Always

One

Clancy Donahue leaned back in the plush visitor's chair and stretched his long legs out before him. So she arrived four days ago in Paradise Cay," he commented. His eyes narrowed as Len Berthold nodded, then nervously shifted papers on the desk before him. "And what the hell's wrong with you, Len? You're acting skittish as the devil."

"I am skittish." Berthold grimaced. "I don't like being part of one of your games, Clancy. I'm an administrator now, out of the line of fire. I'd like it just fine if you set your little trap somewhere else."

"Too bad," Clancy said, and shrugged. "Your safe haven was the most convenient place to put the bait." His indolent position hadn't changed, but he was suddenly exuding a force that was almost tangible. "Paradise Cay is one of Sedikhan's possessions; this hotel casino is in Paradise Cay. Imade you manage here two years ago because you're tough, honest, and obey orders." His voice lowered to a silky murmur. "Do I have to tell you what would happen if I found you lacking in any of those qualities?"

Len moistened his lips. No, Donahue didn't have to tell him. It was all right there in the expression in those ice-blue eyes. He had known Donahue, security chief and right-hand man to Alex Ben Raschid, reigning head of Sedikhan, for over six years. Personally he had never run across a situation that didn't yield to the power Donahue wielded so effortlessly. But he had heard stories about the security chiefs more direct methods, a number of which were violent and ruthless.

From the time word arrived that Donahue was flying in to handle personally the Landon matter, Len had known his comfortable berth here in Paradise Cay would probably heat up to a far from comfortable temperature. He cleared his throat. "It was just a comment, Clancy. You know I'll cooperate fully. I've obeyed your instructions to the letter. The Landon woman has been singing in the cafe since night before last." He frowned thoughtfully. "You know, she's not bad. She's got…" He hesitated as if searching for the appropriate word, then shrugged. "I don't know. Something."

"I'm not here to enjoy her singing talents," Clancy said a bit sarcastically. "Have you got Galbraith watching her?"

"Of course; I've had her under total surveillance since the moment she checked in." Berthold smiled faintly. "I haven't gotten that soft in the head since I left your service. She hasn't drawn abreath that we haven't known about. Baldwin definitely hasn't contacted her yet. I've also had a man calling the other hotels on the island every evening, and no man of his description has checked in."

Donahue frowned. "You're sure?"

"I'm sure. We circulated copies of that picture you sent of course. He hasn't shown." Berthold brightened. "Maybe he's lost interest in the woman."

"No way. He'll show," Clancy said grimly. "Wherever Lisa Landon appears, he pops up like a jack-in-the-box. He's obsessed with her, and obsessions like that don't just lose their hold all of a sudden."

"But she divorced him over three years ago, according to what you told me," Berthold said. "Maybe he's finally taken the hint that he's not wanted."

Clancy shook his head. "She's an obsession," he repeated. "It's all in the dossier we've compiled on him: Jealous scenes, violence, even public threats. The works. He'll be here all right. He keeps a very close eye on the ex-Mrs. Baldwin. What time is she performing tonight?"

"The second show is at ten o'clock." Berthold glanced at the thin gold watch on his wrist. "That'll be about fifteen minutes from now. Do you want to watch it?"

Donahue nodded as he rose to his feet. "I'm going to talk to her tonight after the show to try to get her cooperation."

"And if not?"

"We'll use her anyway." His smile was a merebaring of teeth. "I want that bastard Baldwin so bad I can taste it. Where's Galbraith now?"

"He should be in the cafe."

"Good." For a moment there was a thread of mischief in Clancy's smile. "Sorry to be a disgrace to your exclusive establishment, Len, but I won't have time to change. You'd better phone your headwaiter and tell him not to throw me out."

"I doubt if he'd try that." Berthold's glance traveled over Clancy's tall, massive build that did look, as if it belonged more in a heavyweight boxing ring than an exclusive nightclub. Berthold remembered suddenly that Clancy had told him he had been a fighter once. But then Clancy had been something of a jack-of-all-trades before he became security chief of Sedikhan-and definitely master of the more lethal ones. "I will give Monty a ring, though, and tell him to extend all courtesies."

