Paladin's Woman

Prologue

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Hoisting the beer bottle toward the woman sitting on the edge of the bed, he saluted her, his mouth widening into a smirk. "Tonight's the night."

"Are you sure?" Leaning down, she picked up the black silk robe from the floor. "If everything doesn't work perfectly and your man botches things, her daddy will call in a bodyguard like that." She snapped her fingers, her sharp mauve nails clicking together.

Reaching out, he circled her neck, caressing her naked flesh. "Don't you have any confidence in me?"

"Of course." She glared at him, a mixture of desire and fear in her eyes. "I just don't want anything to go wrong. We've worked very hard and been planning for a long time. There's so much at stake."

Gliding his hand downward, he cupped her breast, flicking his nail across the tight nipple. "Millions and millions."

She sighed when his caress roughened. "If anything goes wrong—"

He laughed. "Nothing will."

"Kidnapping is a federal offense. We could both wind up in prison. I just wish there were some other way. I hate the thought of—"

"Don't think about anything except all that beautiful money Rusty McConnell's going to lose to keep his precious Addy safe." He shoved her down on the bed, straddling her hips.

"You won't hurt Addy. You promise?"

"She won't be hurt. My guy said he'd use chloroform, then keep her bound and blindfolded until Big Daddy gives us what we want." He touched his lips to hers, whispering into her mouth. "You know I wouldn't lie to you."

All the while he took his pleasure with one woman, he thought of another. Addy McConnell. Sweet, sweet Addy. He had no intention of harming her—not until he'd taken what he wanted from her—not until her father had followed instructions and the authorities were off on a wild-goose chase. He really didn't want to kill Addy, but he didn't have any choice. Once his plan went into action and he'd accomplished everything he set out to do, Addy would have to die.

Chapter 1

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Who was he? Addy McConnell wondered. He didn't belong here. She was certain of that. Despite the fact that he wore a black tuxedo similar to the ones worn by most of the men in the room, he didn't blend into the crowd. For one thing, he was taller than the average man, at least six foot three, and his big, muscular body appeared constrained by the confines of his well-fitting clothes. His black hair, though cut conservatively short, was slicked back away from his dark face, and a band of thick waves curled about his neck. His cheekbones were broad and high, his chin square with a slight cleft. A pair of deep-set brown eyes surveyed the gathering of Huntsville's social elite.

And a small diamond stud glittered in his left ear.

No, Addy thought, whoever he is, neither she nor her father had invited him to the party. That meant he was either a friend of Dina's, or he had crashed the engagement celebration of the year.

She'd been watching him for at least ten minutes, but the man hadn't glanced her way. He appeared to be either distracted or bored. Perhaps both.

Addy hadn't missed the way most of the women in the room kept looking at him. Several had made advances. When he'd smiled and spoken to those women, they'd practically melted at his feet. A charmer. A Latin lover. A very dangerous man. All those expressions flashed through Andy's mind.

When a waiter offered him a drink, he declined. Using the black cane he held in his right hand, he limped away from the young brunette who'd been trying, in vain, to attract his attention.

Addy wondered what had caused his limp. He leaned heavily on the gold-tipped cane. Bracing himself against the wall near the French doors, he closed his eyes. She noticed a sudden tremor in his hand that clutched the walking stick, and knew he was in pain. Some irrational emotion stirred within her. She wanted to ease his pain.

With a disgusted grunt, Addy looked away, scanning the room for sight of a familiar face, anyone who would take her mind off the mysterious dark stranger. She really didn't know what was wrong with her. Men, as a general rule, didn't interest her much. Her ex-husband had cured her of any desire she'd ever had to experience the joys of a sexual relationship. So, why did this man, this dangerous-looking interloper, fascinate her so much?

"He's gorgeous, isn't he?" Janice Dixon said. "Can you imagine what he looks like without his clothes?"

Addy tried not to laugh at her cousin's comment. Petite and bosomy, Janice Ann Dixon issued an invitation to the make sex without even trying. But being a highly sensual creature, Janice took every advantage of what Mother Nature had given her.

"I'm sure he'd be willing to oblige, if you asked him," Addy said.

"You think he's easy, huh?"

"No." Addy suspected that despite the fact the handsome stranger emitted an easy charm, a dark and perhaps even troubled soul existed beneath his captivatingly smooth exterior. "But he most definitely is a man, and I've yet to see a man you couldn't seduce."

Janice snorted, the sound mingled with laughter. "I don't know if I should be flattered or offended."

"Be flattered."

"You seem unduly interested in our mysterious señor." Janice glanced across the room, then nudged Addy in the side. "He's going out onto the patio. Why don't we follow him?"

"Go right ahead." Addy had never chased a man, never followed one, never pursued one in any way, shape, form or fashion, and she certainly had no intention of starting now. Thirty-five was definitely too old to change the habits of a lifetime.

Long-legged and elegant in her purple silk jumpsuit, Ginger Kimbrew slipped her arm around Addy's shoulder. "Every woman in the room is in heat, and I see that includes both of you."

"Go away, Ginger," Janice said. "If three women follow him outside, it'll be a bit obvious, don't you think?"

"I don't have to follow him. We've already been introduced." Smiling, Ginger eyed Addy. "You have no idea who he is, do you?"

"No," Addy said. "Should I?" She turned to face her father's private secretary.

"I take it that dear step-mommy-to-be hasn't introduced you."

Addy was well aware of the animosity between her father's fiancée Dina Lunden and his most valued employee of ten years. Dina resented any attractive woman in Rusty's life, and Ginger, who had hoped her position as mistress would one day he elevated to wife, hated the woman who'd finally trapped the man she wanted. "Dina invited him?" Addy asked.

"She most certainly did." Ginger's smile widened, her lavender-shadowed eyelids almost closing.

"How do you know?" Janice turned her head quickly, looking up at the taller woman.

"I asked him," Ginger said, grinning, her wide red mouth exposing a set of perfect white teeth. "I introduced myself and asked if he'd crashed the party or if he had an invitation."

"You did what?" Addy stared at Ginger, amazed anew at the woman's lack of manners. But then, Addy admitted that many of the new breed of Southern women didn't worry overly much about manners. Her grandmother, mother and aunt would have been appalled.

"He's Dina's brother-in-law." Ginger seemed delighted to be the one with so much information on the most interesting man at Dina Lunden and D.B. "Rusty" McConnell's engagement celebration. "Well, actually, ex-brother-in-law is more accurate. He's Dina's first husband's brother."

"Dina seems to stay on friendly terms with all her former husbands' relatives," Janice said. "Just look how close she and her stepson are."

"Brett Windsor is very attractive," Ginger said. "If you like the Ivy League type. He's Dina's third husband's son, right?"

"That's right." Addy glanced toward the French doors, wondering what Dina's former brother-in-law was doing out on the patio. Had one of the female guests propositioned him? Was he meeting her outside? A shiver of unexplainable excitement rippled through her. A vision of herself standing on the patio appeared in her mind. The dark stranger held her in his arms, his wide, full-lipped mouth moving downward.

"I knew he was a Latin lover boy," Janice said, again elbowing Addy in the side. "Hey, didn't you hear what Ginger said?"

"What?" Half dazed by the vividness of her daydream, Addy stared at her cousin in confusion.

"His name is Nick Romero. Oh, God, don't you just love the sound of it?" Janice was practically writhing.

"I think the proper term is Hispanic." Ginger looked at Addy, seeking her agreement. "Anyway, you're right about one thing, the term 'Latin lover' does come to mind the minute you see him."

Addy wondered how much of Ginger and Janice's conversation she'd missed while indulging in a fantasy about the man they were discussing. It was quite apparent that the man had a mesmerizing effect on women, and she absolutely refused to allow any man, not even this one, to arouse any long-dead dreams of passion. No, she'd happily settle for the nice, warm feelings she shared with her friend Jim Hester. Though neither wealthy nor sophisticated, Jim was a dear man, and he possessed something that Addy desperately wanted, had wanted for as long as she could remember, had mourned the fact, after two miscarriages, that she might never have one of her own. Jim Hester had a child.

Addy didn't want or expect passion. As a Plain Jane, she'd long ago learned that despite the fact she had no problem attracting men, it was always her father's millions that attracted them and not her beauty or charm. Dina's stepson, Brett Windsor, definitely saw dollar signs whenever he was around her, so she didn't encourage him.

"I think you and I should give Addy a shot at Nick Romero," Janice said, and laughed when she saw the stricken look on her cousin's face.

"You're right. After all, a man like that just might find Addy's sweetness and innocence a real turn-on." Ginger stopped a waiter, retrieved a canapé from a silver dish, then popped it into her mouth.

"I'm hardly innocent," Addy said. "I'm a thirty-five-year-old divorcée, not an eighteen-year-old virgin."

"Regardless of that fact, you could write everything you know about sex on the head of a straight pin." Janice stopped a waiter for a fresh glass of champagne.

"Would you look at that?" Ginger nodded toward the French doors where a stunningly beautiful Dina Lunden was slipping outside.

Addy watched. Dina's black satin gown shimmered, every inch adhering to her slender body in a way that accentuated her round hips, her small waist and her voluptuous bosom. Even at forty-six, the woman reeked of sex appeal and looked at least ten years younger. It didn't hurt that she was classically beautiful, with a kittenish type of sexuality. The kind that had made Marilyn Monroe a legend.

"Looks like step-mommy-to-be has beaten us all to the punch," Ginger said. "I wonder what she wants to talk to Nick about in private?"

"Are you implying that there's something going on between Dina and her former brother-in-law?" Addy asked.

"There's one way to find out," Ginger said.

"We could all three go outside for a breath of fresh air," Janice said.

"No." Addy held up a restraining hand. "You two stay here and enjoy the party … and make sure Daddy doesn't come outside."

Nick Romero leaned his hip against the brick patio wall. Damn, his leg ached. He'd been standing too long. Ever since an Uzi had ripped his leg open nearly seven months ago, he'd had to learn to live with pain. Indeed, the pain had been his friend. As long as he could feel the pain, he was alive. While he'd passed in and out of consciousness, he'd kept reminding himself that as long as he could feel, he wasn't dead. And so he had embraced the agony, he'd clung to it. He'd been damned and determined that no maniac's sneak attack was going to kill him. After all, he'd lived through Vietnam, through almost ten years as a Navy SEAL and nearly a dozen years as one of the DEA's top agents. He hadn't overcome poverty and prejudice and the constant threat of death to let some psycho from his best friend's past destroy him. No, Nick Romero was made of stronger stuff.

He smelled her perfume before he saw her. Heavy, spicy, erotic. Even when Dina Lunden had been Dina Romero, his brother Miguel's wife, she'd bathed herself in cologne. Back then, it had been the cheap stuff, the kind you bought in dime stores for a dollar, the kind that Dina could afford on her waitress's salary and her husband's meager wages from farming. But once Miguel had gone to work in the oil fields, Dina started buying her perfume at the drugstore.

Funny, what a guy thought about when he smelled a woman's perfume. Of course, Dina wasn't just any woman. She was special. Despite the fact that what he'd once felt for her was long dead, she would always be special. A man never forgets his first love, especially if she was his brother's widow.

"Nicky." Her voice had that same soft, little-girl coo it had so many years ago. "I saw you come outside and thought now might be a good time for us to talk. Privately."

She was still a damned good-looking woman. Still sexy as hell. The one blonde he'd never been able to forget. "Talk away. I'm listening."

She moved forward, stopping hesitantly. She reached out, her long, slender fingers draping themselves around his forearm. "I've missed you, Nicky. It's been a long time."

"Not so long, Dina." She had such a hypnotic smile. A smile that promised so much and gave so little. Nick knew how deceptive everything about this woman could be. "I came to your last engagement party and your last wedding." He noticed that her smile scarcely altered, but the light in her eyes dimmed ever so slightly. "It couldn't have been more than three years ago."

"Almost five." She squeezed Nick's arm, her sculptured pink nails biting into the fabric of his tuxedo. "You haven't missed one of my weddings, have you, Nicky? Except…"

"Except the one that you didn't invite me to."

"I thought you'd forgiven me for marrying Briley Fuller so soon after Miguel died."

Nick tilted her chin with his index finger, looking directly into her big blue eyes. Like her lips, those eyes promised so much. False promises. "I've forgiven you for everything. It's myself that I've never been able to forgive."

"Silly boy, you didn't do anything wrong." She nudged her body closer, pressing her full breasts against his chest.

"I lusted after my brother's wife, and when he wasn't three months cold in the ground, I screwed her." Even, now, after all these years, he could still taste the bile as it rose to his throat, still hear the condemnation on his grandmother's tongue when she found Dina in Nick's bed. He'd thought he was in love. He'd been seventeen. And he'd been a fool.

"Miguel was dead. I was lonely." She ran the tips of her long nails across his jaw. "And we wanted each other."

Taking her by the shoulder, Nick pushed her away from him. "I was seventeen. I wanted a woman, and at that time you were my ideal. Blond, big-boobed and knowledgeable."

She laughed, the sound like a high-pitched bell. Clear and sharp and feminine. "I'm so glad we've stayed friends, despite the fact you wouldn't even speak to me after I married Briley. He was a mistake, but … he was so rich."

"You seem to like your men that way," Nick said, glancing over Dina's shoulder toward the French doors. They had just opened, and a tall, slender redhead was looking straight at him.

Nick's gut tightened. There was something familiar about the woman, her titian hair, her towering height, her strong features. She certainly wasn't classically beautiful, but she possessed an earthy appeal that not even her plain dress and subdued hairstyle disguised.

"You mean that I like rich men?" Dina asked.

"Yeah, rich mistakes. How many will this make? Five?"

The redhead walked out onto the patio, closing the doors behind her. She stood less than twenty feet away. And she was still staring at him. He felt an odd sensation in the pit of his stomach. Amazed at his reaction, Nick admitted to himself that the tall, skinny redhead turned him on. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so fascinated by a woman.

He shook his head. Damn, who would have believed it? She certainly wasn't his type.

"Rusty will be my sixth husband. You never count Miguel."

"Do you know a tall, slim redheaded woman wearing a gray silk dress?" Nick asked.

"Why?" Dina's voice trembled slightly.

"She's standing just a few feet away watching us."

Dina swirled around, her most dazzling smile in place. "Addy, darling, do come over and meet my Nicky."

He surveyed darling Addy from the top of her curly red hair to the tips of her gray leather heels. Thick, unruly flame-red hair. Plain but expensive two-inch heels. A neat little gray silk dress covered her model-thin body. It didn't cling or drape; it simply covered. Despite the fact that this woman obviously didn't dress to attract men, Nick found her very attractive. Even though he truly liked women, all women, he usually preferred sexy blondes with round curves.

Darling Addy stared at him intently, as if she were trying to gauge the extent of his personal relationship with Dina. She seemed interested in him, but not enthralled the way so many women usually were. He didn't know exactly what it was about him that piqued female interest, but he wasn't about to deny himself the pleasures of being considered a Romeo.

"Oh, Nicky, do say hello to Addy McConnell, Rusty's daughter." Dina glanced nervously back and forth from Addy to Nick. "Addy, this is my brother-in-law, Nick Romero. He's flown in from Florida just for my engagement party."

Smiling, Nick held out his hand. "Ms. McConnell."

She stared at his hand for several minutes, then offered hers. "Mr. Romero."

When he didn't immediately release her hand, she tugged gently. He held fast, pulling her closer. When she was only inches away, he gazed into her eyes, almond-shaped green eyes—cat eyes—framed by thick reddish-brown lashes. "On closer inspection, I see a definite resemblance to your father. Same hair, without the gray. Same eyes, only brighter. And you're much prettier than Rusty. Your mother must have been quite a beautiful woman."

"She was, but I don't look anything like her. I'm pure McConnell. Through and through. Just ask Daddy." Addy jerked her hand out of Nick's. "We're pleased that you could fly in and share this special night with Dina. Will you be staying here at the house?"

"No," Dina said, her lips puckered in a seductive pout. "I told him there was more than enough room, but he booked into a hotel. Wasn't that naughty of him?"

"You should have stayed here." Addy nodded toward the house. "This place is almost as big as a hotel and there's no one living here right now except Daddy, Dina and Brett."

"Brett Windsor's living here?" Nick asked.

"Brett's considering some local investments. He'll be getting his own place soon." Dina patted Addy on the arm affectionately. "Brett thinks the world of Addy, but she won't give him the least little bit of encouragement."

