by Lyn Stone
"Good. That's a relief." He released her arm and gave it a pat. Not looking relieved at all, he stepped away from her and turned. "I'll just go and get you something to sleep in," he said over his shoulder. "Towels are on the shelf beneath the sink."
"Soap's still in the wrapper," she muttered under her breath. "Shampoo in little bottles. Pay with automatic checkout. Next guest, please." The man could make his bed, walk out of this apartment, and no one would be able to tell anyone had ever lived here.
Yes, something had happened to him, all right. Instinctively, she knew better than to ask him what it was, but something compelled her to find out.
She followed him down the hallway and met him coming out of his bedroom. "Here," he said, handing her a new white T-shirt and a pair of knit running shorts. "These are the smallest things I own."
Not exactly, she thought to herself as she looked into his eyes. The smallest thing he owned was a trust in permanence of any kind. She didn't need to be a shrink to figure that out.
Nina dredged up a smile and thanked him for the clothes, cursing her desire to know what made him tick. She had another mystery to solve that should be occupying her mind full-time. So why was she wasting time mulling over what made Ryan McDonough the man he was?
Ryan lay on his back waiting for his travel clock to buzz. Hands clasped behind his head, the sheet kicked off his legs, he stared steadily at the ceiling fan. Round and round it went, just like his thoughts. For the first time in years, he was unable to drag them back to the case at hand.
Nina Caruso was messing with his mind, screwing up his logic, threatening his job. If he couldn't stand back and look at her with a cop's eye instead of buying every word she said and watching those sensuous lips while she formed each one, he needed to get out of this business altogether.
And then what would you do? That wicked sarcastic inner voice demanded. Tend bar? Build boats with your daddy? Hole up somewhere and drink yourself to death ?
He'd done all of those things, plus more he wasn't too proud of and some he couldn't even remember.
This woman could destroy him completely, he realized. And he was well on his way to letting her do it. Get her out of your system, the voice urged.
Right. Just waltz on into the next room and have sex with her. It wouldn't be all that difficult. She was attracted to him. And once she found out why he'd hit on her, she would want to get as far away from him as King Marcus would allow.
And I'd be out of a job, Ryan thought to himself. No way the king would keep him on this if he went that far to get rid of her.
Maybe he wouldn't tell her why. Maybe she wouldn't guess. People had brief affairs all the time without really talking about the reasons, didn't they? He'd never had an affair as such. Only a few minor flings for fun in college. From there he'd gone straight into a marriage that left him with no desire to play around, and then...
He skipped over that and picked up several years later, when he'd resumed a social life. If he could legitimately call it that. He had purposefully settled for meaningless one-night stands, and a bare minimum of those.
God, how bleak that seemed. Here he was, living on what was unarguably the most beautiful island in the Mediterranean, surrounded by conditions that forced beauty onto the senses, and he was no more relaxed and in no better frame of mind than he'd been when he first got here. A little more in control, maybe. But now, even that was arguable.
This woman had violated his reserve, knocked down some barrier he hadn't even admitted was still up. Ryan fought the surprise and anger he felt now that Nina Caruso was inadvertently holding up the mirror that reflected his life. He was not liking what he saw.
At least the anger cooled his other idea. No way could he approach her now with sex in mind.
"Ryan?" she called in a half whisper from his doorway.
For a second he thought it was a dream, one of those where you thought you were awake. "What?" he asked, not moving.
"I heard something," she rasped, slipping inside his doorway and flattening herself against his wall. "I think someone's in my apartment next door. The walls are..." She gestured helplessly. "You know... adjacent."
Quickly he rolled from the bed and pulled on his pants. He checked his weapon and with his free hand, pressed her even closer to the wall, ordering her silently to remain where she was.
His bare feet made no sound on the carpet as he hurried down the hallway and through his living room. Carefully, he unfastened his well-oiled locks, relocked the door behind him, and crept down the outside walkway to her door. It stood open about six inches.
He kicked it completely open, then slammed himself against the outer wall. No one rushed out. No shots were fired. Crouching low, he slipped inside. Slowly, he made his way across the room, checking every possible hiding place, weapon ready.
He practiced the classic police entry that he'd performed innumerable times in the line of duty. He'd known the place was empty the minute he entered. There was a different feeling, almost a smell of expectation, a tension in the air, when a perp was still present. However, he knew comrades who had died relying on that instinct.
He flipped on the lights. The living room appeared undisturbed, so he headed for the bedrooms to check them out with the lights on. In the one where Nina had slept the night after the fire, Ryan saw a huge wet splash marring the peach-colored wall adjacent to his apartment. Shards of the water glass he recalled setting on her nightstand the night before littered the floor beneath the splash.
Burglary? No, he decided. Throwing that glass against the wall signified anger. Whoever had broken in here must have expected to find Nina asleep in this bed. He rushed back to his apartment, unlocked the door and slipped inside.
She was right where he'd left her. "Who was it?" she asked in a small voice.