"Do that." Clancy turned to leave, moving with the lithe grace of absolute fitness and trained coordination. "I'm tired as hell and not in any mood for a hassle."

"Have you checked into the hotel or shall I do it for you?"

Clancy paused at the door. "I'll stay at my villa down the beach. It's close enough so that I can be on the spot in five minutes if I need to be. I'm tired of living in hotels. I've spent the last six weeks moving from Pity to city on Baldwin's trail." He took a key ring out of his pocket and tossed it across the room. It landed on the blotter in front of Berthold. "Send a maid down to open the villa for me right away, will you?" He didn't wait for an answer but shut the door behind him and set off briskly.

As he crossed the lushly Garpeted foyer of the reception area, he made an effort to relax the tense muscles in his neck and shoulders. He hadn't lied when he'd told Len Berthold he was tired. He hadn't slept more than a few hours today on the long flight from Los Angeles to this tiny island in the Bahamas. L.A. had been a blind alley, too, dammit, he thought. Baldwin had gone underground without a ripple. Oh, well, if he couldn't find the rat's bolthole, he'd wait patiently until that rodent ventured out to nibble at his favorite delicacy, namely Lisa Landon.

The cafe was small and darkly intimate, like a thousand others he'd seen over the years. Postage-stamp-sized tables were covered with white damask cloths; candles in translucent cylinders cast half shadows over the faces of the guests speaking in quiet tones over drinks and hors d'oeuvres. A trio was playing soft, evocative jazz on the tiny stage at the far end of the room, and Clancy paused a moment in the doorway to listen. He'd always liked jazz. That fact had never failed to surprise Alex, and he could understand why. Jazz was the most lazily sensual and mellow music on the face of the earth, and laziness, mellowness, and sensuality were qualities that were absent in his personality. He was highly sexed and required women fairly frequently, but it was always just a hunger to be appeased and then forgotten. Sensuality required softer, gentler emotions, the kind his profession had allowed little time to cultivate. Still, he did like jazz, and this trio was surprisingly good.

"Clancy?"

His head swiveled quickly to the left. Galbraith.

"John." Clancy nodded in acknowledgment to the man standing close to him. Galbraith was dressed in impeccable evening clothes and blended into his elegant surroundings with the adaptability of a chameleon. His features were handsome, but not too handsome. His brown hair was cut in a trendy but not avant-garde style, and his smile was as deceptively cheerful and wholesome as a college boy's. Not that college kids were more wholesome than anyone else these days, Clancy thought wearily. Childhood didn't last much past puberty in a world as crisis-shadowed as this one. "Do you have a table?"

Galbraith gestured. "Ringside. I usually sit toward the back when I'm doing surveillance, but I thought you'd prefer to have a closer look at her. You said on the phone that you were going to talk to Tier, anyway." He turned and led the way through the thickly clustered tables. He dropped into a chair at the ringside table he'd indicated and picked up a half-empty highball glass. His eyes, set deep in his round, tanned face, were as bright and inquisitive as a squirrel's. "You look really beat, Clancy. What the hell have you been doing to yourself?"

"The usual." Clancy sat down and shook his head at the waiter who paused to look at him inquiringly. He wanted to keep a clear head, and he was too tired to risk even the slightest alcohol haze. "No sign of Baldwin?"

"Not one. She's made no telephone calls since she's been here. She takes long walks on the beach every day, but she doesn't speak to anyone." He shrugged. "Or no one important. She stopped thisafternoon and helped a little kid build a sand castle.

Then she came back to the hotel, rehearsed with the trio, and had dinner in her room. She does two shows a night here and then goes back to her room. \o men since she's arrived on the island."

"Not off the island, either," Clancy said slowly.

"Odd. It could mean she's still carrying a torch for Baldwin." His lips twisted. "Or maybe she's frigid and that's the challenge she poses for him."