"Is that right?" Nick tried to keep the sarcastic tone out of his voice. He'd just bet that Brett thought the world of Addy. He thought the world of Rusty McConnell's millions was more like it. Brett Windsor had inherited half of his father's estate and Dina had inherited the other half. That had been fourteen years and two husbands ago. Nick doubted if either one of them had a dime of Ashley Windsor's six-million-dollar legacy.

Dina glanced toward the French doors where the man in question stood. "There's Brett now. I should go and assure him that Nicky isn't a rival, shouldn't I, Addy?"

"By all means." Addy waved at Brett, who flashed her a brilliant smile and waved back at her. "I'll entertain Mr. Romero."

"What?" Dina laughed, fluttering her eyelashes. "Nicky, you behave yourself with Addy. After all, she's my Rusty's only child and he adores her."

"I promise to be on my best behavior." Nick glanced at Addy, wondering what she thought of her father's fiancée.

"I'll hold you to that." Giving Nick a flirtatious smile and Addy an affectionate pat on the arm, Dina sauntered toward her third husband's son.

"Your brother was one of Dina's husbands?" Addy asked.

"Her first husband." Nick realized that this woman didn't like Dina, and her curious green eyes said that she wasn't sure she liked him either.

"Then you've known her for a long time?"

"Since I was fifteen, and I'll be forty-four soon."

"She seems very fond of you."

"She is." Nick noticed the surprised expression on Addy's face. Had she been expecting a denial? "But then, Dina is very fond of a lot of men."

"And, if my father is any indication, a lot of men are fond of Dina."

Nick reached out and took Addy's hand, slipping her arm through his. She didn't resist. Grasping his cane in his other hand, he walked them toward the French doors. "Will Dina be your first stepmother?"

"If Daddy marries her, she will be."

"You don't like Dina?"

"Dina and I have an understanding," Addy said, hesitating before entering the house again. "We tolerate each other. In front of Daddy, we're always cordial."

"If it's any comfort to you, Ms. McConnell, Dina probably won't be a part of your life for more than a few years. As you already know, her track record in the marriage department isn't very good."

"Daddy's crazy in love with Dina, despite her—er—track record."

They stepped inside the house, into the throng of celebrants, into the midst of bright lights and loud music and the hum of hundreds of voices. People filled the downstairs of Rusty McConnell's three-story mansion.

When Addy took several steps away from him, Nick reached out, detaining her by grasping her slender wrist. "If I could dance, I'd ask you for the next one." He almost laughed when he saw the look of surprise on her face.

"Why would you do that?" she asked, a genuinely puzzled look in her eyes.

"Because I'd like to hold you in my arms." Nick knew what women liked to hear, and he'd always had a knack for saying the right thing, for pushing the right buttons. He was adept at using words to achieve his goal, and he usually meant most of what he said. He never blatantly lied to a woman or made promises he didn't keep.

"You're wasting your time flirting with me, Mr. Romero. I'm immune to charming men."

The moment she spoke, he realized that he had indeed meant what he'd said to her. He did want to hold her in his arms. For some odd reason he felt that Addy McConnell needed someone to hold her, to care about her, to protect her. Stupid notion. Why would the heir to a multi-million-dollar aerospace firm need a crippled ex-DEA agent to take care of her? "Some charming man broke your heart?"

"Some charming bastard married me for my daddy's money."

Her smile was as deadly cold as any Nick had ever seen. This woman truly was immune to charm. Did she hate men? he wondered. All men? Or just the charming ones?

"His loss, I'd say."

"Yes, it was," Addy agreed, then walked away from Nick.

He didn't follow, but he watched her. She was tall. At least five ten or eleven in her two-inch heels. Rusty McConnell was Nick's height. Six three.

Addy was slender, but not too skinny. Her shoulders were broad, her waist tiny and her hips well-rounded. She paused by the side of a voluptuous creature in a red sequined dress, whose frosted blond head barely reached Addy's shoulder. Apparently the woman was a close friend. She and Addy were laughing.

Nick noticed how very different the two women were. The blonde was his type—bold and sexy and bosomy. So why did she pale beside Addy? Nick couldn't understand what it was about this redhead that made the blood run hot in his veins. The blood in her veins was probably mixed with ice water. And she didn't have any breasts, at least not enough to fill out the front of her plain little silk dress. She was small but no doubt firm. He guessed that her nipples were a pale coral to match the peachy tint of her creamy gold complexion. He wanted to see those small breasts, those tight little nipples.

Her hair intrigued him, that thick mass of fiery red curls. Nick felt certain that beneath the rather drab exterior a colorful woman existed. The very thought of discovering what treasures lay buried under that plain gray dress suddenly aroused him unbearably.

He noticed Addy turn abruptly toward the center of the room where Dina was tugging on the tail of Rusty McConnell's tuxedo jacket. When Addy took a step away from her friend, Nick moved forward, following her. Suddenly she broke into a run. Nick couldn't keep up, his gait hampered by his limp. People moved back, making room for Addy's mad dash through the crowd.

"Get out of here, Carlton, or I'll throw you out myself!" Rusty bellowed, his deep voice loud over the band music that continued playing.

With Addy on one side and Dina on the other, the two women tried to hold Rusty away from a younger man who had stopped on the dance floor and still held his partner in his arms. The woman was quite young. No more than twenty-five. And very, very pregnant.

Nick moved closer, stepping up beside Brett Windsor who stood directly behind Addy. Windsor was a pretty boy. Tall blond and muscular.

"Daddy, don't do this. Remember your blood pressure." Addy clung to her father's huge arm.

"Listen to her, Rusty darling." Dina clung just as tenaciously to his other arm.

"He wasn't invited," Rusty said. "How the hell did you get in here, Carlton?"

The other man, a good-looking guy in his mid-thirties smiled at Rusty. Nick thought the smile said a lot. It was actually a smirk.

"Lori and I received an invitation. I presented it at the door." The dark-haired young man gave his companion a gentle hug. "I thought perhaps you'd finally decided to let bygones be bygones."

"I didn't issue that invitation and neither did Addy. Do you honestly think that after what you put her through she'd want to see you and … and your pregnant wife?" Rusty yanked free of his women, came up to the other man, towering over him by a good four inches, and punched Mr. Carlton in the chest with the tip of his meaty index finger.

Addy stepped forward, slipping her arm through her father's. "Daddy, don't do this." She turned to the couple. "Gerald, you and Lori shouldn't have come here. You're not welcome, and whether or not you received an invitation, you weren't invited. Please go."

"I told you we shouldn't have come," Mrs. Carlton said, turning her brown, puppy-dog eyes to her husband beseechingly.

"I guess the McConnells hold a grudge for life," Gerald Carlton said, looking directly at Addy. "You certainly haven't changed, Adeline. Still as plain and understated as ever, and still letting Daddy fight all your battles. Too bad you didn't inherit his strength—and his sexual appetite."

Nick knew Rusty McConnell was going to deck the younger man. Hell, he wanted to hit the sonofabitch and he didn't even know him.

Addy gasped, then grabbed her father. "No, don't. It's what he wants."

Nick stepped forward. He slipped his cane between Gerald Carlton and Rusty McConnell. Both men stared down at the black cane, then up at the man who had dared to interfere.

"Rusty, despite the fact that you're Addy's father and would love to take care of this matter, don't you think it's my place?" Nick turned his cane, positioning the tip in the center of Gerald's chest.

Rusty glared at Nick, obviously dumbfounded by his action. "Why … what—?"

"What do you think you're doing?" Addy whispered, her voice a hiss.

"I'm doing what you've been trying to do," Nick said, low and soft, for her ears only. "I'm trying to stop your father from killing this man."

"Who are you?" Gerald Carlton asked.

"I'm the man who's asking you to step outside," Nick said.

Gerald Carlton studied Nick, taking in every aspect of his appearance. His gaze stopped on Nick's cane, the tip lying against his own chest. "You're not some sort of bodyguard for Rusty. He'd never hire a cripple to protect him, so just who are you?"

"Now see here, Romero—" Rusty said, his voice a snarling growl.

"You're right. I don't work for Rusty." Nick slipped his arm around Addy's waist, pulling her close to him. "This is personal."

Addy's mouth opened in a silent gasp, but Nick had to give her credit. She didn't say a word. She didn't panic. Instead, to his delight, she swayed slightly toward him, resting her body against his.

Gerald laughed, a rather boyish, unmanly laugh. "You can't mean to imply that you and Addy … that—"

"Let's just say that I'm a man who appreciates all the special qualities in Addy that you were apparently too blind to see, let alone appreciate." Nick removed his cane from Gerald's chest, then used it to indicate the foyer. "You have two choices. You and your wife can leave now, or … your wife can take you home after you and I have a little discussion outside."

Gerald laughed again, but the laughter did not reach his eyes. He glanced around the room. Except for the band playing on, the room was deadly quiet. People were gaping, mouths open, eyes wide, waiting. Gerald looked at Nick. Nick smiled. A part of him hoped this clean-cut, sissified Anglo would step outside with him. Nothing would please him more than to show Mr. Carlton that he was one cripple who could easily beat the hell out of him.

"Gerald, let's leave now," his wife pleaded.

"If you're really bedding her," Gerald said, a self-satisfied grin on his face, "then I hope Rusty is paying you enough to make it worth your while."

Rusty lunged for Gerald, but Nick stood firmly in the way. He loosened his hold on Addy, shoving her gently away. Only two people heard the deadly warning Nick uttered, the words vulgar and succinct. Rusty and Gerald stood dead still. Gerald's face turned ashen. He grabbed his wife by the arm and made a hasty exit. Stopping at the double doors leading into the foyer, he gave Nick a nasty look, fear and hatred in his hazel eyes.

Rusty McConnell, big and broad and in superb physical condition for a man well past his prime, slapped Nick on the back, then placed his arm around his shoulder. "Did you mean what you said to him? Would you do it?"

"In a hot minute," Nick said, then glanced over at Addy, who looked rather lost, her face pale, her eyes overly bright as if she might burst into tears at any moment. "I take it that Gerald Carlton is the bastard who married you for your daddy's money?"

"How very astute of you, Mr. Romero." Addy stepped away from the woman in the red sequined dress who appeared to be trying to comfort her.

"Call me Nick." He smiled. She didn't. "After what just happened, everyone is going to assume that we're already on a first-name basis."

"So you should be," Rusty said, giving Nick another strong pat on the back. "I could have handled that pip-squeak Carlton without any help, but I have to admit I like the way you stood up for Addy. You're the kind of man she needs."

"Daddy!"

"Rusty, what a thing to say." Dina reached for Rusty's big hand, squeezing it tightly. "Nick and Addy just met, and I hardly think they're a suitable match."

The crowd began moving about and talking again, several people taking advantage of the dance music, others seeking hors d'oeuvres and champagne. Brett Windsor stepped forward, placing a comforting arm around Addy's waist. Nick had the irrational urge to coldcock Mr. Ivy League. Windsor hadn't kept Addy's father from killing her ex-husband. Windsor hadn't defended Addy when Carlton bad-mouthed her in front of everyone. Windsor hadn't been willing to take the other man outside and teach him some manners.

If anyone should be taking Addy McConnell in his arms, it shouldn't be Brett Windsor. He, Nick Romero, should be the man. But before he could make his way to Addy, to claim her attention, she walked away with Windsor. Rusty still had his big arm draped around Nick's shoulder and Dina had slipped between the two of them, taking each by the arm.

Nick watched while Windsor led Addy out onto the dance floor, took her in his arms and waltzed away with her.

Addy accepted her wrap and purse from the maid, whom she didn't know. Someone new Dina had hired, no doubt. Since becoming engaged to Rusty, Dina had moved into the mansion and hired several new servants, claiming there wasn't enough staff to adequately care for such a large estate. Of course, Rusty was agreeing to anything Dina wanted these days. No fool like an old fool in love, Addy thought, hating herself for considering her father foolish. But he was. He didn't seem to care about Dina's past, about all her former wealthy husbands.

Stepping outside onto the large veranda, Addy decided the night was too warm to warrant her shawl. She looked around for Alton, her father's chauffeur. She didn't see anyone, not even one of the parking attendants. Maybe they were taking a break. After all, it was barely eleven and most people wouldn't even begin leaving until after midnight. But she'd had just about all of Rusty and Dina's engagement party she could take. The thought of celebrating her father's upcoming nuptials to a woman who'd been married five times and unashamedly used sex to get what she wanted from men didn't sit well with Addy.

What was it with men and sex? she wondered. No matter what their age, they all seemed to have their brains in their pants. Even her father. It really hadn't bothered her so much when she found out that he'd been having an affair with his secretary, Ginger, for nearly eight years or that there had obviously been numerous women during the years since her mother's death. Maybe even before … after Madeline Delacourt McConnell had shut herself in her room … after the delicately beautiful Mrs. McConnell had lost all sense of reality and retreated into a fantasy world of her own. A world that didn't include kidnappers who had murdered her nine-year-old son.

Shaking her head, Addy walked down the steps leading to the circular drive. She wished she had driven her own car here tonight, but her father had insisted on sending Alton. Her father was overprotective where his only child was concerned. He had been ever since Donnie's kidnapping and death when she was six. He didn't like her driving from downtown Huntsville at night alone, even though the trip took less than twenty minutes.

Alton and the others were probably in the kitchen drinking coffee. Or they could be in the garage, where Alton would be showing them Rusty's antique car collection. She decided to wait a few minutes. After all, she wasn't in any hurry to go home, just in a rush to escape the party.

The party alone would have been bad enough, but three unexpected guests had turned the evening into a real nightmare. Addy suspected that Ginger had mailed Mr. and Mrs. Gerald Carlton an invitation to tonight's shindig. The woman would have done anything to ruin Dina's big night. Ginger probably hadn't even thought of how Gerald's presence would affect other people—namely Addy McConnell. And she hadn't cared how Addy would feel seeing Lori, carrying Gerald's third child. She had tried twice to give Gerald a child. She'd failed miserably both times.

Addy gazed up at the dark sky, at the softly glowing June moon and questioned the powers-that-be as she'd done so many times in the past. Perhaps she'd wanted too much, had dared to ask for more than was her due. After all, she'd been born with a silver spoon in her mouth. Her father was a multimillionaire by the time he was thirty-five. Her mother had been one of the loveliest and wealthiest young debutantes in the state of Alabama. Never once had she wanted for anything money could buy. But, oh, how she had longed for the things in life that were beyond price.

She had longed for a normal mother, one who wasn't under a nurse's care. She had longed to be just one of the kids, not "that rich girl," not Rusty McConnell's only child. She had longed for love and passion. She'd gotten an unfaithful husband who'd married her for her father's money. And she'd longed for a child. She'd lost two babies before her fifth month of pregnancy.

Engrossed in thought, Addy strolled farther and farther down the circular drive, past limo after limo, past several Mercedes, BMWs, Jaguars and Porsches.

Nick Romero had been the other unexpected guest, a man she couldn't even begin to understand. There was something about him that intrigued Addy, and something that frightened her. Suddenly she realized that the very thing that intrigued her was the same thing that frightened her: Nick's sensuality. When he looked at her, it was as if … as if he wanted her. She knew that couldn't be right. Tall, flat-chested, redheaded Addy McConnell wasn't the type of woman who evoked passion in men, and most certainly not a man like Nick Romero—big and dark and devastatingly attractive, a man who made women swoon.

Addy felt a steely arm slip around her waist, then saw the rag in the man's hand as it came toward her face. Dear God, someone had grabbed her from behind … someone was going to hurt her. When she opened her mouth to scream, the hand came down over her face, covering her mouth and nose with the rag, the smelly rag. Acting purely on instinct, Addy struggled, trying to free herself. She kicked backward with her heels, hoping to make contact with the man's legs. He held her tighter. She rammed her foot into his ankle and struck him in the stomach with her elbow. Groaning, he loosened his hold on her.

"Be still, bitch," he said, his voice sharp.

When he tried to cover her face with the rag again, she bit down on his hand. He snatched his hand away, cursing loudly. Addy took her chance, whirling around. For a split second, she saw his face in the moonlight. He was a stranger. He grabbed for her. She turned and ran. He ran after her.

He reached out, knocking her down on the pavement, then falling to his knees to straddle her hips. The force of his attack knocked the breath from her lungs. He jerked her up off the driveway.

"They wanted things done up all nice and neat. Said to use the chloroform. Said not to hurt you." He jammed a gun in her ribs. "But they didn't bother telling me that you were such a feisty bitch! So no more Mr. Nice Guy. Understand?"

Addy nodded. What was she going to do? She had to get away. This man could rape her, torture her, kill her. But who was he? Someone had sent this maniac after her. But who and why? Dear God, was this an attempted kidnapping? If Rusty McConnell lost his one remaining child to a kidnapper, he wouldn't be able to live through the tragedy a second time. All Addy could think about was her father.