He decided not to touch her. "Whoever it was was gone when I got there. Somebody broke in, all right. Looked like they were mad as hell to find you missing. Broke a glass against the wall. That's probably what you heard."
Her eyes were round as saucers. She shook her head. "All my money, traveler's checks and passport are in my purse, which I have here. There was nothing there for them to steal. Maybe that made them mad?"
Ryan nodded. "Could be that's what they were after."
"But you don't really think that, do you?"
"No." He tucked the gun in his belt at the small of his back.
Suddenly as that her arms locked around his neck. A single sob broke free and then she was quiet, trembling, either barely breathing or holding her breath.
"Ah, baby, it's okay," he heard himself say. "Everything will be fine." His hands clutched her at her waist and her neck, then slid farther around her so that he wrapped her snugly his arms.
He couldn't have spoken if somebody had held a gun to his head. Emotion choked him. His eyes were clenched and tears burned behind his lids. How long had it been since he'd held someone the way he now held Nina? Someone who looked to him only for comfort after a nightmare? Someone who really mattered?
He almost pushed her away, but found he couldn't make himself do it. She needed him more right now than he needed space to figure out what was happening between them. Later he could fall back and rebuild his defenses. For now he would just hold her.
* * *
Ursula Chambers stood in the shadows, clutching the handle of the large blade she'd slipped into the pocket of her summer-weight trench coat. Desperate times called for desperate measures. Anxiously she watched the door of the apartment she'd just left.
She shouldn't have slammed that glass against the wall. The second it had struck, she'd realized her mistake in letting her temper get the best of her. She'd been so sure the woman would be in there sleeping. But, no, she must have been in bed with that private dick next door. Tramp.
Desmond's sister. Why had Desmond never mentioned he had a sister? He had surely told her about the plan. No doubt they'd been as thick as thieves all their lives, considering how qu
ickly she'd flown over here, making noise about seeking justice for her beloved brother. What a crock. On television yet! She was sending out a signal to Ursula with that announcement, trying to force a contact and get in on this venture. Wanting in on the action. Fat chance of that after Ursula had done all the work. Des's little sister wasn't getting a dime.
She'd been there at the guesthouse, probably looking for Ursula's address. The fire had almost taken care of the whole problem. At least it had gotten rid of any evidence Ursula might have left in the place, which had been the original plan. That lost earring had bothered her. She knew it must have fallen off inside the guesthouse. She might have left stray hairs and things that the cops could get DNA from like they did on TV. She hoped they hadn't had time to do that before she had destroyed the place. There'd been nothing on the news about any discoveries.
Damn her quick temper, she hadn't meant to kill Desmond. He'd been her ticket to a fortune. But she would work around that when the time came, Ursula thought, biting back the urge to cry. She didn't need him. Why had he made her so angry?
She sniffed, shrugged it off and decided to think positive. Going into the palace grounds with that last tour group and staying behind and hiding in the gardens had worked like a charm. Getting out with the crowd of emergency workers tonight had, too. They'd never know Ursula Chambers had been there. She had the instincts of a female James Bond. Considering that, she felt a little better about the failure to get rid of the Caruso woman, both in that fire and with the knife. There would be other chances.
The question was, how long would Desmond's sister keep the secret? Or would she soon give up trying to horn in on presenting the royals with the prince's baby? If so, she might blab about the plot hoping for a reward.
Something had to be done within the next few days or Gretchen would arrive with the kid. When Ursula handed over the baby to the royals there would be nothing to keep Nina Caruso from blowing the whistle on the whole deal. Unless she kept quiet and resorted to blackmail. That could be the whole idea.
Either way would spell disaster. Nina Caruso had to go.
Ursula watched as the lights went off in the woman's apartment and came on again in the one next to it. Too late to do anything tonight. She turned and walked hurriedly to her rental car parked two blocks away, trying to think what she would do next to eliminate the threat.
One of the rescue workers tonight had mentioned the detective who pulled Nina out that window was an American, Ryan McDonough. If that woman had hired a private eye to look out for her—or worse yet, to locate Desmond's accomplice—Ursula might need to hire somebody to counteract that. She knew just the guy. Not too smart, but greedy as hell.
Maybe she could talk him into doing two for the price of one if she threw in some benefits. She did, after all, have exactly what it took to convince a man to do anything. Desmond had told her that once when they were... well, she shouldn't think about that anymore, how close they had been, what plans they had made. What was done, was done, and she had to get things back on track.
* * *
Ryan notified the police as well as the king's administrative assistant, but went back to Nina's apartment and collected the glass fragments himself, bagged them and called Joe to come and pick them up to be examined for prints. In no way did he indicate to the cops that he thought the break-in was related to the fire. There was a chance that it wasn't, and if it was, he didn't want it broadcast on the evening news. The report would list it as a simple breaking and entering with nothing reported missing.
He knew the return call from the palace would be coming. In preparation for that, he had brought Nina a dress, shoes and her makeup from her apartment. She'd acted absurdly grateful to him for what she called his "thoughtfulness," especially when his taking her to the palace was his next step in getting rid of her.