"No." Galbraith said quickly and with utmost certainty. Then, as Clancy looked at him in surprise, he muttered sheepishly, "I mean, I can't imagine her being cold to anyone she cared about."

"She seems to have impressed you," Clancy said.

"Is the lady that much of a femme fatale?" Galbraith shifted uncomfortably. "No. Hell, you Know I've never had a thing for older women."

"And she's all of thirty-seven. Practically ancient," Clancy said dryly. "She must be very beautiful to make you overlook her rapidly advancing decrepitude."

"No." Galbraith was frowning abstractedly and Clancy doubted if he even caught the sarcasm. "At least, I don't think she is. It's hard to tell." He made a little gesture with one hand. "She's just got something…"

"That's what Berthold said." Clancy smiled faintly. "I'm beginning to be a bit curious about this singer who makes tough bastards like the two of you inarticulate. Does this phenomenon have a decent voice, or shall I put on my ear plugs?" "She's damn good," Galbraith said. "Too goodfor a place like this. She reminds me a little of Streisand."

Clancy lifted a brow. "Praise indeed. I can hardly wait to hear the lady and formulate my own definition of that special 'something' you think she has."

"Well, you won't have to wait long." Galbraith nodded at the pianist, who had pulled a stool in front of the microphone and was carefully adjusting it. "She's on right now."

The introduction by the pianist was straightforward and without fanfare, and so was the woman who walked gracefully to the microphone and sat down on the stool. She was dressed in an elegantly tailored, long-sleeved white silk blouse and an ankle-length black evening skirt that had a vaguely Edwardian air except for the long center slit that reached mid thigh. She was tall, Clancy noticed, and gracefully fine-boned instead of sexy as he had expected. Her long hair was a shade somewhere between light brown and honey and was drawn cleanly away from her face and fastened in back with a barrette. It was difficult to make out her features in the dimness of the cafe, but they didn't appear exceptionally attractive. Then the spotlight came on.

Warmth. Gentle warmth in wide-set brown eyes. Her face held a touch of sadness in repose, but then she smiled. Sensitive, beautifully shaped lips smiled suddenly at the audience with such loving kindness that it made Clancy feel oddly breathless. "Hello, I'm Lisa. I have a few songs I'm going to sing for you tonight." She spoke with a casual intimacy as if to a room filled with old friends. "Then I'm going to take requests." She made a face. "Please,no opera. Madame Butterfly I'm not." She chuckled in delight as she heard the whisper of laughter around the room, and Clancy felt again a queer half-aching tug at his emotions. What the hell was happening to him? "Ready?" She nodded at the pianist, who started the introduction. "Here we go."

During the next forty-five minutes Clancy realized that Galbraith and Berthold were right: Lisa Landon was good. Her clear, bell-like notes held a hint of power skillfully restrained, and the emotion she conveyed was amazing. But he could scarcely appreciate her talent because his attention was focused on the woman, not the singer. The nervous, graceful hands that moved in impulsive gestures. The line of her creamy throat that rose from the stark white 'of her blouse. What a beautiful throat. Camellia soft, yet breathing, pulsing with life as no flower ever could. And that smile… His lips curved in a self-mocking grin as he realized how poetic he was waxing. When aroused he was usually more interested in breasts and hips than throats and smiles. And there was no question that he was aroused now. There was an aching in his groin that was bewildering in its intensity and filled him with a faint sense of anger. It was a totally illogical reaction. The woman wasn't even that attractive. She was too thin and her mouth was a little large. Her legs were lovely, he admitted grudgingly, and heaven only knew that she was showing enough of them in that slit skirt.

Possessiveness. Damn, the emotion had slipped into his thoughts without his even being aware ofit. When had he ever felt possessive about any woman? And this woman was a complete stranger.

The round of requests had ended now and Lisa Landon slipped from the stool and smiled again. Then she was gone from the stage as quickly as she had come.

Galbraith leaned forward and grinned at Clancy. "Well, have you defined the 'something' the lady's got?"