Her high-pitched, ear-splitting scream shattered the nocturnal solitude.

Chapter 2

« ^ »

Nick didn't know why he'd followed Addy McConnell outside. He wanted to see her again? Yeah. He wanted to talk with her? Yeah. He wanted to get to know her better? Yeah. He wanted to drag her into the back seat of one of those big, shiny limos parked in the driveway and find out if she was as frigid as her ex-husband had implied? Damn, yes. Some gut-level instinct told him that Addy was as fiery as her hair, as hot and wild as the look he'd seen in her bright green eyes. But she would be that way only with him … only for him.

He heard the scream. A bloodcurdling scream of pure fear. And then he saw them. The tall redheaded woman and the muscular youth who held her. She wasn't struggling, she was just standing there in his arms, screaming. Nick moved forward cautiously, knowing he mustn't surprise Addy's attacker. He cursed his bad leg for slowing him down. Time was of the essence. He wouldn't have been the only one who'd heard her screams. Soon the lawn would be swarming with curious guests. No telling what the assailant would do if confronted by a mob of onlookers. He could panic and kill Addy.

Nick saw the gun held to Addy's ribs. The metal housing sparkled like shiny glass when the moonlight struck it from the right angle.

Nick eased off the veranda and out onto the drive, his steps faltering slightly as he leaned heavily on his cane. He could make out only the shadows of Addy and the man holding her captive. He crept along behind the parked cars, edging his way closer and closer to the woman he desperately wanted to save.

Nick saw several uniformed chauffeurs coming around the house, followed by five parking attendants in white coats. Damn! He hastened his lame gait, cursing the pain in his calf. He had to get to Addy.

The mansion's double front doors swung open. At least two dozen people ran outside, Rusty McConnell leading the back. Double damn!

Nick crouched down behind the driver's side of a white Rolls, peering over the hood. If he reached out he could touch the hem of Addy's dress.

"Damn you, bitch," the man with the gun shouted. "See what you've done. See what you've done!"

He jerked Addy away from the passenger side of the Rolls, twisting her arm behind her back and pointing the revolver directly at her head. Addy had stopped screaming. Her face, only lightly covered with translucent makeup, was almost as gray as her dress. The fear reflected on her peachy flesh made the smattering of tiny freckles across her nose visible even in the moonlight.

Nick knew he had few options. Capturing the assailant wasn't his top priority. Saving Addy was. That meant disarming her attacker before he had the chance to use his gun.

"Good God, it's Addy!" Rusty McConnell bellowed like a wounded bull, his voice carrying loudly in the stillness.

Nick could hear the rumble of voices, the tantalizing moan of a saxophone from inside the house, the labored breathing of the sweating man who began walking backward, practically dragging Addy with him. Nick slipped around the side of the Rolls, keeping his head low, groaning silently as excruciating pain radiated from his calf up into his bent knee. Coordinating his movements perfectly to keep pace with Addy and her kidnapper, Nick reached the rear of the car the moment they did.

He had one chance and one chance only. If he failed… If the man panicked…

Nick made his move. The man, young and scared, his dark eyes riveted to Nick, swung Addy around hard, using her as a shield. His long, sandy ponytail flipped over his shoulder. He tightened his hold on Addy. For one split second, he raised the gun a fraction of an inch, the barrel shining brightly just above Addy's head, the man's white hand clearly visible against Addy's flame red hair.

Using his trained warrior instincts, Nick raised his black walking stick with split-second precision. The gold tip touched the assailant's hand. He reacted quickly, shoving the gun against Nick's cane. Nick pressed the concealed lever. A sharp stiletto sprang from the tip of the cane and pierced the attacker's hand, slicing through flesh and muscle. Blood gushed from the wound. The man yowled in pain, dropping the gun. The metal rattled as it hit the driveway. Using his good leg, Nick extended his foot and kicked the revolver under the Rolls. The young would-be kidnapper, having lost his gun and inadvertently released Addy, glared at Nick, who swiftly and adeptly pulled the knife out of the man's hand and, with a quick press of a lever, returned the knife to its secret bed within his black lacquer stick.

When the young man made a move toward Addy, Nick used the gold-tipped staff to ward him off. Twirling the cane around, Nick slapped him across the face, bloodying his nose.

Nick heard the sound of voices coming closer, the loud pounding of running feet. Panting, the assailant glared over Nick's shoulder, then back at Nick. Easing away slowly, the man turned and broke into a full run. Nick made no attempt to follow. He leaned over to help a badly shaken Addy McConnell to her feet. Her tightly coiled topknot had come loose. Thick, heavy tendrils of bright red hair fell down her back, over her ears, and wispy curls framed her face. The sleeve of her unflattering gray dress was ripped, one of her two-inch heels was missing and there was a run in her panty hose that stretched from her ankle all the way up and beyond the hem of her dress. Her silver and black beaded purse rested at her feet where it had fallen from her shoulder.

The delicate fragrance of her expensive perfume mingled with the heady odor of her female perspiration. Nick could smell her heat … and he liked her uniquely sweet scent.

Leaning on his cane, Nick pulled Addy up against his body, hugging her close. Her breathing was labored, her eyes wild with fear, her full lips parted in the prelude to a sigh or a moan or a cry. Nick wasn't sure which. God, he wanted to kiss her. He wanted to hold her so close, so tight, that she would become a part of him. He wanted to run his hands all over her, from neck to knees, to make sure she was unharmed, to reassure her by his touch that she was alive.

The voices and running feet came closer. Within seconds a crowd would surround them. He looked at Addy. She looked at him.

"Oh, Nick…" Her voice was pleadingly soft, issuing both thanks and invitation in the way she uttered his name.

She leaned into him, resting against him. She put both of her arms around his waist, clinging to him. He'd never felt so much a man. Not in all his life. Was this what it felt like, he wondered, to protect your woman?

"You're all right, Addy." Nick lowered his head, his breath mingling with hers. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"No—not really—just … just scared me." She raised her lips to his.

Just as Nick's mouth covered hers, he felt the hardy slap of Rusty McConnell's big hand on his back. "What the hell was going on? Who was that man?"

Addy turned her face toward her father, but she remained in Nick's arms, her hands clutching at his back. "He … he was trying to rob me," she lied. "Nick showed up just in time. I … don't know what I would have done."

"The police have been called." Rusty stared at his daughter, doubt and fear raging in his dark green eyes. "Some of the men are trying to catch your attacker. I'd let the dogs loose if we didn't have guests wandering around out here."

Nick could feel the quick, hard beat of Addy's heart where her chest rested against his side. Her breasts were crushed into him. They weren't as small as he'd thought, but they were just as firm.

There was more to this attack than a man trying to steal a woman's purse. If that was all the man had been after, he'd have taken it and run. No, the man, whoever he was, had wanted Addy, had been trying to take her with him. That meant he was either a rapist or a kidnapper. If he'd been a murderer, he could have shot her before Nick saw them. Addy was lying to her father, and Nick didn't understand why. Who was she trying to protect? Surely not her attacker.

"Did you get a good look at his face?" Rusty asked. "Could you identify him?"

Addy nodded. Trembling, she clung to Nick.

"I'll get rid of everybody as quickly as I can," Rusty said. "You aren't going back to your house tonight. You can stay in your old room. I'll have Mrs. Hargett get it ready for you."

"The police will probably want to question everyone," Nick said. "Just in case anybody saw something. But I think Addy and I are the only ones who can identify her attacker. There's no need for them to grill her. I got as good a look at him as she did."

"I'll get Dina," Rusty suggested. "She can stay with you, Addy. A girl needs another woman at a time like this."

"No, Daddy. Really. I'll—I'll be all right." Addy twisted the back of Nick's tuxedo jacket in her hand, wadding it into a wrinkled knot. "If I can just go inside … get away from all these people staring at me. Something to drink. Brandy, maybe. Or a shot of whiskey. And—and—" she looked at Nick. "And Nick—Mr. Romero could go with me."

"Huh?" Rusty's gaze moved from his daughter's face to her arms that were clinging to Nick. "Take her inside, Romero. And stay with her. I'll take care of everything else. You take care of my daughter."

Nick heard both the entreaty and the warning in big Rusty McConnell's voice. The man knew he would protect Addy with his life. He also knew that Nick wanted her, and wanted her badly. A man could always tell when another man was proprietary about a woman. Nick had seen that look in many a man's eye. He'd never thought another man would ever see it in his. He hadn't felt possessive about a woman in twenty-five years. Not since he'd been seventeen and in love with his brother's wife.

"Well, they weren't a whole hell of a lot of help, were they?" Rusty McConnell stomped across the cream and gold Persian rug in his living room. Running a big hand through his thick, cinnamon-streaked white hair, he chomped down on his half-smoked Havana cigar.

"Now, darling." Dina draped her small, delicate arm around her fiancé's thick waist. "I think the officers did a thorough job. My goodness, they questioned every guest and gave all of us the third degree. It's two-thirty, and we're exhausted. Why don't we go to bed and—"

Unconsciously, Rusty jerked away from Dina's possessive hold, turning to Addy. "You're not going home. Do you understand? Mrs. Hargett's already got your room ready."

"I'll stay here tonight, Daddy, but in the morning, I'm going home." Addy refused to allow some maniac's attack to turn her father into the fanatically overprotective parent he'd been years ago. From the time she was six and her older brother had been killed by his kidnappers, Addy had lived in a gilded cage, a poor little rich girl unable to flee the golden chains that kept her safe. Not until her marriage to Gerald had ended had she found the strength and courage to escape Rusty's loving captivity.

Rusty's gaze swung around, focusing on his niece. "That boyfriend of yours is outside waiting. Why don't you go on home, Janice. And, if Addy isn't up to coming in to work Monday, you handle things."

"Now, Daddy, don't go making any decisions for me." Addy gave Janice a knowing nod and tried to smile. "Go on home with Ron. I'm fine."

"I'll see you Monday," Janice said, giving Addy a quick hug. Walking out, she paused. "Uncle Rusty, you know that M.A.C.'s day-care center can't function without Addy."

Rusty didn't acknowledge his niece's parting comment. Turning all his attention on Brett Windsor, he resisted Dina's attempts to put her arm around him. "What the hell are you still doing here? Go on up to your room, Windsor. I need to talk to Addy and Nick. Alone."

Addy bit her tongue to keep from chastising her father for his rudeness. A worldly wise man, a self-made millionaire, D.B. McConnell could be charming if the occasion called for it, but otherwise he didn't bother with the formalities of courtesy. Good manners were something that, even in her declining years of mental illness, Madeline Delacourt McConnell had instilled in her daughter, and Addy abhorred the lack of them in anyone, even in her own dearly loved father.

She reached out, placing her hand on Brett's arm. "I'll see you in the morning at breakfast."

His smile only enhanced his already handsome face. His dark blue eyes changed from brooding to pleasant. Addy returned his smile, thinking how attractive Brett Windsor was, with his sandy blond hair, his tall, muscular body, his quick wit and attentive manner. Too bad his interest in her was only monetary. As much as she liked Brett, there was no doubt in her mind that his sole interest in her was her daddy's money. Of course, he had no idea that she knew what was behind his phony smiles and attentive manner.

"Why don't you escort your stepmother upstairs?" Rusty said. "This hasn't been the best of nights for her."

"But, Rusty, darling, I should be here with you," Dina protested. "A wife should always be at her husband's side, sharing the good and the bad, giving him her support and love."

Addy wanted to say "poppycock." Dina protested being asked to leave because she didn't want Rusty making any decisions without her. After all, she wasn't his wife, yet, and she didn't want anything to postpone or prevent their upcoming nuptials. Without moving, Addy saw Nick in her peripheral vision. He was staring at Dina, a quirky little smile on his face. He knows her, Addy thought, and can see straight through her the way I can.

"You're exhausted," Rusty said. "There's nothing you can do for Addy or for me, tonight. I'm sorry our engagement party ended on such a sour note." He pulled Dina into his arms, her small body lost in his enormous bear hug. "I just want to go over things again with Addy and Nick."

"All right, Rusty, whatever you want." Reluctantly, Dina accepted Brett's arm and the two left the room.

The moment the door closed, Rusty turned to his daughter. "Now, little girl, I want you to tell me what you didn't tell the police."

"I don't know what you're talking about. I told the police everything." Addy crossed her arms over her chest and plopped down into the cream brocade Queen Anne chair by the fireplace.

"Don't play the innocent with me. I know damn well what happened tonight! Somebody tried to kidnap you." Rusty hovered over Addy, glowering at her, daring her to deny the truth.

She'd been afraid this would happen. Her father was too smart, but it had been worth a try, to protect him from worry and to protect herself from his reaction. "The man was trying to rob me, Daddy."

With an exasperated grunt, Rusty turned to Nick. "Do you think he was trying to rob her?"

"No, sir." Nick glanced at Addy, who glared up at him, a slight tremor moving her head, as if she wanted to give him a negative warning but realized her father was watching her. "The man was either a rapist or a kidnapper. My guess is that your daughter can tell us which."

How was she going to fight both of these men? Addy wondered. Obviously. Nick was on her father's side. She glanced back and forth from the big dark Hispanic to the big fair Scot, both men of equal height and similar physiques, although Rusty's body had broadened and softened slightly with age. Birds of a feather. Two strong, overbearing, macho men.

She realized Nick and Rusty were staring at her. "All right. He was trying to kidnap me, but he didn't. I'm fine. Nick foiled his rather clumsy attempt."

"Why the hell didn't you tell the police?" Rusty bent over, placing his meaty hands on the armrests of Addy's chair. Lowering his head, he narrowed his green eyes and frowned. "You didn't want me to know. Is that it, little girl?"

Shoving on her father's burly chest, she pushed him away, then stood up. "Daddy…"

Rusty turned from her, walking across the room to the long windows that faced the veranda of his white-columned mansion. "I'll call the police in the morning and tell them. We'll have to take the proper precautions."

"Daddy … don't." No, she couldn't bear it. Never again. She was free and she intended to stay free. "If you want to hire someone to follow me around, keep watch on my house, that's fine. Even put on some extra guards at work, that's okay, too. But—I will not move back here and I will not be kept under lock and key."

"We'll discuss this in the morning after we've all had some rest." Rusty nodded toward Nick. "Alton's brought Nick's things over from his hotel and Mrs. Hargett has put him in the room beside you."

"What?" Addy exclaimed, her gaze riveted to Nick's smiling face. Just what was going on here? She felt as if these two had telepathically decided what was best for her.

"I'd prefer him in the room with you, but I didn't think you'd ever agree to that." Rusty's grin was pure masculine superiority.

"Why on earth would you put Nick—Mr. Romero next to me? I'm sure you've already called in an army of guards to surround this place."

"We'll have more than enough security by tomorrow," Rusty said. "But regardless of that, Nick's the kind of man I want close to you if there's any trouble."

"How do you know what kind of man Mr. Romero is?" Addy asked.

"Are you forgetting he saved you from a kidnapper tonight, little girl?"

"For heaven's sake, stop calling me that! I'm thirty-five years old."

Completely ignoring Addy's demand, Rusty surveyed Nick from head to toe. "I ran a check on Nick. Just a preliminary check, when Dina said she'd invited her brother-in-law to come for the party and to stay a few days. Did the same thing with Brett Windsor. No big deal."

"But why, Daddy? That's an invasion of privacy."

"Brett Windsor has shown an interest in you. I wanted to see just how much money he did or didn't have. I wouldn't want you to have to go through the same kind of mess you did with Gerald."

"Give me some credit, Daddy. You didn't have to run a check on Brett. I've known all along that it's your money he wants and not me."

"So we're both smarter than we used to be, but it's better to be safe than sorry."

"Some of us are smarter," Addy mumbled under her breath.

"Insulting Dina in front of her brother-in-law?" Rusty laughed.

"I'm going to bed," Addy said, heading for the door. "And in the morning, I'm going home."

"Nick, you go on with her, see her tucked in all safe and sound." Rusty commanded, but a trace of chuckling humor softened his words.

Addy stopped dead in her tracks. Without turning to face either man, she said, "What did you find out about Mr. Romero that makes you think he's so trustworthy?"

"He fought in Nam. Spent ten years in the SEALs. Went in when he was eighteen. He was a DEA agent for nearly a dozen years." Rusty paused, as if waiting for his daughter to comment. When she didn't, he continued. "He came from nothing and made something of himself, just like I did. I think Nick and I are a lot alike. Besides, he's one of Sam Dundee's best friends, and Dundee said that, despite Nick's bad leg, he's one of the toughest, meanest sonofabitches he's ever known. The kind of man you'd want on your side in a fight."

