist again. Softly. Warmly. "But I want you to know, if I had been in love with you, no power on earth could have lured me into the situation you walked in on."
Nina wanted to interrupt. The words were there in her mouth, screaming to be released. He was baring his heart with the hope of redemption and, heaven help her, if she hadn't seen what she'd seen, if her feelings for Ethan hadn't exploded into something powerful and heady, everything she'd once begun to feel for Simon would probably rise to the surface and she'd melt into a heap on this metal chair.
He smiled again and the austere analyst faded into the background. The change was remarkable, softening his features and kindling a mass of disturbing confusion she didn't know what to do with.
She shut her eyes.
"No. Look at me. I want you to look at my eyes and see the truth."
Oh, God. She did as he asked. "Simon, please—"
"It happened, Nina. You have no idea how deeply I regret that. Had the roles been reversed and I walked in on you with another man, I'd react the same way you are now. Worse. I wouldn't take it well if I found you with someone else."
Guilt washed over her. It shouldn't have. Not after what he'd done. But it did.
She jerked her eyes from his and stared over his shoulder at the blank wall. She saw a security camera mounted above the door and wondered if anyone was watching them.
"Nina?"
She gave a short quick shake of her head.
"Nina, look at me."
"No."
Her refusal must have surprised him or confused him. For a few seconds he said nothing and she brought to mind the image of his naked body pushing deeply into that of the copper-haired woman. It wasn't difficult to call up. She'd probably never forget it.
"Nina."
The new edge to his tone told her two things. First, the analyst was back. Second, he'd weighed her response and drawn his own conclusions.
Heat filled her face. She had nothing to be ashamed of she told herself. She was single, unattached, and free to pursue any romantic involvement she wanted. She could even go to work tomorrow and accept Bill Durrand's invitation to the Christmas party if she wanted.
But the guilt she felt was a painful reminder that the man with whom she'd become involved was Simon's friend. Had she been seeking retaliation, she couldn't have found a more damaging weapon.
"Who is he, Nina?"
Her heart picked up a wild rhythm.
"It couldn't be someone at work," he went on. "Today was your first day."
She had to get out of this room.
"Your eyes tell me you haven't slept with him yet," Simon continued, watching her, measuring, calculating.
Her heartbeat escalated another notch.
"But you're involved."
Springing up from the metal chair she pulled free of his hold and latched onto her purse. "I'm leaving," she announced. She couldn't help it if her voice was thin and strained.
She side-stepped around him, sprinting toward the open door as he stood up. It surprised her when he didn't try to stop her, but she felt him behind her, following on her heels.
Just outside, the whirr of a small engine could be heard and she spotted one of RUSH's motorized golf carts approaching, a security guard at the wheel. Raising a hand, she flagged him down and thankfully, he slowed, coming to a halt beside her.
He glanced at Simon, then back to her. "What can I do for you Miss Millering?"
He knew her name? Then recognition struck. P. Kerber. He was the guard who had checked her in the first day she arrived—the guard she'd imagined touching, maybe having sex with, and he'd seen right into her thoughts.
Once again heat rushed into her face. But the need to escape Simon took priority over embarrassment. "Is it possible for you to give me a ride to the Moon Orchid Spa, Mr. Kerber? I left something at the cabana."
He looked at Simon again. For approval? Then he turned back to her. "I can take you right to the refreshment bar. How's that?"
Before she could answer Simon took charge. "We'll sit in back."
There was nothing Nina could do to prevent him from going with her. Climbing into the miniature back seat, she adjusted her purse on her lap as he joined her, his long legs absurdly cramped in the small confines. During the ride he engaged P. Kerber in conversation but Nina tuned them both out.
Softly lit but sufficiently bright for navigation without headlights, she stared at the underground world of RUSH. Each venue could claim its own elevator and subterranean storage area. Threshold, she observed, had three. Stacked outside one of them were several crates of wine and she realized deliveries were coming in, even at this time of the evening. She noticed as well a few more empty storage rooms much like the one she and Simon had just vacated. Evidently RUSH was prepared for growth.
They passed various elevators leading up to the mall, then on to Checkpoint 1 and Security Central just beyond. After rounding a curve and following another long stretch, P. Kerber stopped the golf cart in front of an elevator in a deserted area. The identifying sign above the call button stated simply Moon Orchid Refreshment Bar.
Simon exited the vehicle as she did and she tensed. Could he get into the elevator with her?
He walked around the front of the cart, punched in a code on the keypad beside the call button, and waited for the elevator doors to open. Then he turned, gave her a speaking look, and said, "I'll meet you outside the gate."
It probably sounded like a declaration of reassurance to the security guard, but Nina knew better. Simon wasn't finished with her yet.
* * *
Ethan leaned back in his chair and took a breather. His insides felt stretched in about four different directions, as though he'd been bench pressing for the past half hour.
He glanced at the third monitor, noted that the tunnel beneath the Moon Orchid Spa was now deserted, and he ran a tired hand across the back of his neck.
Why had she gone to the Spa? And why had Simon given her access to the refreshment bar? It was closed.
He looked over at the clock. She had to work tomorrow. He had to work tomorrow. He pinched the bridge of his nose and decided he'd go home and vegetate in front of the TV as soon as he knew for certain Simon was headed for the parking garage and his car.
He turned toward the PC and typed in the command that would trace Simon's implant. He'd give a lot to know what had been said in that lockdown room and why Nina had bounded out of the chair as though shot from a spring. And what was she doing at the Moon Orchid Spa? He would have thought she'd head for the food court. She had to be hungry.
He followed Simon's marker through the tunnels then frowned when it stopped beneath Magnolias.
That uneasy feeling returned. He brought up a visual on the second monitor and watched Simon step out of the golf cart. He and the driver—Peter Kerber—exchanged a few words before Simon turned toward the elevator and pressed the call button.
And suddenly Ethan knew why.
"Son of a bitch."
Vegetating in front of the TV was forgotten as he pulled up Nina's coordinates and stared at the monitor.
The courtyard at the Moon Orchid Spa followed a design similar to that of the R-link complex. The six-foot outer stucco wall overflowed with tumbling bougainvillea and the courtyard where the pool and cabana were located, had been landscaped with meditation alcoves, providing an atmosphere of quiet seclusion. It was a restricted venue, exclusive to female clients, and, perhaps most significant, it was protected from male intrusion by a wrought-iron gate equipped with sensors.
"Oh, honey."
Arms wrapped around herself, shivering every few seconds with a visible twitch of her shoulders, she sat on the steps behind the gate, looking out. She was waiting for Simon . . . but it wasn't because she wanted to join him. Something had happened in the lockdown room that caused her to scramble up off the chair and search out a place of refuge. He didn't know what that something was, but Simon hadn't caused her any harm. Not physically. Nor had he tried to detain her. In fact, the thumb caressing Nina's wrist had been poignantly gentle. Caring and affectionate. And watching her accept that affection had dug a hollow out of Ethan's chest.
But she was outside now without a coat and barricaded behind a gate for a reason. He might not know the details, but watching her shiver in the cold November night, he didn't need to know. She was freezing her ass off because she felt secure in the knowledge that an alarm would go off at Security Central if Simon slid a finger through the bars. It had been the only place on property where he couldn't reach her.
"So what happened, sweetheart? Did he say something that scared you?"
Instead of watching Simon's thumb stroke the back of her wrist, he should have been paying attention to her face, watching her expression, her eyes. Especially her eyes.
In a matter of seconds Simon stepped into view. Nina rose from her perch on the steps and all at once the repercussions of her actions struck him. How would this appear to anyone who might be watching? How would it reflect on Simon?
It became obvious the moment Simon comprehended the situation as well. Pausing in mid-stride, he stood unmoving for a minute, observing Nina through the iron bars. Would he turn and walk away? He knew RUSH's cameras were everywhere.
But he didn't turn around. He didn't walk away. He continued his approach but at a slower pace. And damn if Ethan didn't feel for him. Regret, anger, frustration, bitterness . . . every manner of self-recrimination swept through him. He shouldn't be watching this. Goddamn it, no one should be watching this.
But he couldn't bring himself to log out of the system and shut it down. He had a stake in this disaster and the need to witness a friend being shot down filled him with self-contempt. He wanted to hit something, put his fist through the wall. But someone else had done that once. After one of Ethan's wilder transgressions his grandfather had punched his fist into a wall. He couldn't have known he was about to strike a stud and the force behind his fist had snapped the bone in his hand. For six weeks he'd worn a cast and the bone had never set properly.
When his cell phone rang unexpectedly, Ethan reached for it automatically. The name that appeared on the display wasn't unexpected.
Bracing himself for what was to come, he answered. "What can I do for you Jeremiah?"
"Ethan. You don't sound surprised to hear from me."
Ignoring that, Ethan said, "Is there a problem?"
A brief silence ensued. A moment later Ethan heard a door close. Jeremiah was inside his office and had just ensured
privacy for their conversation. "Maybe you should be the one to answer that," he said. "You've been piggybacking my cameras for the last half hour. Do we have a security issue I should be aware of?"
"I was subtle. How did you pick up on it?"
Jeremiah chuckled. "You pay me to pick up on it. Do I need to go down the list of my qualifications again?"
"Hmmph. Your cameras, huh?"
"While I'm the man in charge, yes. On the other hand, if there's a problem here and you'd like to take over . . . ."
He let the words trail off but the implication was clear: Something's happening on my watch and I want to know what's going on.
That was his job. But this was personal. Had he shadowed Ethan's trail from the training center all the way to the Moon Orchid Spa?
His question was answered in the next moment.
"Her vitals soared into the yellow zone back in the tunnels . . . not too far from red."
Ethan muttered a curse. He stared at the monitor. Nina remained behind the gate, Simon on the outside. They were talking. Calmly.
"It's a sensitive matter, Jeremiah. Personal."
"It's always personal. That's the way these things start. You pay me to pick up on that, head off trouble whenever possible, and keep it quiet."
Still, Ethan hesitated.
"I've held off as long as I can, Ethan. I've got a woman with erratic vitals barricaded behind a wrought-iron gate, trying to protect herself from a persistent male."
Ethan dragged a hand through his hair.
"I'm aware of the rumors," Jeremiah said quietly. "And I've got eyes. Simon and Nina Millering may have a blue link dangling between them, but their relationship is more in line with amber. In fact, it appears as though they try to avoid one another. And ever since—"
He broke off and Ethan waited. He wanted to know how much the other man knew.
"To phrase this tactfully," Jeremiah said, "I hear Simon took a detour. And from where I'm standing, Nina's actions tell me she wants nothing more to do with him. At least temporarily. I'm also aware of the fact that she's living in your house and your presence here tonight, shadowing her every move, adds up to another story."