Me. She's got me. The answer emerged swiftly and instinctively from the jumble of emotions that was whirling within Clancy. He rejected the thought as quickly as it came. "Character," he said lightly. "And maturity. I can see how a boy like you would be dazzled by those qualities. The pretty dolls I've seen you squiring around have a few years to go before they begin acquiring them."

"The pretty dolls are entertaining," Galbraith drawled. "And I think that old poker face of yours slipped enough so that I could see you were dazzled by the qualities of the lady."

"You're getting fresh, John." Clancy pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. "Remind me to slap you down the next time you annoy me. It will do wonders for your own character development."

Galbraith grimaced. "I won't have to remind you. You remember everything. Unfortunately. I suppose you're going backstage. Do you want me to wait and continue surveillance?"

Clancy hesitated. "No," he said slowly. "I'll take care of it."

Galbraith's brows lifted in surprise. "Really? It must be years since you did any chore as plebeian as surveillance. Are you sure you remember how?"

"Fresh." Clancy enunciated the word distinctly. "Very fresh. I assure you I'll muddle through."

Galbraith's cheeky grin faded as he silently cursed himself. It wasn't safe to bait Clancy who, when he lost patience, could turn and mete out punishment efficiently. Galbraith held up his hands. "Joking." He smiled. "I'm no fool, Clancy. I know what you are."

"It's nice that you're so confident of your perceptiveness," Clancy said with a slightly enigmatic smile. "There are times when I'm not at all sure that I know." He turned and walked swiftly across the tiny dance floor to the arched doorway through which Lisa Landon had disappeared.

The knock on the dressing room door was brisk and authoritative.

Lisa tensed, then consciously forced herself to relax. It couldn't be he. She'd seen no sign of Martin since she'd arrived here. She mustn't let her imagination run wild just because a knock on the door was demanding instead of politely perfunctory. She reached for a tissue and began wiping the cream from her face. "Come in."

"For God's sake, didn't anyone ever tell you that you don't leave your door unlocked and invite just anyone who's on the other side to come in?" The man who stood in the doorway was frowning and his voice was harsh. "For all you knew, I could have been Jack the Ripper."

Her eyes widened in surprise as she turned away from the mirror to look at him. "You're not Jack the Ripper," she muttered. The man did look dangerous though. He stood well over six feet with the broad shoulders and the deep chest of a longshoreman. His features were rough and craggy, with broad cheekbones and a nose that had been broken at some time or other. He had the golden tan of a man who lived in the hot sun of the tropics, and his hair might once have been raven dark but was now flecked with silver. He gave the impression of a man fully mature, fully in control, and very used to having his own way. She found herself instinctively rebelling against him. She'd had her fill of men who wanted their own way. She lifted her chin. "It's true you could be just as disreputable as Jack the Ripper. So perhaps you should leave."

His expression didn't change, but she had the impression she'd surprised him. Suddenly he smiled with a beguiling warmth. The transformation of his rough-hewn face gave her a little shock.

"I was rude, wasn't I? You'll have to forgive me." There was the faintest trace of a brogue in his deep voice. "I've always been too blunt. It's one of my greatest faults. My name is Clancy Donahue, Miss Landon. I'd like to talk to you, if I may." His blue eyes were suddenly twinkling. "I'll let you search me if it will make you feel any safer. I'm totally without weapons of any sort."

She doubted that. There was nothing in the least defenseless about Clancy Donahue. His wickedly appealing smile caused her to smile in return. "I'll trust you. Come in, Mr. Donahue. What can I do for you?" She resumed wiping the cream from her face.

He closed the door and the size of the dressing room seemed to shrink. "I want your cooperation."

He came forward to stand before her. "You've missed a spot. Here, let me." He took the tissue and carefully wiped the blob of cream from her temple. For someone with such large hands, he was very gentle. It was an intimate gesture performed with surprising matter-of-factness. "There. That does it." He tossed the tissue on the vanity. "I like you better without makeup. Your skin is really quite extraordinary." He spoke almost abstractedly. "So white and soft. Like a camellia. I was thinking that while I was watching you sing tonight."