Addy knew she'd made a mistake in asking. Obviously, Nick Romero possessed all the requirements her father considered important in a man. Close friendship with Sam Dundee, whose private security agency her father had used on more than one occasion, was a definite plus in his favor. What more could Rusty McConnell ask for? "With such glowing credentials, I think you should just adopt him—then Dina would have someone around to amuse her when you're too busy."

Rusty's big body shook with laughter. "Dina has Brett for that. Besides, I was thinking I wouldn't mind having a man like Nick for a son-in-law."

Nick's gut twisted. His heartbeat accelerated. What the hell kind of game was McConnell playing? When he saw the stricken look on Addy's face, he wondered if she hated the idea of marriage or just the idea of being married to him. "Don't worry, Addy, I'm not the marrying kind." He gave Rusty a hard stare. "Maybe you'd better just adopt me."

"You take care of our Addy." Rusty walked over and draped one arm around Addy's shoulder, then reached out and placed his other arm around Nick. "If you hear the least little peep out of her during the night, you rush right on in. You—" he turned to Addy "—behave yourself and cooperate."

Rusty walked them to the double doors leading out into the foyer. Stepping away from them, he laid Addy's hand on Nick's arm.

"Why don't you just play along with your father?" Nick whispered. "It'll make it easier for both of us."

"It's obvious that you don't know Rusty McConnell, Mr. Romero. He doesn't respect easy compliance, especially not in his daughter. He expects me to fight back."

"Have you always?"

"No, I haven't." Addy allowed Nick to lead her up the winding staircase. "Daddy has always loved me. Adored me, really. But when I divorced Gerald and moved out of this house, Daddy learned to respect me and accept what I wanted."

"And you're afraid this kidnap scare will somehow turn back the clock to the way things used to be?"

"I won't let that happen."

Nick didn't doubt her. There was more to Addy McConnell than met the eye. Was that why he felt so attracted to her? He couldn't figure it out. She was far from his type. Hell, she wasn't much to look at. Too flat-chested, too plain, too tall and too hostile toward men. He liked women who liked men. Soft, fluttery females. Sultry, sexy ladies who enjoyed flirtation and seduction. Experienced women who knew the rules and played the game to perfection.

Addy McConnell didn't fit the description. But there was something about her, something lonely and vulnerable, and something filled with raging hunger. She hid it well, but Addy was a woman in need. And Nick wanted to be the man to fill that need.

Addy opened her eyes. Dawn light filtered through the sheer panels that covered her bedroom windows. She'd forgotten to draw the yellow drapes last night. An early morning hush enveloped the room. Stillness. Quiet. Then she heard the woman's voice coming from the room next to hers, the room her father had assigned to Nick Romero.

Addy scooted to the edge of the bed, slipping into her blue house slippers. Feeling around at the foot of her rumpled bed, she found the blue robe that matched the lace-trimmed cotton gown she wore. When she'd moved out of her father's mansion nearly seven years ago, she'd left everything behind. She wanted nothing that reminded her of the three years she'd spent with Gerald or the two heartbreaking miscarriages she'd suffered. But her father had kept not only her room unchanged, he'd kept every one of her possessions, including her clothes.

Walking softly, Addy made her way to the door, cracking it slightly open. When she heard Nick's door opening, she closed her own, leaving just enough space so she could peep into the hallway. Dina slipped out of Nick's room. He stopped in the open doorway. She stood close, her body grazing his. Dina wore a sheer black silk negligee. Addy gasped at the sight of Dina's near nakedness. My God, had the woman no shame?

Dina ran her long nails down Nick's cheek, then across his lips. Addy sucked in her breath.

"We're in agreement, then," Dina said, breathlessly. "You won't say a word to Rusty about—about what happened, will you? He might not understand."

"It's none of my business." Nick looked down at the small blond woman who had once tempted him beyond reason. Strange how age and experience change a man. "But Rusty McConnell is nobody's fool. My guess is that he already knows exactly what you're all about and he wants you anyway. Why not be totally honest with him and see what happens?"

"Silly boy. You know better than that. You men are all such fools when it comes to women. You get so possessive and can't bear to think that we might be as experienced as you are. We're supposed to be thankful to all the women who taught you how to be studs in bed, but you're jealous of the men who taught us how to be pleasing."

"Hell, Dina. Rusty knows you've been married five times, doesn't he?"

"Yes, but—"

"Go back to bed before Rusty wakes up and finds you gone. It would be easier to explain everything about your past to him than it would to explain what you've been doing in my bedroom at five-thirty in the morning."

She ran her fingers down his throat, across his bare chest to the undone snap of his tuxedo trousers. "All we've done is talk."

Nick grabbed her hand, shoving it away. "And that's all we're going to do, now or ever. I'm not a sex-hungry seventeen-year-old."

Addy didn't want to listen. She wanted to close the door and forget what she'd seen and heard. But she couldn't. She owed it to her father to find out what was going on between Dina and Nick, didn't she? Of course she did. Liar, her conscience screamed at her. You're jealous. How could this have happened? she wondered. How could she have allowed herself to become interested in a man like Nick Romero?

It was because he'd rescued her that she'd started thinking of him as a knight in shining armor. During the few hours of restless sleep she'd had, she'd dreamed of Nick. Black eyes. Bronze skin. Big and broad and strong. She didn't want to think of him as her champion, as her own personal paladin, but she did. He had defended her from her ex-husband's insults and then saved her from an attacker. Nick Romero, no matter what else he was, was quite a man.

Dina reached out, allowing her hand to hover over Nick's bare chest. "If you're entertaining any fanciful notions about Addy, I'd advise you to forget them. Rusty keeps a close watch on his little girl's love life and he wouldn't approve of you."

"Now that's where you're wrong," Nick said. "Rusty McConnell wholeheartedly approves of me. Just earlier this morning, after you and Brett went upstairs, he told Addy that he wouldn't mind having me for a son-in-law."

"What?" Dina's voice screeched loudly.

"Quieten down before you wake Addy." Nick glanced at Addy's partially open door and smiled.

"You're leaving in a few days. Going—going to El Paso to visit your grandmother."

"I might stay around a while longer."

"Are you doing this to make me jealous?" Dina asked.

"Go back to Rusty's bed, Dina, and leave me alone."

"You can't ever forgive me, can you?"

"Leave, Dina. Now."

Swirling the floor-length robe as she turned, Dina marched down the hall, her chin tilted high. Addy watched until her father's fiancée turned the corner leading to the west wing of the house. She started to close the door. Nick Romero stuck his foot inside the narrow crack. Addy tried to shove the door closed. Ramming his shoulder into the door, he pushed it open.

"Up awfully early aren't you, Addy?"

"Something woke me."

"Something or someone?"

She glared at him, the corners of his mouth curving upward in a self-satisfied smile. He knew she'd seen Dina leaving his room in her see-through nightie and he didn't know whether or not she'd tell her father.

"I think we should have a little talk," Nick said, his body pressing against hers. "In private."

He was warm, his thickly muscled bronze chest like a hot pad where it touched her. Even through her gown she could feel his heat. The tremors began in her stomach, radiating upward and outward until every nerve in her body tingled. The reaction was totally unexpected. Being near a man had never shaken her so badly.

When he grasped her elbow, maneuvering her backward into her room, she made no protest. But when he shut the door, she stepped away from him, wary of his intentions. She didn't know this man, this brother-in-law of Dina's, this former DEA agent. How did she know he was trustworthy, despite her father's approval? Rusty had liked Gerald in the beginning, had been impressed with his knowledge of aeronautics and the day-to-day running of a company like M.A.C.

"Stop looking at me as if you're afraid." Nick took a tentative step toward her, then stopped suddenly when he realized she was genuinely scared. "I don't ravish unwilling women if that's what's worrying you."

"I want you to leave."

"Not until I explain what Dina was doing in my bedroom."

"I don't care what she was doing, or what you were doing or if the two of you were doing something together."

"Adamant about it, aren't you?" Nick grinned at her, taking in the way Addy McConnell looked first thing in the morning. With her long red hair hanging freely halfway down her back and her tall, slender body encased in a cute little blue cotton nightgown and matching robe, she looked about twelve years old. Her face, scrubbed clean of the light makeup she'd worn earlier, radiated with a healthy glow. Her skin was golden tinted, with only a smattering of freckles here and there. A few on her nose. A few more on her throat and arms. He wondered how many there were on the rest of her body.

"Daddy knows that Dina isn't as pure as the driven snow…"

"But my guess is that Rusty wouldn't be pleased to find out that his fiancée, the woman he's bedding, was in my room trying to seduce me." Nick watched Addy closely.

"Was that what she was doing, seducing you?" Addy maintained a calm control over her voice, praying that the quivering she felt inside wouldn't manifest itself in her words.

"It's an old game between Dina and me. Has been for years. She tries to seduce me. I reject her. She likes to think she's tormenting me, that I have to call forth all my strength in order to resist her." Not since that once, twenty-five years ago, when he'd succumbed to his brother's widow, had Nick ever given in to that specific temptation again. After he'd gone against his better judgment and made love to Dina, she'd told him she was going to marry another man. An older man. A more powerful man. A richer man. And he'd spent the rest of his life feeling guilty for bedding Miguel's widow, feeling as if he'd betrayed his brother. Oh, he'd been hot for her then, so hot he'd thought he'd die. But that fire had burned itself out a long time ago and he and Dina had somehow come through it as friends. Friends of a sort, that is.

"My father is very possessive. He wouldn't want to share her."

"He doesn't have anything to worry about where I'm concerned, but he might want to do a nightly bed check in Windsor's room." Nick didn't know it for a fact, but he was reasonably sure that Dina and her stepson had been lovers for years, between her marriages and perhaps even during them. He'd bet his last dime that Rusty McConnell wasn't aware of that little fact.

"What a hateful thing to imply!" Addy said. "You're probably trying to place blame on Brett to save your own hide. After all, I didn't see Dina coming out of Brett's room, did I?"

"Jealous?" Nick moved toward her, slowly, deliberately, like an animal stalking his prey.

"Of you and Dina?" Addy laughed, the sound blatantly phony. "Don't be ridiculous."

Nick reached out, slipping his hand beneath her hair, circling her neck. She gulped in huge swallows of air. Her eyes widened in a mixture of shock and excitement. He pulled her closer. In her bare feet, she stood five inches shorter than he did. The perfect height for him.

"You don't like me very much, do you, Addy?" He touched the tip of his nose to hers, and smiled when he heard her indrawn breath.

"I … I don't know you." Decently clothed in her gown and robe, Addy felt naked, bare to his gaze and touch. Vulnerable. Nick Romero made her feel vulnerable.

"I remind you of your daddy, don't I?" His breath mingled with hers as he lowered his head just a fraction. "All the qualities you dislike in Rusty, you see in me."

"He was right, wasn't he? The two of you are a lot alike."

"Probably." Nick watched her intently, amazed by his own desire for this tall, flat-chested redhead. "It's obvious that you love your father, why is it that you don't like him?"

"I—I do like him. It's just that—that he's so damned macho and controlling. So overprotective because he loves me. He thinks because I'm his daughter, he should be able to protect me from everything and everyone. He—he smothers me, sometimes."

"A man tends to be that way with the people he loves. His woman, his children, his family." Nick tightened his hold on Addy's neck, forcing her head upward toward his until only inches separated them. He touched her bottom lip with the tip of his finger.

She knew he was going to kiss her. What she didn't know was whether or not she wanted him to. "Why—why are you doing this?"

"Damned if I know," he said, then took her mouth.

His kiss was gentle and seductive, a practiced perfection. Addy trembled, her own lips responding, surrendering to a power she'd never known, an enticement she was unable to resist. She sighed, longing for more. Placing his hand on her hip, he stroked her through her cotton gown as he deepened the kiss.

Addy eased her hands upward, twining them around his neck. The minute his tongue entered her mouth, he felt himself spiraling out of control. It had been a long time since he'd gotten aroused so quickly, so thoroughly. If he didn't stop things immediately, he'd be flinging her down on her bed and ripping off that little-girl gown she wore. He'd be finding out how many freckles she had on her body and exactly where they were located.

He broke away from her, releasing her, gently pulling her arms from around his neck. "You're wearing a disguise, Addy McConnell. You wrap yourself up in your Plain-Jane clothes and pretend you're an iceberg, that you dislike sex."

"It—it isn't a disguise." Her words came out choppy, on quick, heated little breaths. Nick had kissed her more thoroughly than she'd ever been kissed in her life, and she was still reeling from the aftereffects. "I am a Plain Jane who dislikes chest-beating Neanderthal men. And I am an iceberg. Just ask my ex-husband."

Nick walked away from her, then turned when he reached the door. "Why should I ask that bastard anything, when I got all the proof I needed, first hand, that you're hot as a firecracker?"

"I am not!"

Nick grinned. "That was a compliment, Red. I like my women hot."

"I am not one of your women."

Nick opened the door, paused briefly, then looked back at Addy. "But you will be." Before she could reply, be walked out and closed the door behind him.

She stood, speechless, her mouth agape, her gaze focused on the door. A riot of emotions exploded inside her. Desire. Anger. Passion. Outrage. She wanted to hit something, preferably Nick Romero. "Of all the overconfident, strutting peacocks! He's insufferable! If he thinks for one minute that—that…" Addy couldn't finish her sentence. Visions of Nick Romero's big body filled her mind. Nick, pressing down onto her, into her, his dark eyes devouring her as he took her. Addy shook her head, trying to erase her erotic thoughts.

In a few hours, after she'd pacified her father by having breakfast with him, she would go home. She had no intention of being around Nick Romero one minute longer than she had to. After today, she'd never have to see him again.

Chapter 3

« ^ »

Addy had delayed going downstairs for breakfast as long as she possibly could. Her father had already sent Mrs. Hargett upstairs twice, the last time relaying a command that she join the others at once.

Glancing out the windows onto the front lawn of her father's estate, located about ten miles outside of Huntsville, Addy thought again how much the rich green lawns and towering old trees reminded her of her mother's ancestral estate where they'd lived until Madeline's death. Wanting to escape all the agonizing memories of his son's kidnapping and subsequent murder and his wife's suicide four years later, Rusty McConnell had taken Addy away, moved her into a sparkling new mansion, pure and untainted by any reminders of a past too painful to remember. She had missed Elm Hill, the vast acres of rolling pastures and thickly wooded forests. Even now, she dreamed of someday returning and living out the rest of her life in the house where five generations of Delacourts had been born and raised. Someday … when she had laid all her fears to rest.

Her mother and Janice's mother had been the last of the line, both women now dead, leaving only the two cousins as heirs to family pride and genteel breeding. And Elm Hill had stood vacant for twenty-five years, Janice having neither the desire nor the money to renovate the old place and Addy, with more than enough money, but not enough courage to fight the demons from her childhood.

Instead, she'd bought a house in Huntsville's historic district, Twickenham.

A sharp, loud knock at her bedroom door snapped Addy out of her rambling thoughts. "Yes?"

The door opened. Mrs. Hargett stood outside in the hallway. "I'm terribly sorry to keep bothering you like this, but—"

"Is he threatening to come and drag me downstairs kicking and screaming?" Addy laughed, remembering how many times during her difficult adolescent years her father had issued similar warnings. Having a daughter with her mother's old-fashioned breeding but none of her delicate blond beauty had often confused Rusty McConnell. But not nearly as much as the mixture of personality traits she had inherited from Madeline and himself. Cool, calm and ever the lady. Rusty liked that. What he didn't like was her stubbornness, which was one of his own most prominent qualities.

"Yes, ma'am. That's what he said." Mrs. Hargett, small and skinny, with round black eyes that were the only bright spot in her pale colorless face, smiled, crinkling the feathery wrinkles that lined her eyes and mouth. "He ordered me to give you that message, but then he told me to wait. He looked over at that Mr. Romero, you know, Mrs. Lunden's brother-in-law."

Agitating circles formed in the pit of Addy's stomach. "You don't have to tell me. He said to let me know that if I didn't come down, posthaste, he'd send Ni—Mr. Romero up to fetch me."

"Mr. McConnell can be outrageous sometimes, can't he?" Mrs. Hargett shook her head, not disturbing one curl of her neatly permed short gray hair that was coated with a hair spray with the sealing powers of a good lacquer.

"There'll be no need for a return message." Addy picked up her purse from the nightstand. "I might as well get this over with."

Together, she and Mrs. Hargett descended the staircase, but once in the foyer the housekeeper turned toward the kitchen while Addy squared her broad shoulders and marched into the dining room.

