Cutter's Lady

by Candace Camp

  Leslie glared at Cutter as she stepped up to speak to the clerk. Trust Cutter to carry it to the extreme. The clerk looked at her a little oddly when she asked for two rooms while Cutter stood off to the side, idly looking around. But she breathed a sigh of relief when she realized he spoke English and quickly gave her two keycards. A bellman escorted them to their rooms, which lay side by side. Again Leslie tipped the bellboy, choosing a smaller bill this time, while Cutter watched the proceedings, leaning casually against his doorway.

  “All right!” she snapped at him after the man had left. “You win. From now on, you can handle the money and other such transactions.”

  Cutter grinned. “I’m not sure I want to. It’s a lot more fun watching you.”

  Leslie didn’t deign to respond. “I’m going to bed,” she said shortly. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  He dipped the front brim of his hat to her. “Yes, boss.”

  “Do you think it’s possible for you to stop being so infuriating?”

  He chuckled. “I’d say it’s real doubtful.”

  Leslie exhaled sharply through her nose and shut the door. She knew she should devour everything she could find on the internet about San Cristóbal and its currency, maybe even try to learn some basic Spanish—at the very least, she should check out the San Cristóbal wiki entry. But she was dead tired and all she wanted was to take a bath and go to bed. She set her suitcase on the luggage rack and opened it to take out a nightgown and matching peignoir. She peeled out of her clothes and threw on the light robe, tying the sash loosely. Then she pulled out her cosmetics bag, crossed the room and opened the bathroom door.

  She gasped. The door didn’t lead into the bathroom at all; instead it opened into Cutter’s room next door! The hotel clerk hadn’t understood her so well after all; he’d given them connecting rooms. His room was the mirror image of her own. Cutter stood at the foot of his bed, less than ten feet away from her. His feet were bare, and his shirt was off. At the sound of the door he whirled, his right hand flying to the back of his belt.

  When he saw who it was, he relaxed, and his hand fell down to his side. His eyes moved down her slowly, taking in every inch of her body, which was barely veiled by the thin robe. “Well, hello,” he greeted her, with a smile that reminded her of the Wolf meeting Little Red Ridinghood. “Do you have another job for me?”

  “No!” Leslie’s face burned; she was humiliatingly aware of how much the peignoir revealed. “I—I thought this was the bathroom. I didn’t realize you were… that it was your room.”

  “Too bad.”

  She stepped back and closed the door, then turned the bolt to lock it. She should have known it wasn’t the door to the bathroom which she saw it had a lock on the outside but she had been up for almost twenty hours and it was the middle of the night New York time and she hadn’t been thinking. On the other side of the door she thought she heard Cutter’s chuckle when she locked the door. Of course he would find it amusing that she would think that he might want to enter her room. Obviously, he wouldn’t. He disliked her as much as she disliked him. But it made Leslie feel too vulnerable to know that her room was freely accessible to him.

  Hurriedly she turned and walked over to the door on the other side of the dresser that she had assumed was the closet. She opened it more cautiously and found that it was indeed the bathroom. She turned on the water in the tub and set the soft cosmetics case down on the counter. In the mirror she could see that her face still glowed beet red. What an embarrassing thing to happen! Cutter would no doubt be perfectly odious about it tomorrow, insinuating that she’d done it on purpose. She dreaded facing him. But at least he didn’t know the worst thing—that even as she’d been mortified at his seeing her so close to naked, a liquid heat had started up deep in her abdomen at the intimate touch of his eyes. Not to mention the fact that she had immediately noticed how good he looked out of his shirt with perfectly developed, lean muscles that even in her embarrassment she couldn’t ignore.

  It must be because she had gone so long without a man that anything was enough to spark her desire. After all, it had been two years since her divorce, and she hadn’t slept with any man since Blake. Sex had always seemed a lukewarm thing to her, but perhaps two years of abstinence was enough to make her start to want it—even with a man like Cutter, who was far too rough for her tastes and who made her furious every time they saw each other.

  She turned back to her bath, shaking her head. It wasn’t worth thinking of. She was going to take her bath and go to bed, just as she had planned, and she was simply not going to think about it. Period.

  ***

  The next morning Leslie, hair up, makeup on, wearing a raw silk blouse and pencil skirt in a gorgeous scarlet and feeling much more herself, went down to the hotel restaurant for breakfast. Her spirits dropped considerably when she saw Cutter there before her, sipping a cup of coffee and tapping his pack of cigarettes against the table—obviously waiting on her. He glanced up and saw her and rose instantly to his feet. She was amazed at his quick politeness, not knowing that his movement was involuntary.

  He had jumped up, drawn by the sheer beauty of her in red. The skirt hugged her hips and the line of her legs so tightly that only the six-inch slit in the back kept it from hobbling her walk. The shirt was perfectly fitted as well, no doubt tailor-made. She couldn’t have chosen anything that would have shown off her figure better or enhanced her coloring more.

  Desire stirred in Cutter, as it had last night when she had inadvertently entered his room dressed in next to nothing. How did a woman who was so irritating and maddening manage to be so sexy, as well? He watched Leslie cross the room toward him and he warmed a little with pride, knowing that every male eye in the place was on her and that they would all assumed she belonged to him. He liked that. He felt a stir of suspicion that he might also like the reality very much. Too much. She was married to another man. She wasn’t for him. Hell, they couldn’t be together two minutes without arguing. There was no way he was going to let his body seduce him into something his mind knew was crazy.

  As Leslie sat down across the table from him, Cutter scowled, angry at himself for allowing her to have such a strong effect on him. “What the hell are you wearing that for?”

  Leslie raised a cool eyebrow. “Well, good morning to you, too.” She was glad for his surly attitude; it effectively wiped out the embarrassment she’d been feeling at facing him again after her mistake last night.

  “I asked you a question. Are you planning to wear that thing on our trip?”

  “Of course not. I thought I would pay a visit to Mr. Maldenado in the diplomatic office here. He’s the man I’ve dealt with since Blake was seized. I thought I’d see if he had any further news.”

  “If they haven’t done anything yet, you can be sure they won’t have done it in the last day or two. It’s pointless.”

  “Nevertheless, I ought to make the token gesture.”

  “Don’t.”

  Leslie bridled. “I’m not used to being given orders.”

  “Then you better learn. If you run around here doing what you think is best, you’re going to screw everything up. I know the government. They don’t take kindly to anyone messing around in what they consider their business. They won’t like your being here, and they’ll like it even less if you tell them you came to hike into the jungle and free your husband. The less the government knows about your presence here, the better. Don’t go see them.”

  “They’re bound to find out we’re here. If what you say is true, it would be better to go to them straightforwardly and allay their fears. We can lead them to believe that we’re here only to be closer to the news and to take Blake home when he’s released.”

  “Good. Let’s make them believe it even more. You stay here in La Luz and play the waiting wife while I go see Mora.”

  “Absolutely not.” They glared at each other in silence. The deadlock was broken only by a waiter arriving at their table to ta
ke their order.

  “What do you want to eat?” Cutter growled at her.

  “Fruit. Some sort of bread or toast. And coffee.”

  Cutter delivered their order to the waiter in the same tone of voice, and the man took it hurriedly and scuttled off. Cutter returned his fierce look to Leslie’s face. “Listen, you hired me because I was an expert on San Cristóbal. I know the place; you don’t. So as long as we’re here, no matter who’s footing the bill, you’re going to do as I say. It is not an exaggeration to say it’s a matter of life and death. I’m in charge in this country. Is that understood?”

  “There’s no need to be medieval about it. Of course I’ll be guided by your opinion since you know more about the country.”

  “You aren’t listening. I didn’t say ‘talk over’ or ‘consider.’ I said, ‘I am giving the orders here.’ Get it?”

  Leslie glared at him. “You’re crazy if you think I’m going to turn complete control over to you. I’ll do what is best in each situation, which doesn’t always mean what you want. It may surprise you to know, but I am capable of making very good decisions on my own.”

  “You’re right.” He tapped a cigarette out of his pack. “It would surprise me.”

  “There’s no reason for rudeness. That’s always what you fall back on. Now, taking into consideration what you’re said, I still think it would be the best thing to pay a visit to Mr. Maldenado.”

  “The best thing is to get a car and get out of this town before they know we’re here.”

  “As I told you before, it will allay their suspicions…”

  “It will let them know we’re here.”

  They were leaning closer and closer together with each exchange, their voices soft but biting. So engrossed were they in their argument that it was a moment before they noticed that all other conversations in the restaurant had ceased. Cutter realized it first and glanced around, like an animal scenting danger. He stopped and stared at the doorway. Leslie watched him, puzzled, then turned her head to see what he was looking at.

  Two men stood in the doorway, sweeping the room with their eyes. They were dressed in gunmetal-gray uniforms with blue markings on the shoulders, collars and cuffs. Gray army hats with blue braid were held stiffly under their arms. Gun belts were strapped around their waists. They wore polished black boots and black leather gloves. One seemed more junior than the other and stood a step or two behind him. The eyes of the one in front rested on Leslie, and he started forward, his companion following on his heels.

  “Policía Nacional,” Cutter muttered.

  “What?”

  The man was upon them. Leslie smiled up at him questioningly. He stared at her with eyes so cold they made her want to shiver. “Señora Harper?

  “Yes. Can I help you?”

  “I have come to escort you to Señor Jorge Maldenado.”

  Leslie’s stomach fell down to her toes. She had the awful feeling Cutter had been right.

  Chapter 4

  Leslie had learned through the years to pretend not to be intimidated. She presented a thoroughly unimpressed face to the officer. “Why, how nice. I had planned on calling on Señor Maldenado this morning. Won’t you join us? We’ve just ordered, but our breakfast hasn’t arrived yet. Then, as soon as we’ve eaten, we can go to Señor Maldenado’s office.”

  Cutter managed to keep his face straight, though he wanted to chuckle. Whatever else she was, no one could deny that Leslie Harper was cool. There weren’t many who dared postpone a “request” from the national police. The officer looked somewhat taken aback at Leslie’s words. Cutter was sure he wasn’t used to being told to wait, however politely it had been phrased.

  “Señora, I don’t think you understand. Señor Maldenado is a busy man. It isn’t… good to keep him waiting. We will go now, please.”

  Leslie raised one delicately arched eyebrow. “You mean before we eat our breakfast? But, surely… you must have misunderstood me. We have already ordered. Our food will be here in a few minutes.”

  The officer set his jaw. “No, señora, I did not misunderstand. My orders are to bring you back immediately.”

  “If Señor Maldenado wished to see me right now, he should have let me know earlier,” Leslie flashed back.

  Cutter decided it was time to intervene. It was one thing for Leslie to assert herself a little; it was quite another for her to make an enemy of the national police. Cutter rose and put his hand under her arm to help her up. “Leslie, I don’t think there’s any point in arguing. He has his orders, after all. We can have breakfast after we’ve seen Señor Maldenado.”

  To his relief, Leslie stood up without a fuss, but the officer scowled at him. “Who are you? I have no orders to take you.”

  During the verbal maneuvering, Leslie’s initial flash of fear had disappeared, but now it returned with full force. She didn’t want to leave with this man by herself.

  Cutter’s grip on her arm tightened reassuringly. “I must accompany the señora. I am her interpreter.”

  The officer looked at him skeptically. Cutter knew he didn’t look like an interpreter. He looked more like a bodyguard, which was exactly the impression he meant to make. “Señor Maldenado speaks English very well.”

  Leslie was afraid Cutter would back down before the officer’s refusal. After all, Cutter heartily disliked her, and she had no reason to expect any loyalty from him. She tensed, expecting Cutter to step away.