"You were in the audience?" She couldn't hide her surprise as she glanced at his casual jeans and navy crew-neck sweater. She had known the head-waiter for only a few days, but she was aware that Monty was snobbish and rigid about his precious dress code.

Clancy's lips twisted. "I have friends in high places."

"You must." Lisa wished he'd move away from her. She could feel the heat emanating from his big body even though he was no longer touching her, and she was conscious of the clean scent of soap and an after-shave that smelled vaguely minty. She'd been shockingly aware of the physical presence of the man since he'd walked in the door, and she wasn't sure she liked having her composure disturbed. She had fought too long and too hard to gain that composure. Nodding, she gestured to the chair across the room. "Won't you sit down?" He moved away at once and she let her breath out in a little rush. How stupid to feel threatened because he was a virile male and she was merely experiencing a very natural sexual chemistry. "You said something about cooperation?"

He dropped into the chair she'd indicated. "In my search for Martin Baldwin," he said bluntly. "I think you can deliver him to me." She stiffened. "You're a policeman?" He shook his head. "I'm with the Sedikhan Security Service. Your ex-husband and his 'company' have been running guns to a group of terrorists based across the border from Sedikhan in Said Ababa." His expression hardened. "I don't like men who make money off of that terror any more than I like the terrorists themselves. I want very much to find Baldwin."

Lisa moistened her lips. Oh, dear Lord, would it never end? "Then go find him," she said quietly. "It has nothing to do with me."

"I need you. Baldwin knows I'm looking for him and has gone underground. The only person who can make him come out of hiding is you."

She lowered her lashes to veil her.eyes. "We're not married any longer. I have nothing to do with Martin these days."

"Not willingly, perhaps." Clancy shrugged. "But he still wants you. Would you like me to quote a few instances of Baldwin's pathological jealousy? You lost a very good job in Las Vegas because Baldwin made a scene and threatened to cut a customer's throat. That was about a year ago, wasn't it? There have been two other ugly scenes since that I can think of offhand. I have the dossier in my suitcase if you'd like to review it."

"No," she said numbly. Of course he would have a dossier on her. All policemen had their damneddossiers. She should know that by now. "I just want to be left alone. I'm not involved in Martin's activities. I never have been."

"I know," he said in a gentle tone. "But you'll remain involved as long as he's in your life. Give him to me and I'll promise to remove him." He paused deliberately. "Permanently."

Her gaze lifted swiftly to his. She smiled with an effort. "You sound quite lethal. The last I heard, gun running wasn't a capital offense."

"Perhaps not in the U.S., but in Sedikhan it's a different situation entirely." He smiled with a touch of cold ferocity. "Alex leaves judgments of that nature up to me."

"Alex?"

"Alex Ben Raschid, the sheikh of Sedikhan. Alex is a very busy man these days. I assure you I have full power to act for him. Is it a deal?"

"You'd kill him?" Lisa whispered.

"Perhaps; I haven't decided as yet. In any event, he won't be around to bother you again. Isn't that what you want?"

She shivered. "Not that way. I could never be that cold-blooded."

His lips tightened. "Baldwin is a hell of a lot more cold-blooded than you could ever dream of being. What kind of man do you think would furnish hand grenades and dynamite to terrorists when he knows damn well they'll be used to blow up schoolbuses and supermarkets? Two children were killed last year in Marasef and several more were injured. I can't touch the terrorists as long as Said Ababa is protecting them, but I can stop their flow of weapons." He paused. "I can stop Baldwin."

"Children were hurt?" She felt suddenly sick. How could Martin do these things? It was unbelievable.

Clancy nodded curtly. "Will you help me?"

She drew a deep breath. "I can't."

"You can. But you won't. Perhaps you're one of those women who get some sort of kinky thrill out of being desired by a bastard like that. Maybe it's a little game the two of you play."

"A game!" Her brown eyes were blazing. "Do you think I enjoy having my career slowly destroyed in the most humiliating way possible? That I like being afraid every time I hear a knock on the door that it will be him and the whole sordid mess will start again? You're a very stupid man, Mr. Donahue."

"Then give him to me," Clancy said relentlessly. "Cooperate."

"I can't, dammit." She jumped to her feet. "He was my husband. I had his child. It doesn't matter what he did. I can't be your Judas goat. Not and still live with myself."

"Child?" Clancy repeated slowly.

She could feel the blood drain from her face. Don't think about it; keep the pain at bay, she silently commanded herself. "Didn't your neat little reports mention that?" she asked bitterly. "Perhaps your informants didn't consider the birth of my little boy important. It wasn't exactly a world-shaking event." Her voice dropped to a husky whisper. "Except to me."

"I'm sure it must have been in the report. I must have overlooked it." Clancy found his hands unconsciously tightening on the arms of the chair.

The idea of her bearing that bastard's child filled him with a totally irrational rage.

"How careless of you." She wouldn't cry. Oh, God, she had thought all the tears had been shed long ago. Why were her eyes stinging with them now? Firmly she blinked the moisture away and lifted her chin. "But you can see that I wouldn't be able to do as you ask."

"You refuse?"

She nodded. "I'm sorry, but you'll have to catch Martin on your own. You'll get no help from me."

"I'm sorry too." A fleeting expression of regret was replaced by a look of fierce determination. "I wanted your cooperation. I don't like using force unless it's absolutely necessary."

"Force!" Her eyes widened with disbelief. "How could you possibly force me?"

"Very painlessly, I hope. Once you realize that I hold all the cards, I think you'll be sensible." He sat forward. "Let me tell you exactly what you're going to do. You'll continue to sing here until Baldwin shows up." His lips twisted. "And we both know he'll do so eventually. It's obvious that I can't convince you to tip my man when you see him, but you're not to blow our surveillance to Baldwin, either. Once he's spotted, we'll move in and take over."

She shook her head as if to clear it. "Didn't you hear me? I won't help you. Not actively nor passively.

If you expect Martin to show up here, then I'll leave. I have only two more nights to this engagement anyway."

"Wrong," he said succinctly. "I didn't bring you here to let you go before you served my purpose.

You're the bait that's going to lure my rat out of the woodwork."

"You didn't bring…" Understanding suddenly dawned. "You arranged for me to come here to Paradise Cay? What do you have to do with this place?"

He shrugged. "The island is a Sedikhan possession and so is most of the real estate on it. That's not widely known since Alex purchased it only two years ago, so Baldwin shouldn't learn that you're sitting squarely in the lion's mouth until it snaps shut."

"Charming," she said. "I suppose I should have suspected something. The deal was much too generous for a singer who is still struggling on the bottom rungs of the ladder." She laughed mirthlessly. "I was very excited about it, you know. I thought I was getting somewhere at last."

"You'll get there. You're extraordinarily talented. After your stint here, I'll arrange for you to meet a few people who'll be glad to help." He smiled grimly. "I'll just call in a few debts."

"Bribery?" She felt the color rush to her cheeks. "Just close my eyes and be rewarded with a payoff? No, thank you, Mr. Donahue."

"I didn't mean it like that," he snapped. "I just wanted to help."

"Well, I don't want to help you," she said hotly. "And I'm not about to. Tomorrow I'll take the first flight back to Miami. This engagement is now officially at an end."

"That's your last word on it?" Clancy asked calmly.

She nodded. "I won't be used by you. I won't be used by anyone, dammit."

He stood up. "You will, you know. I'll just have to find another trap to bait." He turned and walked toward the door. "Good night, Miss Landon."

Her hands clenched at her sides. "He may not even come," she burst out in exasperation.

He opened the door. "You underestimate yourself. Baldwin will come." He paused, and for an instant something flickered in his eyes,that sent a tremor through her. "I would." He softly closed the door behind him.

When Clancy left the dressing room he proceeded directly to his villa. He dialed Alex's private number as soon as he reached the study. It was answered almost at once, as he'd thought it would be. Since the terrorist situation had taken on such dangerous proportions in Sedikhan, Alex often burned the midnight oil.

"Alex? I may need you to pull some diplomatic strings in the U.S. I'll try to cover myself as much as possible, but it may get a bit dicey."

"Baldwin?" Alex asked. "That shouldn't be too difficult. He has both drug smuggling and assault with intent to kill charges pending against him in Miami."

"Not Baldwin." Clancy hesitated. "His ex-wife. I m going to kidnap her."

There was a long silence on the other end of the line. "Kidnap an American cjtizen? I can see how that could get a little dicey. You're sure it's necessary?"

"It's necessary," Clancy said. "I just thought I'd warn you in case I have to send out a Mayday."

"Is she collaborating with Baldwin?"

"No, of course not. She wouldn't-" He broke off. He sounded as defensive as Galbraith had earlier, he realized with exasperation. He finished lamely, "She's not involved."

"Oh, you're going to kidnap an innocent American citizen." Suddenly Alex chuckled. "Why do I have the feeling that you've stumbled across something that you can't handle?"

"I can handle it."

"I sincerely hope so," Alex drawled. "You wouldn't consider giving up your little captive in the interest of diplomacy?"

"I would not."

"I didn't think so." Alex's tone was slightly whimsical. "All right, Clancy. Make off with your little houri. I'll take the flak if it comes down to it. Enjoy."

"Enjoy!" Clancy said. "Dammit, this is business

… your business."

"Is it?" Alex murmured softly. "Somehow I have my doubts about that. If I can help, let me know. If I'd found it necessary with Sabrina, I would probably have done the same thing. Keep in touch." The dial tone sounded as Alex hung up.

Clancy slowly replaced the receiver. Damn Alex, anyway. They were so close that it had always been impossible to deceive him even if he succeeded in deceiving himself.

Alex was right. His primary reason for keeping Lisa Landon on Paradise Cay had altered drastically in the brief time in her dressing room. Yethow could he explain to Alex what he didn't understand himself? His responses had always been firmly under his control until that spotlight had suddenly highlighted Lisa Landon's serene figure sitting on the tiny stage. Now he didn't know how to sort out what he was feeling. Admiration for her integrity mixed with sympathy, jealousy, posses-siveness, desire-and anger at her ability to arouse and confuse him to this extent.

He had never lied to himself, and he wasn't about to start now. Even if Lisa hadn't been the key to capturing Baldwin, he would still have found a way to see that she stayed here. What was he thinking? He'd been exposed to Alex's Eastern temperament too long. He wasn't an impulsive boy like Galbraith; he was a mature man. He couldn't just grab a woman and expect her not to cause an uproar. He would have to be gentle and patient and let her become accustomed to the idea that she belonged- He was doing it again, dammit. She didn't belong to him. She was an independent woman.

He strolled restlessly to the French doors and out into the courtyard. The night air was soft and fragrant with hibiscus and honeysuckle. Would she like it here? She was rather like a flower herself- soft and fragrant, yet with a quiet strength that revealed her sturdy roots. He would like to see her in this serene oasis with its mosaic fountain and flowering shrubs… or better still, in his garden at home in Marasef. He shook his head ruefully. Now he sounded like his old friend David Bradford, with his gardener's passion for flowers. This was evidently his night for behaving out of character.

He was a man of action, not a poet or a gardener. He straightened his shoulders and turned back to the house.

And now it was time for him to do what he did best. Lisa had said she was leaving in the morning, and that meant there wasn't much time to accomplish his purpose. He'd have to phone Galbraith and Berthold and give orders and instructions. There'd be no trouble with Galbraith, but Berthold might balk. He showed definite signs of becoming a problem. The easy life did that to some people. Clancy's pace quickened with brisk determination as he entered the library. His former weariness was forgotten as he headed for the phone on the desk. There wasn't time to indulge himself to that extent. He had a kidnapping to arrange.