Rusty McConnell disliked antique furniture. Elm Hill had been filled with five generations of acquisition. Every stick of furniture in this mansion was expensive and new. Rusty sat at the head of the dark oak dining table, a traditional-style buffet at his back, an enormous matching china cabinet at the opposite end of the room, directly behind Dina, who turned and glared at Addy, a look of resentment in her cool blue eyes. Addy wondered what had prompted that look. Something was going on. More than she'd bargained for, she feared.

"About time you got down here." Rusty flicked the ashes from the tip of his cigar into a small brass tray. "We've all finished with breakfast."

"I'm not hungry." Addy, her steps quick and unfaltering, sailed past Dina, not even acknowledging her presence. She stopped briefly to touch Brett on the back. He turned his bright smile on her. "Good morning."

"Why the hell did you put on that dirty, ripped dress you were wearing last night?" Rusty asked, scooting his chair backward, preparing to stand. "You've got a closet full of clothes in your room."

Standing by her father's chair, Addy placed a restraining hand on his shoulder. "Don't get up, Daddy." She bent down, kissing him on the cheek. "You really should have given those clothes to Goodwill or the Salvation Army years ago."

Rusty grunted, then gave his daughter a quick kiss on her forehead. "Sit down. We've got a lot to discuss."

"Make it quick." Addy didn't sit down. Picking up a cup filled with hot, black coffee, she brought it to her lips. "I'm going home, so don't try to stop me."

"I knew you wouldn't want to stay here," Rusty said. "So I've made arrangements to keep you safe in your own home."

Addy sipped the strong, eye-opening coffee. Suspiciously glaring at her father, she tried to figure out why he was being so agreeable. She'd been sure she'd have a battle royal on her hands this morning, certain he'd insist she move back into the mansion and be kept under lock and key twenty-four hours a day. "What's the catch?"

"I've hired protection for you." Rusty ran the tip of his big, meaty finger around his empty cup. Smiling, he glanced up at Addy, a mischievous twinkle in his green eyes.

"What did you do, call Sam Dundee this morning and have him fly in some of his men?" Addy hated the thought of someone following her every move, but it was an acceptable alternative to moving back to her father's house.

"I talked to Sam. He's arranging some extra security, but he suggested a private bodyguard for you, someone he thinks is the best my money could buy." Sticking his cigar back in his mouth, Rusty inhaled deeply, then released a cloud of smoke.

Addy felt the tension in the room, an underlying tremor of emotions coming from the others sitting around the table. She glanced over at Brett, handsome, syrupy sweet Brett, who simply smiled at her. But there was something in his eyes, an odd look that Addy didn't understand. Turning her attention to Dina, she again noted the resentment the other woman couldn't disguise.

Taking a deep breath, she finally looked at Nick Romero, whose tight jeans and cotton knit shirt took nothing away from his aura of sophistication. The tiny diamond stud glistened against his bronze earlobe. Addy tried not to remember the way he'd kissed her, the way he'd made her feel. She didn't want to have any more romantic fantasies about him being her personal champion, her paladin. But the minute she looked at him, her control slipped. A tingling warmth spread through her. She fought it, annoyed. Nick stared at her, his face blank.

"What do you mean, a private bodyguard?" She didn't like the sound of it.

"Sit down, little girl." Rusty reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a rumpled sheet of paper. "Take a look at this."

Addy picked up the paper, scanning the typewritten words. Addy McConnell will not be harmed if you follow our instructions. We will contact you soon with our demands. Do not involve the authorities. Your daughter's life depends on your cooperation.

Pulling out a chair, Addy sat down beside Brett Windsor. He casually laid his arm across the back of her chair. "It came in the morning mail," he said. "Rusty's been horribly upset since he read it."

"These kidnappers were so sure of themselves that they mailed this yesterday." Rusty grabbed the letter out of Addy's trembling fingers. "Nick has already talked to the police and the FBI as well as Sam Dundee."

Jerking around, Addy glared at Nick, whose face was still as unreadable to her as hieroglyphics. "You've put Nick in charge?"

"Considering his background and connections, he volunteered." Rusty cleared his throat, and Addy knew he was trying not to reveal how overwrought he was, how deeply disturbed he was by the memories of that long-ago kidnapping that had ended so tragically. Addy would give anything to prevent the pain she knew he was feeling. Rusty McConnell was a good man. He didn't deserve such torment.

"The letter and envelope it came in will be thoroughly tested, but my guess is that it will be clean, the stationery the kind you can buy anywhere." Nick tapped the edge of the table with his index finger. "The type is computer printer. Most likely from a computer available to a vast number of people."

Addy watched Nick's finger as he continued tapping lightly on the table. She hated herself for remembering the way that finger had caressed her lips. "I suppose I should thank you, once again, for all your help, Mr. Romero. Too bad you're leaving in a couple of days. Going to El Paso to visit your grandmother, aren't you?"

Addy glanced at Dina, whose perfectly made-up face paled slightly, the lush pink blusher on her cheeks seeming overly bright. Her father's fiancée now knew that she'd overheard part of her early morning conversation with Nick.

"Maria is going to be so upset by your change in plans," Dina said, clasping her hands in front of her, cushioning them against her breasts. She looked pleadingly at Rusty. "She's eighty-five, you know, and hasn't seen Nick in over a year."

"Why have you changed your plans?" Addy's heart sank. She didn't want this man here, disrupting her life, especially not now when she was going to have to fight her father to maintain her hard-won independence. She wasn't sure she had the strength to fight two domineering men.

"Your father has asked me to stay on, to help out." Nick leaned back in his chair, glancing first at Addy while he talked, then turning to Rusty. "You might as well go ahead and tell her. She's not going to like it."

"Addy—"

"Tell me what? About the extra security Sam Dundee has arranged, and about these private bodyguards?" Addy hated the way her father hesitated, realizing that he dreaded what he had to say. "More security here at the house? At the company?"

"Some, yes, but mostly for you," Rusty said.

"At the M.A.C. day-care center, right? And bodyguards to watch my house and follow me wherever I go?" She did hate the thought of losing her privacy and a good deal of her freedom, but she wasn't stupid. She knew when her father did something out of overprotectiveness and when it really was for her own good. "I don't like it, but I realize that it's necessary until the authorities discover whoever's behind this kidnap scheme."

"You're being very sensible about this," Dina said. "Rusty was so sure you'd rebel."

Addy thought that her future stepmother sounded disappointed that she wasn't fighting her father. "As long as Daddy understands that I'm not going to leave my home or give up my job, then he can hire a dozen bodyguards for all I care."

"He hasn't hired a dozen bodyguards for you," Brett said, his dazzling smile still in place. "Just one."

"I don't understand." Addy turned to her father. "One man can't stay awake twenty-four hours a day."

"He won't need to if he's sleeping at the foot of your bed." Brett glanced across the table, giving Nick a hard look.

"What?" Shoving her chair backward, Addy jumped to her feet.

Rusty slammed his big fist down on the table, the jar bouncing the china, crystal and silverware, creating sharp tinkling sounds. Creamed coffee sloshed out of Brett's cup. The centerpiece vase of roses teetered, but didn't topple over.

"Sam Dundee is sending some men for around-the-clock surveillance, at your house and at work, but I want someone right by your side, twenty-four hours a day, keeping you safe. Somebody with experience as a fighter, a warrior. A man who can kill to protect you if it comes to that."

"You've asked Sam Dundee to send a man to stay with me twenty-four hours a day?" Hot, spitting indignation filled her. She could not accept this decree. "No, absolutely not! I'm willing to agree to almost anything else, but not a live-in caretaker."

"I'm sorry, Addy, but I can't give you a choice in the matter." Rusty stood up and reached out for his daughter, then dropped his arms when she moved away from him.

"What if … if I agree to move back here?" Did her father have any idea what that offer had cost her? She was willing to take a step back into her sheltered past, if only he'd be reasonable.

"Wherever you stay and whatever you do, Nick is going to be with you. Do you understand that from now until the kidnapper is caught, Nick Romero is going to be your shadow?" Rusty tried again to touch his daughter. Again she retreated.

"Nick Romero?" Addy exclaimed.

"Sam Dundee agreed that he was the best man for the job," Rusty said. "I thought so myself, but had a few doubts because of Nick's … er … well, his bum leg. But Sam assured me that he doesn't have a man as capable as Nick. Sam said Nick Romero was the best."

"I tried to convince your father that Nick wasn't fully recovered, that his being crippled would prevent him from being able to do the best job of protecting you." Dina clutched the white linen napkin in her small hands, twisting it around and around, her sharp pink nails biting into the material.

"His being crippled certainly didn't prevent him from rescuing me last night," Addy said, then realized, too late, that she'd just defended the last man on earth she wanted protecting her.

"Romero always has been the physical type," Brett said, surveying Nick's big body with a touch of superiority and a great deal of disdain. "Brawn over brains, so to speak."

"A Navy SEAL and a top DEA agent has to have plenty of smarts," Rusty said, eyeing Brett with contempt. "And he's the only man I know, besides myself, that I'd trust to take care of my little girl."

Addy didn't like the look her father gave Nick. It said they shared some special secret. Why did her father trust Nick so completely, especially with her life?

Dina voiced Addy's thoughts. "You certainly took an instant liking to Nick, didn't you?"

"Sure did," Rusty said.

"Of course, I've known Nick almost all my life and I trust him, but—well … Addy's life will be quite safe with him, but I'm not sure about her virtue." Dina's smile radiated a frosty warning.

Addy glared at the older woman. Brett appeared shocked. Nick smiled. Rusty bellowed with laughter.

"Addy can protect her own virtue if she wants to," Rusty said, still chuckling. "I'm well aware of your brother-in-law's reputation with the ladies. I've got one myself. Nothing wrong with a man liking women!"

"Are you saying that you don't mind if Addy has to fight Nick off every night?" Dina ran her gaze over Addy's slender body encased in the simple gray dress, spotted with dirt and ripped on one sleeve. "Even though Addy's hardly his type, sooner or later, she's bound to appeal to him if the two of them are together constantly."

"Addy's not his type, huh?" Rusty reached out, pulling his daughter close to his side. She didn't resist. "Likes 'em shorter and fuller and sexier, huh?"

"I think Addy is lovely," Brett said. "She has a real cameo beauty, and such elegance."

"Thank you, Brett." Addy jabbed her father in the ribs with her elbow.

"If the time comes when Addy starts looking good to Nick, then I think she'll know how to handle him," Rusty said. "Addy not only looks like me, she's smart like me. She'll know exactly what to do with a man like Nick."

There was a conspiracy afoot. Addy was certain. Her father and Nick Romero knew something that no one else in this room knew. Something about her and Nick.

"I'm totally opposed to Nick getting involved in all this." Dina dropped her twisted napkin on the table. "He isn't physically sound. His last operation was only six weeks ago."

"I know how fond you are of Nick," Rusty said. "But he's quite fit. Sam Dundee told me himself that he'd offered Nick a job with him as soon as he'd finished his visit to El Paso."

"Well, Addy, what are we going to do with these men?" Dina asked, but she didn't look at the younger woman.

"You can do whatever you want," Addy said. "I'm going home."

"Not without Nick," Rusty said, giving her a tight hug.

Addy pulled out of her father's embrace, turned to Nick and smiled. "We can go in your car. Mine's at home since Daddy sent the limo for me last night."

Nick stood, retrieving his cane from its resting place against the side of the table. Walking toward Addy, he offered her his arm. She glanced from his smiling face to his big arm, then looked over at Dina, who was watching them intently, a frown marring her perfect features. Addy slipped her arm through Nick's. "I wouldn't dream of making you sleep at the foot of my bed," Addy said, loud enough for everyone in the room to hear.

"I could take that as an invitation to share your bed."

"It is an invitation—for you to sleep in my guest bedroom."

"That won't do," Nick said. "I'll be too far away."

"It's the room next to mine."

"I should be in the room with you."

Addy realized that three pairs of eyes watched them and three sets of ears listened to every word they said. When they reached the door leading into the foyer, she paused, glancing around the room. Her father seemed a little too pleased with himself. Brett was still smiling, but that odd look hadn't left his eyes. Dina was positively seething with jealousy. Addy wondered if her father was too blind to see it.

"We'll work something out," Addy said, then lowered her voice to a whisper as she and Nick stepped out into the foyer. "You are not staying in my room. I—I'm not going to fight Daddy about this. He's scared. Anything could happen with his high blood pressure and bad heart. I may have to endure your presence twenty-four hours a day, but I will not have you invading my bedroom."

"I never enter a lady's bedroom uninvited."

"Good. That settles it, then."

"Does it?" Nick asked, his smile widening at the look of surprise on Addy's face.

Huntsville traffic, especially on a Saturday morning, was maddening, but no better or worse than in any bustling city its size. Nick maneuvered his '68 silver Jag out of slow moving lanes and into more rapid ones, deftly avoiding the areas under construction as much as possible. The drive from the McConnell estate to the Twickenham district took almost twenty minutes. During the entire drive, Addy had been subdued. He'd wondered if she was pouting, but decided she wasn't the type. She was too direct. More likely, she was thinking about what had happened last night, how close she'd come to being a victim, and how drastically her life would change during the following days, maybe even weeks or months. There was no way to tell how quickly the authorities would nab the would-be kidnapper, or even if they would ever discover his or her identity. Money, if that were the true motive for the kidnapping, was a powerful inducement. There was the constant danger that he or she would try again.

"Turn here," Addy said pointing. "It's the second house. White with black shutters."

He parked the car in the small narrow driveway, killed the motor and glanced at Addy's home. Where her father's house was a replica of antebellum splendor, sporting huge white columns and a wraparound veranda, this house was authentic. Nick didn't know much about styles, but he could tell the house was old. Built long before the turn of the century would be his guess. Glistening snowy white in the noonday summertime sunshine, the house boasted a fresh coat of paint as did the glossy black shutters. Someone had spent a fortune restoring this place. That someone was probably Addy McConnell.

Opening the car door, Addy stepped out onto the sidewalk, stretching her long, slender frame that had been cramped in the confines of the small sports car. Nick watched the way she moved, all fluid and graceful. Her arms arched above her head, hiking up her skirt. He got a good view of her legs—small ankles, well-shaped calves, and long, trim thighs. Nick felt a tightening in his gut, and cursed himself for being a fool. Kidding Addy about seducing her was one thing, but actually doing it would be quite another matter. Kidding her was fun; the thought of making love to her actually scared him.

"Are you getting out or are you going to sit there staring at me all day?" she asked.

"I'll get my bag." He grabbed the battered brown leather suitcase he'd used for countless years and followed her up the steps leading to the small front portico supported by double columns on each side. "How long have you lived here?"

"For five years." She unlocked the front door. "Before that I shared an apartment with Janice. Before Ron came along."

"Ron's the boyfriend, right? The sulky-looking guy who picked her up last night?" Nick stepped over the threshold and felt as if he'd been transported back in time. The pale yellow walls added warmth to the wide foyer. A dramatic staircase, built against the left wall, curved upward.

"I didn't know you'd met Ron." Addy soaked in the beauty of her home, glancing around, proud of each familiar piece of furniture, each picture on the wall, every detail over which she'd fretted. "He's all right, I guess. Janice loves him and says they're getting married eventually. He's got a big chip on his shoulder when it comes to people with money. I think he's the type that would like to be rich, but doesn't want to work for it."

"Is Janice rich?" Nick ran the toe of his shoe over the blue and cream wool rug that covered the wide plank floor.

"It's a nineteenth-century Chinese rug." Addy pointed to Nick's feet. "And, no, Janice isn't rich. Her father squandered most of her mother's inheritance. All she has left is half interest in our grandparents' home, Elm Hill."

"Is everything in this room old?" Nick asked.

"Almost every item is antique," Addy said. "From the Federal period piano built around 1815," she pointed to the small musical instrument placed directly beneath the staircase, "to the Chippendale cherry side chairs, to that original Jan Weenix still life on the wall."

"Mmm… Is Elm Hill worth anything?"

"Yes, Elm Hill is definitely worth something. Why do you ask?"

"If Janice isn't rich, why doesn't she sell her half of the estate?"

"Our grandparents' will prohibits Janice from selling her half to anyone but me."

"Has Janice asked you to buy it?" Nick wondered about Janice's boyfriend. Rusty had told him that Ron Glover was a low-life creep who'd spent most of his teen years in and out of juvenile court. He'd been arrested numerous times as an adult, but had never been convicted.

"No. Why?"

"Just curious."

"Curious about Ron Glover, wondering if he's money-hungry enough to plot my kidnapping?" Addy placed her foot on the bottom step of the staircase.

Gripping his walking stick with one hand, Nick tightened his hold on his suitcase with the other. "Is he?"

Addy continued up the stairs, Nick following. "I don't know about Ron. It's possible. He's not a very nice man, but then neither is my ex-husband."

"Gerald Carlton? You think he might be behind the kidnap plot? Why? Rusty said his second wife's father is quite wealthy, that he made Gerald a vice-president in his company."

Addy opened the door to the first bedroom. "Gerald's wife is wealthy, not Gerald. Believe me, he's far more money-hungry than Ron Glover and far smarter."

Nick walked into the guest bedroom, a medium-sized square room. The upper walls were pale cream, the bottom wainscoted surface had been painted a light olive green. The bed, with tall, thin posters, stood in the middle of the room, an embroidered chenille spread covering it. To the left of the bed a wooden cupboard filled with knickknacks fitted neatly into the corner and a huge bedside table rested on a large area rug to the right. A stack of books lay atop the old chest nestled at the foot of the bed.

"Reminds me of a bed and breakfast I stayed in once a few years back." He set down his leather suitcase. "You really hate your ex-husband, don't you?"

"I did hate him for a long, long time. Now—now, I'm not sure. I don't wish him dead, but—but I hate seeing him so happy with his wealthy wife and fat, healthy babies."

"So we have two suspects," Nick said, sitting down on the bed, testing it by bouncing lightly up and down. "New mattress?"

"What do you mean we have two suspects?"

"Well, not counting the fact that the kidnapper may be some stranger, some unknown criminal out to get rich quick, we have an ex-husband who obviously hates you and your father as much as you hate him … and we have your cousin s boyfriend, who'd like to get rich without earning his money the old-fashioned way."

"I see." Addy's face paled. "My room is right next door. I'm going to take a bath and change clothes. Why don't you look around and check the place out for yourself?"

"What sort of locks do you have on the doors? Dead bolt? And what about the windows? Is there a security system?"

"I don't know about the doors and windows, but, yes, there is a security system. It isn't on right now. I often forget to turn it on. I forgot last night. Daddy's always fussing at me."

"What about some lunch?" Nick suggested.

"Are you cooking?" she asked, then walked outside into the hallway.

"How about if we order pizza?"

"No anchovies," Addy said, "and lots and lots of black olives."

Nick inspected the room, wondering if the entire house looked like this. Picking up his suitcase, he lifted it onto the bed, then looked around for a closet. There wasn't one. Instead he found a large, mahogany armoire, empty except for several ladies' straw hats lying across the single top shelf.

Within a few minutes, he heard water running. Addy was taking a bath. His mind quickly spanned the short distance between Addy's bath and her naked body. He wished he wasn't so damned curious about what she looked like without her clothes. Probably skinny, he thought, then remembered the glimpse of her shapely thigh. Hell, he'd been a fool to agree to Rusty's request. He had no business playing bodyguard to Dina's future stepdaughter. He should have insisted Sam Dundee send in one of his best men from Atlanta.

Nick hated admitting that he didn't want another man guarding Addy McConnell night and day for God knew how long. She was a needy woman, ripe for the picking and he couldn't bear to think of her giving herself to some other guy, some guy who would break her heart. He, on the other hand, had the willpower to stay with her and protect her without seducing her, despite what he'd led her to believe.

And … he didn't trust anyone else to keep her safe. That was the bottom line. Addy was in danger, and there was something about her that brought out all the possessive, protective instincts deep inside him. The only way anyone was going to hurt Addy was over his dead body.

Addy and Nick sat in shield-back chairs with cane bottoms. The crusty remains of a large sausage pizza, with extra black olives, covered the grease-stained box lying in the middle of an oak trestle table. Nick took a deep swallow from his beer, sprawling his long legs outward, resting his heels against a braided throw rug.

"You know, Addy, you're taking this awfully well. A lot better than I expected. You've been playing the part of the perfect hostess ever since we got here."

"I don't want you in my house." She picked up a canned cola. "I don't want anyone acting as my live-in bodyguard. But my seventy-year-old father has high blood pressure, a bad heart, and he refuses to stop smoking those awful cigars. Things are going to be difficult enough without my acting childish. I plan to cooperate with you as much as I can."

"You're being too nice to me." Nick glanced around the huge, oak-paneled kitchen. The floors boasted their original wide planks, and a chest-high brick fireplace covered a third of one wall. "Are we playing some sort of game?"

"You're the one who seems to enjoy playing games." Addy sipped her cola, then frowned at him. "My father wants you here. So be it. Despite the fact that I will not allow anyone, not even Daddy, to keep me locked up for my own safety, I know I'm in danger and I want protection, for my sake and for Daddy's. If anything happened to me—"

"Rusty told me about your brother."

"They—they shot him in the head. Daddy gave them a million dollars, and they killed Donnie anyway. He was only nine. I was six."

"And after that, Rusty kept you in a gilded cage?"

She nodded. He noticed the shimmering moisture glazing her eyes. She looked down at her lap, avoiding his scrutiny.

"You're right," Nick said, staring directly at her. "I do like to play games, especially with women. And I can't promise that I won't play games with you, from time to time. You jump to the bait so quickly. I can get you riled up in no time and I admit I enjoy kidding you."

"You annoy me by making sexual suggestions." Addy jumped up, pouring what was left of her cola down the sink drain. "If you keep doing that, we're going to be fighting all the time. Is that what you want?"

"A little harmless flirtation is good for you, didn't you know that?" Nick picked up the pizza carton. Looking around for a garbage can, he saw none. "Where's the trash?"

"In the pantry." She pointed him in the right direction. "Save your flirtation for Dina and other women who enjoy it."

"You might enjoy it, if you'd give me half a chance. Most women think I'm irresistible." Nick tried not to laugh when he saw the anger in her eyes. Somewhere along the way, Addy McConnell had forgotten how to have a good time, how to joke and laugh and be carefree. Maybe, during their stay together, he could teach her a thing or two about enjoying life. When the image of her lying upstairs in his bed, her curly red hair spread out and covering her naked breasts, flashed through Nick's mind, he groaned.

"I'm not into one-night stands or brief, meaningless affairs." Addy clutched the edge of the sink.

"I said I liked flirting with women. I didn't say I bedded every woman I found attractive." In recent years, Nick's tastes had become very discriminating and he'd sought more than sex from his relationships. Maybe he was getting old, but the idea of finding the right woman appealed to him more and more. Of course, she'd be curvaceous and blond. She'd have a sense of humor, enough to laugh at his jokes, anyway. Naturally, she'd be dynamite in bed and no more interested in marriage than he was.

"Since Dina pointed out that I'm not your type, why waste your time with me? Is it that important for all women to fall swooning at your feet?"

Nick laughed, picturing Addy swooning at his feet. He liked the idea, and wondered if there was any possibility that she—

The insistent ring of the telephone interrupted Nick mid-thought. Addy reached for the wall phone.

"Hello? Yes, he's here." She handed the red telephone to Nick.

"Nick Romero. When? … Where? … Yes, the wound would be in his right hand. A stiletto blade… Powerfully built. Young, maybe early twenties. Long brown hair… Okay. We'll be there shortly."

Addy gazed at Nick, wide-eyed. "What was that all about?"

"The police think they've found your would-be kidnapper."

"What? Has he told them who hired him?" On trembly legs, Addy walked over to Nick, grabbing him by the arm.

"He couldn't tell them anything. He's dead. Been dead since early this morning." Nick put his arm around Addy to steady her. She swayed into him slightly, then righted herself immediately, pulling out of his comforting embrace.

"What do they want us to do?" she asked. "Identify him?"

"Yes." He hated seeing that pale, haunted look on her face. "I can't leave you alone here, so I'll have to take you with me. But I can identify the body. There's no need for you to see him."

"Whoever hired him, killed him."

"It looks that way."

"He—or she—will try again."

"Probably." Nick wanted to pull her back in his arms and comfort her. He wanted to promise her that he'd take care of her, not let anyone hurt her. But Addy was afraid of him, scared of him as a man. And as much as he hated to admit it, maybe she had a right to be. He couldn't ever remember feeling so possessive and protective. Hell, maybe his taste in women was changing. Could it be that after all these years of chasing some bosomy blond dream, the woman destined to change his life was a skinny redhead?

Chapter 4

« ^ »

The room was cool. Nick was hot. He'd sprawled his big body out on the soft cream sheet, kicking the covers to the foot of the bed. Normally he slept in the raw, but considering the possibility that he might have to rush to Addy McConnell's defense at a moment's notice he'd left on his briefs.

He wasn't sure of the time, but figured it was close to midnight. After a quick supper of cold ham sandwiches and potato salad, he and Addy had sat in her small den adjacent to the kitchen and listened to one of her favorite tapes, the musical score from Phantom of the Opera. Having been raised in Texas, Nick preferred the elemental sounds of country, but over the years he'd learned to appreciate various types of music. He found that Addy's tastes were more select. She preferred classical and semi-classical above all else. She was a patron of the arts, having season tickets to the symphony.

More than one luscious blonde from Nick's past had exposed him to the social world of the ultrarich. He fit in just as well with multimillionaires as he had with his Navy SEAL comrades and his fellow DEA agents. If Nick Romero was anything, he was adaptable. He had discovered early in life that the people who succeeded were those who found a way to use the system to their advantage. Even a half-breed Mexican kid with an illiterate dirt farmer for a father and a whore for a mother could rise above his humble beginnings if he had the guts and determination to change, to learn and grow, to assimilate every new experience. In other words, to adapt.

Listening to Addy move around in her room, Nick figured she was as restless as he, and was probably having a difficult time getting to sleep. Going to the police station had been far more upsetting for Addy than she'd been willing to admit. Nick was accustomed to crime, was used to being exposed to the seamier side of life where murder was a common occurrence. But Addy was not. When he'd tried to discuss the attempted kidnapping with her, she'd shied away from the subject and had downright refused to talk about the untimely death of her assailant, who had died from a fall off a steep embankment on Monsano Mountain.

Addy was scared, but was trying hard not to show it. Nick wanted to assure her that it was all right to be afraid, that it was not only normal but smart. Bravery and fear were constant companions, as inseparable as life and death. Fear could save your life, whereas fearlessness often proved fatal.

He heard the door to Addy's bedroom open, then the click-click tapping of her shoes. Suddenly, all sound ceased. He sat up in his bed, listening. The stairs creaked. Someone was walking up or down.

Easing open his own bedroom door, Nick surveyed the darkened hallway. Moonlight spread out over the wooden floor like creamy yellow-white butter across dark toast. Still hearing the sporadic creaking, Nick eased carefully down the hall until he reached the landing. Addy, her satin high-heel slippers dangling from her fingers, tiptoed down the stairs. Nick sucked in his breath at the sight of her retreating back. Her tall slender body, visible in the soft moonlight, was draped in a pale lavender confection of gossamer silk and lace.

What the hell was she doing? She looked like a woman running away, trying to escape from someone or something. He'd like to go back to bed, go to sleep and forget that Addy, upset, uncertain and scared, was wandering around downstairs. But he couldn't. She was his responsibility.

He returned to his room, slipped into a pair of jeans and made his way quietly down the stairs, the faint tapping of his cane echoing in the stillness. From the foyer, he could see light under the kitchen door. He hated to intrude on her, to interrupt her privacy, but dammit, he wouldn't be doing his job if he didn't check on her.

Easing open the door, he stopped dead still when he saw her standing in profile, slowly pouring herself a glass of chilled white wine. Her red hair, deep and rich and gloriously bright like the rusty, red clay earth of Alabama, hung in curly disarray down her back and across her shoulders. The silky peignoir set she wore swept the floor. The robe, a sheer concoction edged with heavy lace at the hem and across the bottom of each long sleeve, had fallen open to reveal an empire style gown of the same diaphanous lavender material. The bodice, cut low and revealing the slight swell of Addy's breasts, was covered with matching lace.

Dear God, had he ever actually thought this woman, this smoldering female temptation, was plain? If Addy McConnell chose to dress circumspectly in public, she revealed her true sensuous self in her sleepwear. Nick's whole body tightened with anticipation. He didn't think he'd ever seen anything as desirable as the vision before him, one he found difficult to believe was real.

"Addy?" Even to his own ears his voice sounded rough and hard.

She jumped, startled by his invasion. With her green eyes glaring and her pink mouth opening to a perfect oval, she stared at him. He noticed that her hand, holding the wineglass, trembled ever so slightly.

"Sorry if I frightened you." He walked through the doorway and into the kitchen. "I heard you come downstairs and wanted to make sure you were all right."

"I'm fine." She set the glass on the counter. "I'm sorry if I disturbed your sleep."

"I wasn't asleep." He eyed the wine bottle. "I'm your bodyguard, remember? I don't sleep unless you do." He nodded toward the sauvignon blanc. "Pour me a glass, too, if you think it'll help us both get a good night's rest."

She looked at him with pleading eyes. "Couldn't you leave me alone? I'm not used to having someone else around, watching me, monitoring my every move."

"It can't be helped, so we'd both better try to make the best of it." Moving slowly, Nick stopped just short of touching her. His gaze traveled over her, from fiery hair to bare feet. "What did you do with your shoes?"

"I tossed them in the chair." She nodded toward her slippers. "There." Addy wished he would stop looking at her. He made her nervous staring at her as if he could see straight through her gown. But then, maybe he could. She wasn't accustomed to men seeing her in her underwear or her sleepwear, so she indulged herself in her passion for sexy, frilly and very feminine attire that she alone would see. But Nick could see her. All of her, here in the kitchen light.

She could feel a delicious warmth spreading through her, casting a delicate pink hue to her naturally golden complexion. This man had a strange effect on her, creating a desire in her to experiment with the danger she knew he offered. Nick Romero would be an exciting, demanding lover. Something she'd never known. But she was a failure at intimacy, unable to respond properly, incapable of achieving fulfillment. She didn't dare risk the utter humiliation she'd feel if she disappointed Nick. She'd been devastated by Gerald's frustration over her inadequacies, and Gerald was certainly no match for a man like Nick, a man whose every look, word and move reeked of sensuality.

Nick caressed the neck of the wine bottle absentmindedly, wishing it was Addy's soft throat. Retrieving a glass from the row of crystal goblets inside the open cupboard, he poured the clear golden liquid.

Addy watched the way his big hand moved over the wine bottle and the crystal glass. She could almost feel his touch on her. Instantly her nipples hardened.

Taking a sip of the chilled dry wine, Nick looked up at Addy, his dark eyes conveying a message of desire. She tried to look away from him, but his gaze held her spellbound. When he glanced down at her breasts, she sucked in a deep breath, willing herself not to sway toward him.

"Why don't we take our wine into the den," he said. "We'll be more comfortable in there, and we can talk."

For a split second she thought he was going to touch her. She was half afraid he would and half afraid he wouldn't. "I … I don't want to talk. I just want to be left alone."

"But I can't leave you alone. You know that. It's my job to guard you against danger twenty-four hours a day." He could see that she was on the verge of angry tears. He suspected that she was as upset over her reaction to him as she was over the turmoil in her life. She was a woman who seemed to pride herself on her independence and self-control, and here he was undermining both. As long as the threat of a kidnapping hung over her head, Addy would require his presence as a bodyguard. And, as long as the two of them were together, sparks were going to fly and both of them were at the mercy of their own baser instincts. He didn't doubt for a minute that Addy wanted him as much as he wanted her. He could see it in her eyes, feel it in her body's response to him.

"Nick, please … don't—"

"Don't what, Red? I haven't done anything."

Did he honestly think he had done nothing? Addy wondered. Surely a man as experienced as Nick Romero knew only too well what effect he was having on her. Circumstances might have forced her to accept his presence in her home. Her life could be in danger, and she knew her father's health and peace of mind were at risk. If only the man her father had chosen as her bodyguard was anyone else on earth beside this devastatingly handsome man with the power to awaken her long dormant sexual longings.

"Come on, Red, let's have a midnight powwow. We'll swap old war stories." He placed his hand on the small of her back, opening his palm to cover a wide expanse of her silk-clad body. She tensed immediately. "Relax." He gave her a slight nudge. "This has been a hell of a day for you. You don't really want to be alone. You want to talk and yell and scream and maybe even cry."

"You think you're so damned smart, don't you?" Addy walked away from him, removing herself from his warm, caressing hand. "For your information, Mr. Romero, I seldom cry. I used up a lifetime supply of tears years ago."

He followed her into the den, not replying to her comment. Somewhere behind the security wall she'd built around herself, Addy's deepest emotions still existed, waiting to be released. Nick wanted to be the man to penetrate that wall, to tear it down—brick by brick if necessary. He wanted to be the man to bring those buried feelings back to life.

Entering the dark den, Addy turned on a small brass table lamp decorated with china roses and covered with a parchment shade. A warm, mellow glow filled the room, revealing pale eggshell walls and an orderly clutter of antiques, from a painted Pennsylvania German chest to a Queen Anne curly maple chair.

Addy sat down on the old sofa which was covered with a paisley throw and held a variety of crewel, cross-stitch and needlepoint pillows. She clutched the crystal goblet in her unsteady hand, her eyes focusing on the liquid shifting back and forth. Bringing the glass to her lips, she sipped the wine slowly, trying to ignore Nick Romero when he entered her cozy, private hideaway. She'd been forced to share several hours with him before bedtime, all the while wishing she were alone. She'd been able to handle both Nick and her own emotions earlier, but now she felt vulnerable, less able to protect herself.

Nick walked across the wooden floor, barely noticing the throw rugs he stepped on as he made his way toward Addy. She sat on the small sofa. There was room for him, but he could tell by her stiffly arched back, her tilted chin and her cool manner that she would prefer he didn't join her. He sat down in a sturdy flowered wingback chair to the left of the sofa, a large round end table separating them.

He watched her. He'd seen people who tried to keep everything bottled up inside. Sooner or later they exploded like a time bomb. Addy needed to release some of her pent-up emotions.

"Do you think Gerald Carlton could be behind the kidnapping attempt?" Nick asked, pleased when Addy glared at him with fiery green eyes. "Is he capable of murder?"

Taking another sip of her wine, Addy closed her eyes, knowing that images of her life with her former husband would flash through her mind. How many times, she wondered, had Gerald made her feel worthless as a woman? How many nights had she waited for him to come home from some other woman's bed? How many times had he accused her of being unattractive and frigid? But was he capable of murder?

"Gerald is capable of almost anything if there's enough money in it for him." She set her wineglass down on the end table and turned to Nick. "Could he kill for money? I don't know. Possibly. Probably."

"He really did a number on you, didn't he, Red?"

"I would prefer not to talk about my marriage."

"You prefer letting all that pain fester inside you like an infected wound? That's a mistake."

"What would you have me do? Pour out my heart and soul to you so that you can comfort me? Is your male ego so enormous that you think you have to prove to me how wrong my ex-husband was about me? Is that what this is all about? You want to prove that you're man enough to make the ugly, frigid, little rich girl enjoy sex for the first time in her life?"

Nick hadn't expected such a vehement reaction. Obviously, he'd struck a nerve, a sexual nerve. He took a generous sip from his own wineglass, then set it beside Addy's on the table. "Did you love Carlton when you married him?" Nick wasn't sure why he wanted her answer to be negative. What difference did it make if Addy had loved her ex-husband? It was apparent she despised the man now.

"What?" Dammit! How could she have allowed herself to lose control the way she had? She hadn't meant to blurt out such personal information, but Nick had angered her. Somehow this man she'd known for a little over twenty-four hours had a way of provoking her strongest emotions. Her first impression of him had been right. He was a dangerous man.

"Did you love Carlton?"

"I think so. It was no grand passion or anything like that. I was twenty-five and I'd lived a fairly sheltered life. Men weren't exactly beating a path to my door. Gerald was charming and attentive and—and Daddy liked him."

"But you weren't in love with him?"

"I have no idea what being in love means." Addy jumped up, her hands knotted into fists as they rested against her hips. "I don't want to talk to you about Gerald or about love or sex. Daddy's paying you to be my bodyguard, not my psychiatrist, so just leave me alone."

Nick stood up, reached down, picked up her wineglass and handed it to her. "I'd say you've been left alone for too log."

Hesitating briefly, she took the glass, making sure their hands didn't touch. "I like being alone. It's preferable to spending time with insufferably macho men who think a Plain Jane like me should be grateful they've shown an interest."

Nick laughed aloud at her words. Plain Jane indeed. Was it possible, really possible, that Addy had no idea how incredibly lovely she looked right this minute? Had her ex-husband totally destroyed her confidence in her sexual attractiveness? Damn, what Nick would give for five minutes alone with Gerald Carlton!

Stepping away from Nick, Addy downed the remainder of her wine, then set the glass on a nearby chest. Nick set his glass beside hers, then with a swift move that alarmed Addy, he stepped behind her, grasping one shoulder.

"What are you doing?" Her voice was breathless. His big hand clutched her silk-covered shoulder as he gave her a gentle nudge forward. "Nick, stop it!"

"I want to show you something," he said, giving her another shove. "Move, woman."

She balked, refusing to budge another inch. "Stop shoving me around and stop giving me orders. What's gotten into you?"

"I want you to walk out into the foyer."

"Why?"

"I told you. I want to show you something."

"This is my house. What could you possibly show me that I haven't seen a hundred times?" she asked, trying to pull away from him. He held her shoulder firmly.

"You have two choices," Nick said. "Either you march your little fanny out into the foyer or I'll carry you."

"You wouldn't dare." She eyed his cane.

"Try me."

She didn't bother to turn around and face Nick. She didn't have to see the look on his face to know he was serious. She could hear the determination in his voice. She knew that if he had to carry her, he would, even if walking unaided by his cane might be painful for him.

"Oh, all right." The day had been almost more than she could bear. Accepting Nick as a live-in bodyguard despite her desire to remain free. Finding out that the man who'd attempted to kidnap her last night had met a deadly fate at the hands of some unknown person or persons still intent on harming her. Realizing that, for the first time in her life, she was sexually attracted to a man. Strongly, irrationally attracted to a man she had begun to think of as her personal champion.

She simply wasn't up to any more emotional upheaval. She didn't have the strength to fight Nick. Not right now.

With his hand firmly planted on her shoulder, Nick guided her out into the foyer. Momentarily releasing her, he flipped the switch that turned on the chandelier. Light, glittering off the cut crystal, flooded the entrance hall.

Nick led her to the enormous gilt-framed mirror that hung on a side wall. He set his cane aside. Confusion filled Addy's mind and heart when Nick, standing behind her, his big, dark hands draping her shoulders like bronze claws, positioned her directly in front of the rectangular looking glass.

She tried to avert her eyes, as if afraid of what her reflection would reveal. When she gazed down at her feet, Nick released one shoulder, taking her chin in his hand and tilting her face upward. She closed her eyes. Whatever he was trying to do, she wanted no part of it. She wasn't going to let him make her see something she didn't want to see.

With his lips close to her ear, he whispered, "Open your eyes, Addy, and tell me what you see."

He ran his hand down her neck, caressing her throat. Then he reached out and encircled her waist with his arm, pulling her back against him. She felt his hard arousal against her buttocks. Inadvertently she cried out.

"Open your eyes."

"No." The word escaped from her throat on a tormented breath.

"If you're afraid to take a good look at yourself and tell me what you see, then just listen and I'll tell you what I see."

"Please, Nick—don't."

He splayed his hand across her stomach. She jerked, an instinctive reaction that could have been fear or passion. Nick knew enough about women to understand that Addy was afraid. More of herself than of him.

"I see a woman, Addy. A woman. Not a girl and not even a lady, though I know that you are a lady in every sense of the word."

She squirmed against him, trying to pull away, wishing she could escape before he said anymore. "I hate you."

"No, you don't." His voice was deep and dark and incredibly sensuous. "You hate yourself, don't you, Addy? I'm making you feel like a woman and that frightens you."

"Why are you doing this to me?" She struggled against him. He held her tightly.

"God, Red, stop that! You've already got me so hot I'm about to lose it."

She stopped moving and stood perfectly still. His words seeped into her consciousness. Her body stiffened with denial, not wanting to admit that she was every bit as aroused as he was.

He ran his fingers through her hair, lifting it and watching the titian strands fall back to her shoulders as he released them. "You have beautiful hair. It's like fiery silk. Thick, wavy flames."

When he pulled her closer and closer against him, she didn't resist. He was weaving a spell with his words, words that she warned herself didn't mean a thing. Nick was a practiced lover, a Latin Romeo with the ability to charm any woman. She couldn't let him charm her. She didn't dare.

"Your skin," he said, caressing her neck, pushing aside her silk robe to fondle her shoulder. "Your skin is soft and smooth. All of your little freckles intrigue me. I'd like to kiss every one of them, and someday—someday soon—I will."

Addy drew in deep breaths trying to calm her raging senses. Don't listen to him, she told herself. He doesn't mean what he's saying.

He moved his hand downward, over her breasts, barely grazing her tight nipples. She closed her mouth, biting off a cry of excitement. Both of his hands spanned her waist. "Your body is sleek and slender and infinitely fascinating. When I first saw you, I thought you were flat-chested. I was wrong." He covered her small breasts with his hands, lifting their delicate weight, brushing her nipples with his thumbs. "They're high and firm and fill my hands. And I love the way your nipples hardened at my touch. You're a very responsive woman, Addy. Did you know that?"

She was beyond speaking, so she nodded. He buried his face against her neck, his mouth opening, his tongue lavishing seductive moisture on her heated flesh.

She leaned backward against him, unable to stop herself from succumbing to the enchantment of his words and the lure of his big hard body. Releasing her breasts, he slid his hands farther down her slender frame, stopping to grasp her hips, then gently kneading her buttocks. "Full and firm and tight." His hands skimmed the sides of her thighs. "Legs like a thoroughbred. Long and trim. Do you have any idea how much I want those long legs of yours wrapped around me?"

She groaned when he eased both hands across the front of her legs, delving between them, easing the silky fabric of her gown up against the hot moistness she could not hide.

"Open your eyes, Addy, and take a look at a beautiful, sensuous woman … a woman I want desperately."

She opened her eyes, took one look at herself in the mirror and squeezed her eyes shut. "No, no … no."

"You dress yourself in plain, unattractive clothes trying to disguise the beautiful woman you are, but you sleep in frothy negligees. I'll bet all your lingerie is utterly sexy and feminine, isn't it?"

She didn't respond. His hands still rested between her thighs. He lifted up, pressing his fingers against her. Thrashing her head from side to side, she moaned.

"I want to make love to you. To you, Addy. I don't give a damn about Rusty's millions and I don't care what your ex-husband says. With me … with us … sex would be different. Open your eyes, Red. Take a look at us and tell me that you know what I'm saying is true."

Addy opened her eyes slowly, forcing herself to look in the mirror. God, was that her? The woman she saw staring back at her was beautiful. She was filled with a beauty born of passion, her face flushed with desire, her body taut with longing. And Nick stood behind her, his big body hard against her, his maleness pounding demandingly. He moved his hands over her as she watched.

"What do you see, Addy? Tell me."

"It's not me," she said, her voice hoarse with mounting desire. "You've turned me into someone I don't know."

"It is you, Addy. The real you. The real woman who wants and needs. You're on fire. You're on fire for me."

"Nick?"

He turned her around, taking her in his arms. The image of the wanton woman in the mirror burned brightly in Addy's mind. Nick Romero was a sorcerer, a wizard, a magician. He possessed the power to drive her wild with desire, to make her look and act like a beautiful, desirable woman.

He was her defender … her champion … her paladin. And she longed to be his woman.

He nibbled at her lips, teasing them apart. She sighed, opening for his possession. He took her with a force that shook them both. He deepened the kiss. She clung to him, running her hands over his bare shoulders and back, pressing herself against him, hot and ready and desperate.

It was the most difficult thing he'd ever done, and he knew he would probably hate himself in the morning. But he couldn't take advantage of Addy. He realized that all he had to do was lead her to the nearest bed, and she'd let him make love to her all night. But tomorrow, she'd hate him and hate herself. He didn't want Addy McConnell's hate.

Releasing her mouth, he ran his hands up and down her arms. "We've got to stop, Red, or we won't be able to."

"Nick, I … please—"

He caressed her cheek with the tip of his finger. "I wanted you to see what a beautiful woman you are. Don't ever doubt that you're desirable. I want you, but I can't take you now when you're so vulnerable." The sad, puzzled look in her eyes told him that she was hurting, and it was his fault. Dammit all, the last thing on earth he wanted to do was cause this woman any more pain than she'd already suffered. "Do you understand what I'm saying and why?"

She stepped away from him, deliberately avoiding any eye contact with the mirror. "You're good, Nick Romero, damned good. A Latin lover and a Southern gentleman all rolled into one. A deadly combination. No wonder women can't resist you."

"Addy—"

She held up a hand to warn him off, then backed away slowly. "From now on, don't try to teach me anything else about myself, okay? Just do your job as my bodyguard and keep me safe. I—I'm not ready for a man as lethal as you … and I'm not sure I ever will be."

He watched her walk up the stairs. Her shoulders were erect, her head held high. He had no idea what was going on inside her, but he knew one thing for sure. Addy McConnell would never forget how beautiful and desirable she'd looked tonight. Unfortunately, neither would he.

Chapter 5

« ^ »

Nick wondered if Addy felt as if she were inside an armed camp. M.A.C. already had its own security force, but Rusty McConnell had ordered some highly trained professionals from Sam Dundee. The four men and two women who'd flown in from Atlanta the day before were on the job that morning when Nick and Addy arrived at the M.A.C. day-care center. Giving credit to Sam Dundee's superb training, Nick admitted that the six extra workers were as unobtrusive as possible, seeming to fit in as if they were long-time employees. But Addy McConnell could do little more than breathe without constant surveillance. Nick felt a little redundant and had told Rusty so when the two had shared an eight o'clock cup of coffee in the executives' office building. Rusty's long-time secretary Ginger Kimbrew had served them. The luscious brunette hadn't tried to hide her interest in Nick, and any other time he might have accepted her unspoken invitation, but, right now, the only woman who interested Nick was in an adjacent building trying her best to avoid any direct contact with him. Besides, Nick figured that Rusty and Ginger shared more than a business relationship, one that she wasn't quite ready to dissolve despite Rusty's engagement.

After fending off Ginger's blatant advances, Nick convinced Rusty that the hours Addy spent at M.A.C. would be the best time for him to play detective, using D.B. McConnell's money and power and his own government contacts.

Nick had decided that he'd make spot-checks on Addy during the day. His brain told him that it was part of his job. His male libido told him that he wanted to be near the desirable woman he'd held in his arms Saturday night. His heart refused to take part in the discussion.

A florist delivery boy accidentally bumped into Nick when they both reached out at the same time to open the door leading to the M.A.C. day-care center.

"Sorry, sir," the youth said.

Nick held the door open for him. "No problem. Go ahead. It looks like you've got your hands full." The overpowering sweet aroma of roses filled Nick's nostrils as he gazed down at the huge floral arrangement the boy held.

"Yeah, some guy must have it bad, huh? Two dozen red roses on a Monday morning."

The room they entered was a beehive of activity. Children of various ages, sizes, sexes and races were engaged in supervised play and work, while one select group of what Nick judged to be three-year-olds were lining up for midmorning break. Janice Dixon handed out individual apple juice cartons while her helper gave each child a napkin and straw.

Nick saw Addy. Even though she only vaguely resembled the sexy woman from Saturday night, his body recognized the sensual beauty that lay behind the mask of baggy navy cotton slacks and oversized green T-shirt. He'd bet his silver Jag that underneath those nondescript casual clothes, Addy wore some skimpy pieces of lace and silk. Nick imagined her wearing emerald green bikini panties and matching bra, both the color of her incredible eyes.

Suddenly Nick noticed that Addy was deep in conversation with a slender dark-haired man in a three-piece business suit. Nick didn't like the way the man looked at Addy, as if he had some type of claim on her. And he hated the way Addy smiled and then laughed at something the guy said. She'd never smiled at him that way, and he realized that he wanted to hear her laugh—with him, and not another man. While Nick stood back watching and brooding, the delivery boy approached Addy. "I'm looking for Addy McConnell."

"I'm Addy McConnell."

The boy handed Addy the huge green vase of red roses. "These are for you, ma'am."

Addy accepted the floral gift. Nick noted the surprised look on her face. Obviously it wasn't her birthday or any other special occasion. She turned toward her office, motioning for her companion to follow. Nick took several tentative steps forward, stopping just outside her open office door.

She set the flowers on her desk, then removed the attached card. Her smile widened. Her green eyes brightened. Nick wanted to know who'd sent the flowers that gave Addy such pleasure.

He marched into her office. "Morning." He looked directly at Addy, then shifted his gaze first to the flowers and then to the man standing beside her. "Just checking in. If you have a few minutes, we need to talk."