Hell, he hated that she was acting so unlike herself this morning. He missed the in-your-face attitude. All this sweetness and cooperation must mean she was scared out of her mind.
He donned a suit and was knotting his tie when his phone chirped.
"McDonough," he answered.
"His Majesty requests your presence in his office at half past ten, sir. Miss Caruso is to accompany you."
"Of course," Ryan said and pocketed his cell phone. Now maybe King Marcus would listen to reason and send her home. Surely to God he would.
"I'm nervous," Nina admitted when they were settled in his car and on their way to the palace. She kept fiddling with the seat belt while her gaze darted out first one car window, then another.
"I don't wonder," Ryan commented, keeping an eye on the rearview mirror as he drove.
"I am staying, you know," she stated with more than a hint of yesterday's defiance.
Ryan didn't argue. As far as he was concerned, the king could take the heat for it when she found out she had no choice.
They rode in silence for a while, both fully aware that danger could be following. Or could be beside them in the next lane, for all he knew.
Ryan felt like kicking himself for not requesting that the palace send one of the limos to pick them up. Those were supposed to be bulletproof.
Didn't that prove his head wasn't where it was supposed to be? And whose fault was that? He cast a glance at Nina, wanting to hold it against her.
Unfortunately, what he really wanted to hold against her wasn't the fact that she wrecked his concentration.
Just once, before she flew to safety and out of his life forever, Ryan wished he could have her. That's all it would take. Once. Then maybe he'd be able to put her out of his mind and get back to business. That was all he wanted.
Maybe tonight, if she didn't have to fly out this afternoon.
* * *
Nina knew she had to get herself together before their audience with the king. If she looked as scared as she felt, he would probably make her go home.
She had thought very seriously about agreeing to go, even suggesting it herself, when she realized someone had broken into her apartment.
Ryan was so tenacious, she certainly didn't have to worry about his finding Desmond's killer without her prodding. However, her reason for wanting to stay had broadened, if not changed completely. Going home was not an option. She could not leave with all these questions in her mind about Ryan.
Why did he—a man so obviously wrong for her—captivate her senses so totally the way he did? It wasn't love or anything like that, she was sure. But whatever it was, the sheer power of it amazed her. She had to identify what it was and put it to rest before she left here.
When she decided to love, she would definitely choose someone like her father, who had put his family first before everything else in his life. Maybe he had spoiled her. Even so, she wanted a love like the one he and her mother had enjoyed, one that included devotion as well as passion. Theirs was such a great example of what a marriage should be. No way would she settle for less.
Even an affair with Ryan wouldn't be wise. She knew the pitfalls of getting involved with a workaholic again. Her one serious relationship had been with a guy like that and it had made her miserable for almost a year.
Whenever she thought of Terry now, she pictured him with a cell phone permanently attached to his ear and a string of excuses for leaving her coming out of his mouth.
She'd thought she loved him. He'd thought she was a short recess between appointments. She wasn't a clinging vine or an attention hog, but a woman deserved to be noticed once in a while as more than a convenience.
Ryan would probably be even worse than Terry once she wasn't right in the middle of a case he was working.
He was probably an alcoholic, too. Who knew when he'd go off the deep end? Add that to his carrying a gun and living a dangerous lifestyle and he was about the last person in the world she ought to be interested in.
But she was.
Nina had never desired this keenly, to the point where she was willing to put up with almost any conditions. If she hadn't se
en that same desire for her in his eyes, she would be running for her life. It was there, however, and he was fighting it. She had to know why.
Nina knew that if she didn't find out how deep it went, she would never be able to forget him. The unresolved feelings she had for Ryan would haunt her and color every relationship in her future.
She needed to stay long enough to see where this was going because if she left now, Nina knew she would never see him again.
"I am not leaving," she said again as they pulled into the parking lot between the wings of the palace.
Ryan smiled and shrugged, carefully not looking at her. They left the car and walked around to the entrance. He seemed determined to keep as much space between them as he could. Nina missed his hand on her arm or on the small of her back. Though his touch disconcerted her, she craved it.
Nina smiled and said good morning to the guards, one of whom she had questioned.
Even as she spoke, Ryan moved closer and placed his hand at her waist as if to hurry her along. Was that his purpose, or was he laying a subtle claim? And which did she want it to be? Nina sighed, increasing her pace even though she dreaded what the king might say.
Chapter 8
Nina only gave the opulence of the palace interiors her passing notice. Her mind was occupied in forming arguments for remaining in Montebello that King Marcus might accept.
A stooped yet gruff-looking man of about eighty greeted them outside the king's office. "His Majesty will see you immediately," he said, then opened the intricately carved door and announced them.
King Marcus stood as they entered. Ryan bowed formally and Nina dropped into a deep curtsy, waiting to be addressed.
The king cleared his throat and with a small flick of one hand, indicated they should rise. "Thank you for coming."
"Our pleasure, Your Majesty," Ryan replied. As if they'd been left a choice.
The king gestured toward the satin striped chairs that stood in front of his desk. "Be seated."