  To her surprise, he moved closer to her and said firmly, “I am going with the señora. She is my responsibility. Her father hired me. He is a very wealthy, important man in the United States, and he feared for his daughter’s safety here, after her husband’s kidnapping. I am never to leave her side while she is here.”

  The other man scowled. “I have no orders regarding you.”

  “Then you have no orders to refuse to take me.”

  “No…”

  “I cannot allow Mrs. Harper to leave unless I accompany her.”

  The officer puffed up indignantly. “Allow? You have no right to allow or not to allow!”

  Cutter smiled, extending his free hand in a gesture of conciliation. “Please. This isn’t worth making an international issue out of, is it? I have my orders; you can understand. Since you have no orders regarding me, what’s the harm in my coming along?”

  The man regarded Cutter coldly for a moment, then jerked his head in assent. “All right. You may come. Now, let us hurry. We are late.”

  Leslie relaxed, almost sagging against Cutter. She was grateful he had refused to be separated from her. Of course, she could have managed by herself, but his tall, muscular presence was very reassuring. She glanced up at him as they left the restaurant. “Thank you.”

  Cutter glanced down in surprise. “You’re welcome. What are you thanking me for?”

  “For insisting that you come with me.”

  “I couldn’t let you go by yourself.”

  “Why not?”

  He looked nonplussed, then shrugged. It had never occurred to him to allow the police to take her away by herself. “You must know some pretty weird men.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “That you would think I’d leave you to face the Policía Nacional by yourself.”

  “But you’re only an employee.”

  “Pardon me,” he retorted sarcastically. “I realize that makes me lower than the low, but I do have a few principles.”

  “No! I didn’t mean it that way. I just meant that I don’t have any claim on you.”

  “However stupid it was of me to do it, I agreed to bring you into this country. You’re my responsibility,” he replied shortly.

  “I can’t believe you’re arguing with me even when I try to thank you.”

  They were escorted to a small black sedan, also a vintage Saab but in better condition than the taxi they had ridden in the day before. The officers sat rigidly in the front seat, and Leslie and Cutter took the back. Not a word was said throughout the entire
trip. The car pulled up in front of an imposing gray building, and the junior officer hopped out to open his superior’s door. The senior officer walked with them into the building and up the elevator to the fifth floor, where he left them with a slightly built, expressionless young man whom Leslie assumed must be Maldenado’s assistant. It seemed rather anticlimactic, she thought, to have been brought by the fearsome Policía Nacional and then be delivered to an ordinary clerk.

  It was thirty minutes before Maldenado appeared, and Leslie was thinking with some irritation of the breakfast they had been forced to abandon. However, just as she was building up to giving the assistant a piece of her mind, the door to the inner office opened, and a short, pudgy individual emerged, smiling and smoothing his moustache nervously. “Ah, Señora Harper. Excuse, I have much remorse for my ah, lateness. It is word, si?”

  “Good thing I came along,” Cutter murmured, and Leslie couldn’t suppress a smile.

  “Yes, that’s the word. How do you do, Mr. Maldenado?” Leslie extended her hand to the man. “It’s nice to meet you after speaking to you on the phone so often over the past weeks.” At that time his English had been much surer and she had a feeling this was some sort of manipulation on his part, though she didn’t fully understand the purpose. “May I introduce Mr. Cutter? He was good enough to come along to interpret for us. I’m afraid I know almost no Spanish.”

  “I see.” He gave Cutter an appraising stare, his eyes betraying a shrewdness that his acquiescing manner seemed tailored to hide. “Such kind consideration. But I am able to speak English. There is no need for an interpreter.” His syntax suddenly improved by leaps and bounds.

  “Still, I prefer to have an interpreter, just to make sure there are no misunderstandings.” Leslie gave him her most charming smile.

  “Of course. Mr. Cutter is welcome. Come in, please.”

  He ushered them into his office and sat down behind the imposing desk. “Now. How can I help you?”