"All right. Come on in, Nick, and have a seat." Addy sensed Nick's displeasure, but couldn't quite figure out what was bothering him. Did he feel as awkward about Saturday night as she did? Neither of them had spoken about the incident in front of the mirror. All day yesterday they had walked on eggshells around each other. "I'd like you to meet Jim Hester, a friend of mine who just happens to be one of M.A.C.'s top engineers. Jim, this is Nick Romero, the man Daddy's hired as my personal bodyguard."

What was it with her? Nick wondered. Did she have a thing for engineers, or just engineers who worked for her father? And who was this guy, really, in whom Addy had confided about the attempted kidnapping? "Hester." Nodding to the other man, Nick held out his hand.

Jim Hester shook hands with a firm, forceful grip that surprised Nick. The guy looked like a typical desk jockey with his pale complexion, thinning brown hair and slender build. "I'm certainly glad to know that Addy's in such good hands, Mr. Romero. She's a special lady and we wouldn't want anything to happen to her. Tiffany and I are both very fond of her."

"Tiffany?" Nick asked

"My daughter. She's one of the three-year-olds taking a juice break right now. So, if you two will excuse me, I'll go join her while y'all talk business." Jim headed for the door, then stopped and turned around. "You never did say who sent the roses."

Nick didn't realize that he was holding his breath until Addy read the name on the card. "Brett Windsor."

"What the hell is Windsor doing sending you flowers?" Nick's outburst seemed to have startled Jim and angered Addy, both of them turning to stare at him.

"Brett Windsor? I thought you'd convinced him months ago that you weren't interested," Jim said, smiling.

"I did, but Brett occasionally still sends me flowers." Addy glared at Nick. "Gentlemen do that sort of thing, you know. They treat you with respect and consideration. Things that Latin lovers obviously bypass on their way to seducing women into their beds."

Jim Hester cleared his throat. Addy's face flushed. Nick badly wanted to hit something.

"I'll stop back in and say goodbye before I return to work. If you two will excuse me, I'll see if Janice has an extra apple juice." Jim made his way out the door as quickly as possible.

Nick slammed closed the door to Addy's office. "So little Plain-Jane McConnell has two men in her life, huh?"

"It's not what you think." She didn't know why she was trying to explain to Nick about her relationships with Jim and Brett. Neither man loved her or desired her physically. One was only a friend and the other—

"Brett Windsor is good-looking and charming." Nick flung his arm out in a gesture of disgust as he pointed toward the roses. "He knows all the right things to say and do to impress a lady, but you know as well as I do that he's far more interested in Rusty's millions than he is in you."

"You don't think that I'm attractive enough to interest a man like Brett?" She threw out the challenge, daring Nick to reply. Smiling she leaned over and smelled the roses.

"Whether or not Windsor finds you attractive has nothing to do with this. The man is a user. He's been living off Dina for years." Propping his cane against the desk, Nick reached out, grabbing Addy by the shoulders. "Don't you realize that Brett Windsor is just as capable of a kidnapping scheme as your ex-husband? Encouraging him, for whatever reason, is a mistake."

"I have done nothing but discourage Brett. I'm not a total fool. Besides, I think you're overreacting because you're jealous of Brett's relationship with Dina."

"Dammit, Red, you say such stupid things! Dina is nothing more to me than a friend. I found out at an early age that she's poison to any man who cares about her." Nick pulled Addy close, so close that her breasts crushed into his chest. "Windsor is on my list of suspects. Stay away from him."

Addy twisted and turned in Nick's arm, trying to free herself. She hated the way he made her feel—all hot and damp and eager. "You're only my bodyguard. That doesn't give you the right to interfere in my personal life. The next thing I know you'll be telling me that Jim is on your list of suspects so I shouldn't see him anymore."

"Jim Hester isn't a suspect. Not yet." Nick lowered his head until his eyes met Addy's and his lips hovered over hers. "What's this Jim got that interests you so? He looks like a pretty ordinary guy. Is he divorced or widowed?"

Addy swallowed. She was hot. Nick was too close. She couldn't think. "Widowed. Why?"

"I just wondered … because of his daughter. She doesn't have a mother, then, does she?"

"No." Addy slipped her hands between her body and Nick's, giving him a shove. He held fast.

"I take it that you're very fond of Tiffany Hester."

"Stop questioning me like this. I don't like it." She struggled against him. "And I don't like your manhandling me whenever the notion strikes you. I may be your responsibility, but I'm not your personal property."

"That's a matter of opinion." Nick had never felt so possessive, so proprietary about a woman. He hated the thought that Addy might actually be interested in Brett Windsor or Jim Hester. Neither man was right for her. If either of them had been able to stir Addy's passions, she wouldn't turn into a smoldering flame every time he touched her. He, Nick Romero, was the right man to teach Addy what a sensuous woman she really was. No other man could do it. No other man would be allowed to even try. Hell, he was the only man who was ever going to touch her.

"When you interrupted Jim and me you said that you needed to talk to me, so say whatever you came here to say and leave. This place is crawling with security. I don't need you here and I certainly don't want you."

Nick glared at her, his black eyes boring into her. "How upset is Ginger Kimbrew that Rusty is marrying Dina?" Releasing Addy, Nick picked up his cane and stepped away, turning his back toward the wide expanse of windows that covered the back wall of Addy's femininely decorated office.

Addy sat down behind her white desk. "Ginger was Daddy's mistress for a number of years. She probably had high hopes of becoming the second Mrs. D.B. McConnell."

"How do the two of you get along?" Nick glanced around the room, taking note, for the first time, of the dainty lavender-flowered wallpaper, the matching gingham checked curtains at the windows and cushions on all the chairs. Ferns and green plants in various sizes filled every available space where sunlight could touch them.

"Ginger and I have never been close, but we've always been friendly. Why do you ask?"

Nick saw the realization dawn in Addy's eyes. "A woman scorned is capable of almost anything, right? What I'm wondering is if Ginger wants revenge against Rusty enough to plot the kidnapping of his only child."

"Oh, Lord, I'd never considered Ginger."

"Consider her. It won't pay to overlook any possible suspect and every conceivable motive."

"You don't think the motive is money?"

"I don't know. Hate and revenge are often as powerful as greed." Nick turned to her, wishing that he could give her the answers to all the questions he saw in her eyes. "Just don't trust anyone. Except your father and me."

"I hate living like this. I despise having to suddenly distrust people I know and like. But most of all I hate having you in charge of my life." Swinging around in her swivel rocker, Addy stared up at Nick. "Get out of here and leave me alone. Okay?"

He hated the pleading sound in her voice, knowing how difficult it had been for her to gain her independence and what a struggle it was for her to keep Rusty from controlling her life. "I'll check back in around lunchtime. Maybe we could go out for a bite."

"I'm sorry, but I'm having lunch with the children today."

"Then I'll join you and the romper room crowd. It's been years since I've eaten peanut butter and jelly sandwiches."

Addy's eyes widened. She hadn't expected him to invite himself to join her. "Fine. Be here at noon."

"You've got a date." Nick smiled all the way out of the office, not once turning around to see the expression on Addy's face.

Damned obstinate man. Overbearing. Bossy. Of all the men in the world, why was Nick Romero the one who'd come to her defense and rescued her from a kidnapping attempt? And why did her father like and trust him so much that he'd handed her over into Nick's safekeeping? And why, dear Lord, was he the first man since her divorce who made her think about risking her pride, her heart and her body?

Five minutes later, Addy looked up from her desk to find Jim Hester standing in the open doorway. She'd been so lost in her thoughts that she didn't know how long he'd been watching her.

"Come on in, Jim."

Closing the door behind him, Jim took a seat across from her desk. "Mr. Romero is a very interesting man."

"I imagine most people find him interesting." Addy wasn't quite sure where this conversation was going.

"Women in particular, I guess," Jim said.

"I understand he has a reputation. Why are you so interested in Nick?"

"Because you're so interested."

"I am not… I— Is it that obvious?" Addy couldn't deny her feelings, not to Jim. He was too good a friend, too dear and kind a man.

"I had hoped that someday you and I— Well, Tiffany and I are both terribly fond of you and—"

"There's nothing going on between Nick and me. Daddy's hired him as my bodyguard until this kidnapping threat is over. I'm not Nick's type. He isn't interested in a permanent relationship and I can't handle a temporary affair."

"Then you'd better watch out, Addy. That man wants you. And I'd say he's used to getting what he wants. I'd hate to see you get hurt." Jim stood, then walked over to Addy's side, placing his arm around her shoulders. "I admit that I'd rather not be on the receiving end of Nick Romero's wrath, but if you want to try to use me as a buffer, I'll take my chances."

Addy laughed, thankful that Jim understood her so well. If only she'd fallen in love with him instead of the idea of being a mother to his child. "Thanks. I—I don't think you'll be in any danger. I doubt if Nick would actually fight over me." Then she remembered Friday night when he'd come to her defense against Gerald at her father's engagement party.

"Don't sell yourself short, Addy. The way that man was acting today, I'd say he'd do more than fight for you. I think he'd kill for you."

"That's what Daddy's hired him to do, if it's necessary. But that's his job. It isn't personal."

"Don't kid yourself. It's definitely personal with Mr. Romero."

Janice Dixon rushed into Addy's office. "Sorry to interrupt, but Brittany McKinney has thrown up all over the bathroom and won't let anyone touch her. She's crying for her mother."

"Go take care of Brittany," Jim said. "I'll see you tomorrow when I stop by for juice with Tiffany."

"Call Brittany's mother," Addy said. "She works in the secretarial pool. I'll walk Jim out and go see if I can calm Brittany down until her mother gets here."

"Looks a bit out of place, doesn't he?" Janice whispered to Addy while the two women watched Nick Romero, who was sitting between a couple of three-year-old girls.

Addy's gaze moved over the big man whose very size dwarfed the small stool on which he sat. He had removed his jacket before sitting down to share vegetable soup and grilled cheese sandwiches with the children.

"He doesn't seem too uncomfortable, but then he has the awed attention of two females." Addy laughed, amazed that Nick could charm even preschoolers. His easy camaraderie with the children had surprised her, considering his background. She couldn't help but wonder if he'd ever thought of becoming a father. For one unguarded moment the thought of giving Nick a little girl of his own flashed through Addy's mind.

"He's looking this way," Janice said. "What's going on between you two?"

Addy fixed her gaze on Nick, then smiled and waved at him from her position at the table opposite his. "He's teaching me how to play games."

"What?" Janice choked on her iced tea.

Raising her voice, Addy called out, "Are you enjoying your lunch, Mr. Romero?"

"The food's not bad," he said. "And the company is—entertaining." He looked around the table where children of various sizes and sexes were munching on their sandwiches, slurping their soup and loudly sipping their milk.

"If you'd care to stay for nap time, I'll let you read them a story." Addy couldn't help noticing how totally at ease Nick seemed, crouched there in the middle of so many toddlers. Many men, especially hard-edged military types, would have been nervous, even wary, around small children.

A little brown-eyed girl sitting beside Nick looked at him and smiled. When he smiled back, she held up her unopened milk carton.

"I can't get it open," she said, handing the milk to Nick.

He took the carton, pulled apart the spout and returned the open container. "Here you go."

Just as the little girl's fingers tightened around the carton, the boy sitting next to her lost his balance on his stool and fell over on her. The milk sloshed out of the open container and splattered across Nick Romero's pale blue shirt.

Stunned, Addy watched the milk soak into Nick's clothing. She jumped up, rushing over to where the little girl sat crying.

"It's all right," Nick tried to assure the child. "It's just milk. It'll wash out."

"I didn't mean to do it," the child wailed when Addy crouched down beside her. "It was Barry's fault!"

"Stop crying, honey. Mr. Romero isn't angry." Addy motioned for one of her assistants, a heavyset, matronly lady, to take charge of the children at the table.

As soon as the assistant had lined up the three-year-olds and ushered them into another room for nap time, Addy turned to Nick. "You'd better come into my office and get out of that wet shirt. Lucky for you we have a washer and dryer, so we can clean you up in a few minutes."

"I take it by your calm manner that accidents like this are a daily occurrence." Nick grinned when she gave him a you've-got-to-be-kidding look.

"Accidents like this are an hourly occurrence, sometimes more often than that. We're dealing with preschoolers here."

Nick followed Addy into her small, cheerful office. She closed the door and turned to him. "Take off your shirt." She held out her hand.

He looked at her outstretched hand, then up into her sparkling green eyes. "Just what I like, a forceful woman."

Letting her hand drop to her side, Addy willed herself not to blush. "Nick…"

He began unbuttoning his shirt, very slowly. Addy steeled herself against her body's reaction. She refused to look away shyly. Nick would know for sure that the sight of his naked chest excited her.

"I'm afraid I don't have anything large enough for you to put on while we're washing and drying your shirt. I could send someone over to Daddy's office for one of his shirts." Addy tried to concentrate on Nick's face, focusing her attention on the glittering diamond stud in his ear. But when he pushed his shirt apart and tugged it out from beneath his belted slacks, her gaze traveled downward to the wide expanse of darkly tanned, thickly muscled chest.

"I'll be fine. It's warm in here." Removing his shirt, he handed it to her.

She grabbed the shirt quickly, but couldn't keep herself from staring at his chest. He was magnificent. Big. Manly. A thick matting of black hair covered his chest from nipple to nipple, a thin dark line trailing down to his navel and beyond. Addy didn't think she'd ever seen anything quite so sexy.

"Sit down. I'll put this in to wash and be right back." She opened the door, grateful for the excuse to escape.

"Addy?"

She stopped, but didn't turn around. "Yes?"

"I don't suppose you've got a cup of coffee in this place, do you?" He sat down on the lavender gingham cushion padding her chair.

"I—I'll bring you some."

"Thanks."

Leaning back in the wooden swivel desk chair, Nick slipped his hands into his pants pockets. He hadn't been blind to Addy's reaction when he'd removed his shirt. He liked the idea that just looking at him had turned her on. Sex was always better when both parties were equally aroused, and despite what Addy thought of herself Nick had no doubts that she would be one of the hottest women he'd ever bedded.

"What do you mean you don't have it?" a loud masculine voice demanded.

Nick sat up straight, listening. He glanced at the slightly ajar door that led to the small hallway separating Addy's office from the main playroom. He eased himself out of the chair. Leaving his cane against the wall, Nick clung to the side of the desk as he made his way closer to the door.

"I mean I don't have it!" Janice Dixon hissed. "How could I ask Addy for another loan right now when she and Uncle Rusty are half out of their minds worrying about the kidnapping? It would look rather strange, don't you think?"

"Maybe you're right, but we've got to figure out something. I've got to have that two thousand soon or I could wind up as dead as Addy's kidnapper."

"Ron, I'm scared. What if the police question you, and they just might, considering your background?"

Nick hobbled away from the desk, grabbing a chair near the door to steady himself. Peeking through the narrow opening, he saw the back of Janice Dixon's ripe little body. Ron Glover, tall and dark, faced her.

"They've got nothing on me, sugar. I was nowhere near Addy McConnell Friday night until long after the kidnapping, and nobody can trace me to the guy who fell off Monsano Mountain." Ron reached out, circling Janice's neck with his hand, pulling her closer. "See what you can do about getting me the money."

"Shhh! Don't talk so loud. Nick Romero is in Addy's office." Placing her fingertips over Ron's mouth, Janice nodded.

"What? Why the hell didn't you tell me?" Ron's voice lowered to a whisper. "That guy's bad news, Jannie!"

"He can't hurt you, Ron."

"That's right, sugar. No two-bit, crippled, ex-DEA agent is a match for me." He lowered his head, taking Janice's eager mouth.

Just as Ron kissed Janice, Addy rounded the corner, a mug of steaming black coffee in her hand. The minute Nick saw her, he hobbled back across her office and sat down behind her desk.

"Hello, Addy," Ron said. "Hope you don't mind me stopping by to see my girl."

"Janice's personal life is her own business," Addy said, then walked past the couple, pushed open the door and went into her office.

Addy set the coffee mug down on her desk in front of Nick. "There's sweetener and creamer inside the top drawer on the left."

"I take it black, remember?"

"I didn't remember. Why should I?"

"No reason." He smiled. "Thanks anyway."

Sitting down in the maple Boston rocker a few feet from her desk, near the corner by the windows, Addy began rocking back and forth. "As soon as your shirt is ready, you can leave and get back to playing detective."

"I've been playing detective right here in your office."

"Oh? How's that?"

"By eavesdropping." He picked up the mug she'd set before him.

"On Ron and Janice, no doubt."

"They were having a very interesting conversation about money." