She didn’t know any other five-hundred-percent males. Maybe there weren’t any. Maybe this was the only male in her particular universe who pushed certain triggers that had never been pushed before, who aroused a cacophony of sensations that she hadn’t realized existed before. She didn’t think those things. She just sort of felt…awash. In him. His presence, his textures, his scent.
He broke free from the kiss connection, reared up his head, looked at her with a frown-a frown darker than a thundercloud. He started to speak, then seemed to remember she couldn’t hear, and started to shake his head to communicate that way.
She went back for another kiss.
He’d been the kidnapper, but he didn’t have all the power. She hadn’t had any power in a long, long time. She’d been overwhelmed by everyone and everything. She was sick of it.
Being overwhelmed by sensation, now, was a different thing. That she could have power over him was enticing. Beyond enticing. She’d never remotely experienced feeling wicked before. She discovered that she liked it.
Possibly his back was breaking from the contorted posture he’d been trying to maintain, because when she surged up to try another kiss, to steal another taste, he suddenly lost all that perfect control of his. One second, she was sweetly claiming his mouth…the next second, he’d taken a dive into the bed, on her, with her. In a swirl and twist of covers, she was suddenly tangled with him, length to length, his arms swooped around her this time, his mouth taking hers.
One of her arms got trapped between the tussle of blankets and bodies. It wasn’t fair; he had both his arms free, one slivering through her hair, then stroking down her back, kneading and rubbing, spine to hip and back up again.
He kissed differently than she had. His kisses involved tongues and teeth. Pressure. Invitation. Demand. The I-Want was bold, not subtle, out there like an open plane door, a chance of skydiving with no parachute, all risk, all…
All wonder.
All thrilling wonder.
“Hey.” He broke away suddenly, breathing like a racing engine. “We can’t…you can’t…I can’t-hey.” His face was flushed, his eyes on fire. For her. At her. His face looked as fierce as a warrior’s-but definitely not a happy warrior as he pushed up and away from her. He yanked the sheets up to her neck, and then hurled out of bed as if a fire were chasing him.
For a few seconds he stormed around the room, then whirled back, pointing the royal finger at her. The gesture for no was certainly crystal clear. Then he went out the door and slammed it.
Apparently this hearing thing was going to come and go indiscriminately, because she definitely heard the door slam. She could probably have heard it in Siberia.
Carolina wasn’t sure what was going on-what she was doing, what she was risking or not risking. But she was positive about one thing. Her kidnapper was a fine man.
She’d heard his story, about how he’d been estranged from his father and family for a long time. Except for Tommy. And Maguire knew her story, at least the part about her helping Tommy, and the how and why his father had left her with such an extraordinary hefty inheritance.
So Maguire certainly wasn’t a kidnapper in the usual sense. He had more money of his own than he could ever need. And he obviously didn’t begrudge her the chunk from his dad, since he’d been treating her like a pampered princess.
She pushed up from the pillow, thinking that she’d learned a lot of information… yet seemed to have even more questions than she had before.
She kept having the strangest feeling…that Maguire was the one who needed her, instead of the other way around. Of course, that didn’t make sense. Her head still wasn’t right. Her heart, her head, her whole body seemed to be nonstop exhausted, in some fuzzy state where she couldn’t think clearly no matter what.
Like now. With her mouth still feeling bruised from his kisses, her skin feeling electrified where he’d touched, that sense of impending fall-off-a-cliff still skimming through her blood…she closed her eyes and inhaled an amazing sense of contentment. She felt hungry for the first time in weeks. Within her, a smile was starting from the inside out, for the first time since she could remember.
Clearly she was still weak and crazy, and Maguire was the voice of sanity.
But just for that instant…it didn’t feel that way.
Two days later, Carolina found herself on a plane. Not the same fancy private jet they’d flown on before. This one was bigger, had a pilot and copilot up front, and a third man who’d been functioning as a butler, bringing platter after platter from the jet’s galley.
Wilbur, the butler, had elegant white hair, the impeccable posture of a British lord, a face carved in strict expressionless lines and a fabulous wink. He’d started serving their dinner ten minutes ago. It was still coming. The table set up between her and Maguire was heaped with dishes. Lush bowls of hot butter. A tray of tools. Massive bowls of king crab. And initially, of course, bibs bigger than nightgowns.
Maguire was eating with her. But he wasn’t talking. He’d barely said a word to her since those unexpectedly wild kisses two mornings ago. He’d been running around nonstop, scowling half the time, acting ultrabusy. He’d used the netbook to inform her they were flying east, a good trip, not to worry.
She wasn’t worried and hadn’t asked. She’d wanted to think about that unexpected sexual encounter herself before tackling Maguire again. But once they started stuffing themselves with the rich, juicy, succulent crab-one of her favorite meals in the universe-she started talking.
“My hearing’s coming back again,” she announced.
He looked up. “Good.”
He added nothing else, but that was fine with Carolina. She wanted to be the one to direct the conversation this time.
“I was hoping you wouldn’t mind telling me some more about how Tommy’s doing.”
He hesitated, but not for long. “Since last summer, I think you’d find his progress has been amazing. He’ll never be normal-”
“Normal’s a meaningless word, as far as I’m concerned. He was always happy by nature.”
“He still is. But he’s talking now. Not perfectly, but he’s able to communicate. He stopped having the seizures, the fierce headaches. Something is seriously weird about his brain wiring. Nobody seems to be able to completely identify or fix it. But he’s amazingly better, thanks to you, with a much happier picture for a future.”
“I wasn’t looking for thanks, Maguire. I just remember him. I care what’s been happening with him.”
Maguire was far more skilled at handling the crab than she was.
She had to work twice as hard to scoop out half as much of the sweet white meat-but damn. It was fun.
“My father always claimed to love Tommy, but his method of caring was to throw treatments and programs at him. Nothing was too expensive. But typical of my dad, that meant that Tommy was primarily seen and raised by various professional people. Strangers. Not people who were really listening to him, looking at him, day by day. You listened.”
“Quit it, Maguire. I wasn’t looking for praise or thanks. I wanted to hear more about the progress he’s made since the surgery. What programs he’s part of now.”
He nodded. “Hopefully, sometime over the next couple weeks you’ll get a chance to see him.”
“Really? I’d love that.” For a few seconds she was diverted from eating the butter-dripping crab. “I’m not sure if he’ll still remember me, but-”
“Trust me. He remembers you.”
Wilbur had brought bowls, warm water with squeezed lemons, for them to wash their hands. She didn’t want to give up eating, but she didn’t expect to have Maguire trapped like this forever. So she rinsed, wiped, removed the gigantic bib and sat back. “You’re clearly happy with what I did for Tommy. But I still find it upsetting that you leaped into my life since I turned into…well, into a fruitcake. So I’d like to explain the fruitcake thing.”
“You don’t have to.”
She said quiet
ly, “Yeah. I really do.” She took a breath and then just started in. “The day the lawyer called, to tell me about the inheritance, I was…beyond stunned. Obviously I know I helped your little brother. But it’s not as if I did anything brave or spectacular. It was just…luck. I work with enough special kids to notice those different symptoms in Tommy.”
“Luck might have been part of it. But you cared enough to step in. To fight for him,” Maguire said brusquely.
“Well. Whatever. The point is…everyone in my world was thrilled for me. My parents. My sister. Aunts and uncles, friends, everyone. We never had much growing up, so the first thing I did for my dad was buy him a new car. He’d never had a new one before. He always bought used, so new was a treat. And my mom…for years she’d been dreaming about having a new kitchen with a double oven. I started out having so much fun with the money, I can’t begin to tell you. Only, that changed. Pretty quickly.”
Maguire finally finished eating, sank back while Wilbur took away the evidence of their feast and then disappeared into the front cabin with the crew. Carolina doggedly talked on.
“I started getting nonstop calls. One was a school for special kids, who wanted me to donate the money for a wing. Then my dad. He got really upset because he thought I should make him into my manager, instead of hiring an accountant. Then my sister…she asked me to fund her two kids’ college educations. I did. In fact, I was happy to do that. Only…it just went on and on…”
Maguire handed her a soda, as if sensing her throat was dry.
It was. But that didn’t stop her from talking.
“I had one second cousin-twice removed-who had a son who got in trouble with the law. I’m not trying to be funny. The relationship was so distant that I barely knew who he was, and I had only met him once in my life. But he wanted me to pay the attorney fees. Then my sister wanted a new house. I was getting phone calls almost 24/7. Life insurance. Security. Real-estate people. Stockbrokers. Cancer, heart, diabetes, prosthetics, Lou Gehrig’s disease…I’m not sure how all these strangers knew I’d gotten this inheritance. And they’re all good causes, Maguire. Things I do care about. But my life just got…insane. I couldn’t take a bath or read a book. I couldn’t come home at all, without the phone ringing or someone pounding at the door.” She lifted a hand. “I woke up one morning to find a homeless woman on my doorstep.”
Maguire didn’t interrupt, just kept looking at her with those silvery blue eyes, as if the only thing on his mind or in his heart was to listen to her.
“For a while, I was still teaching. I mean, I thought my life would basically be the same. Sure, I’d have this fabulous nest egg and some luxuries, but I was still a teacher at heart. It’s who I am, what I do. Only, the kids I teach are uniquely vulnerable, so when strangers started bugging me at school, the kids were affected. The principal gave me a five-star review for my job performance, yet at the same time he suggested I leave. Everything was different. People, my friends, the other teachers… I was expected to pay if we went out to lunch. Or I wasn’t included because I was suddenly perceived as different. I had men calling me. Men I’d never met. Men I never wanted to meet. And then there was a break-in-it was just weeks after the inheritance. I hadn’t really made many changes in my apartment. Well, some. The one thing I did pretty quickly was get a new computer, because mine was six years old and I was getting the blue screen of death all the time-”
Maguire shot her a look. He didn’t roll his eyes, but she got the gist.
“Okay,” she said, “I know I’m digressing. The break-in was the point. It really shook my timbers. But even worse was the steady round of lawyers and security people calling after that. And I forgot. There was a neighbor who came over, lost her husband, was hoping I could pay her rent for a while. Then…my father’s second aunt’s grandson’s wife was pregnant with a baby that needed some kind of expensive operation-”
“Carolina?”
“What?”
“I know all this,” he said patiently. “I’m surprised you didn’t cave long before you did. The way the doctors explained that ‘hysterical deafness’…it was your body giving you permission to shut down and quit listening to everyone’s demands. Losing your hearing was self-defense.”
“Whatever. Here’s the thing I wanted to say. You know what? This is really your family’s money. Not mine. Why don’t I just give it back to you.”
“No. Not an option.”
“Just listen to me, all right? I’ve lost just about everything that matters to me. My job. The family relationships I thought were strong and solid. Friends. The things I loved to do, loved to be part of, always took for granted. And you know what?”
Maguire wiped a hand over his face, tucked his chin on a fist. “What?”
“When you first kidnapped me, I kept thinking how weird it was…that I wasn’t afraid. But now I actually get it. Because my reality is that I couldn’t be a happier kidnappee. I don’t want to go home right now. I really don’t.”
“And you’re not.”
“But all those problems’ll go away if you just take the money back. Wouldn’t you like all those millions?” she asked coaxingly.
Maguire got this expression on his face as if he were fighting not to laugh. Fighting to believe she was for real. “I have more than enough money than I could ever use or want, Cee. So, no.”
“Okay then. How about for Tommy? How about if I give it all to Tommy?”
“Tommy couldn’t use another penny in his lifetime. He’s got a fortune. All in safe, secure trust funds.”
Still. She was warming up to the idea. “You could burn it if you wanted to. Or throw it away. I always thought I wanted heaps of it. That it’d be so much fun to buy anything I wanted. That I’d feel so much safer if I had security in the bank. And that’s been the craziest part. It’s not fun. And I don’t think I’ll ever feel safe again.”
“Yes, you will,” he said quietly, forcefully. “You can make different choices-”
“I know, I know. I could always choose to just give it all away. And in principle, I’d love to do that. To pick people and causes who really needed something, or someone, to come through for them. Only, Maguire, I learned the hard way that it’ll never be like that. Because no matter who I give to, someone else will be mad that it wasn’t them. Or mad that I didn’t give enough.”
“But there’s still another choice-”
“I know, I know. You think I haven’t thought this through? I could start all over under an assumed name. That has a lot of appeal. You probably think it’s the best choice. I mean, I’ve been whining about what awful people my family and friends have turned into, haven’t I? But I just can’t see giving them totally up quite yet. I mean, they’re my whole history. Warts and all, they’re still my blood. Maybe my life is broken right now…but getting even more broken doesn’t make any more sense, does it?”
“No. And there really is another choice, Carolina.”
“What?”
But just then Wilbur emerged from the front cabin, ordering them to strap in because they were “imminently landing.”
For the first time in hours, she glanced out the window. She hadn’t asked where they were going-didn’t really care-and her internal time clock was so topsy-turvy that she didn’t have a clue what time it was. But there was some kind of ambient pale light outside, enough to reveal breathtaking, snow-covered mountains, higher than any she’d either seen or dreamed of.
“Where are we?”
“In the air,” Maguire said dryly.
She flashed him a look. “I might just sock you on general principle. Answer the question.”
“We’re at one of the places that’s going to help you find the answers you’re looking for.”
“I hate cryptic. Just so you know.”
“All right. I’ll answer you straight. We’re going to a place where you’re going to get good and muddy. Muddier than you’ve ever been in your entire life.”
“Muddy? Huh?”
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Chapter Five
He meant it. The crazy man actually meant it. Carolina remembered the lists he’d made her create, that somewhere she’d mentioned wanting to sleep in a real castle, something else about wanting a spa weekend. At the time, she’d thought the whole thing was a joke. Nothing anyone would take seriously.
Yet the green mud completely slathering her body was unquestionably real.
And so was the castle.
“You’re not too cold, mam’selle? Too warm?”
“I’m perfect,” Carolina assured the tall Amazon with the serene blue eyes and hands of steel.
“Are you thirsty? Would you care for a drink?”
The last time she’d admitted to thirst, Greta had given her some god-awful herbal concoction that made her eyes sting and her tongue pucker. It wasn’t safe around here to admit wanting or needing anything.
“I’m fine,” she said.
“All right. Now, you close your eyes. I’ll be back in thirty minutes, after the clay has set.”
The mud-clay had already started setting. She was increasingly feeling like a naked mummy. A naked green mummy. The castle was located in the Alps-whether Swiss or French or Italian, she had no idea. But it was perched on a cliff top, accessible only via helicopter, and the once-classic structure had been turned into an elegantly exotic spa. The place had a great room draped with impossibly tall silk tapestries. The fireplaces in half the rooms were bigger than she was. The floors were all stone or marble, but heated beneath the floor, so it was warm walking around, even in bare feet. Fountains decorated almost all the rooms, as did candles. The view outside was of treacherously tall mountains, draped with a white ermine cape of snow. Inside was luxury, pampering, softness, gentle music.
“You’re surviving in there, Cee?”
She heard him. Maguire’s sexy tenor was unmistakable. He was in the next room-sort of an anteroom he’d turned into a makeshift office. It had a laptop, printer, fax, all the usual office suspects, although she hadn’t once heard a telephone ring. She concluded Maguire had forbidden telephones anywhere near her.
The Billionaire’s Handler Page 5
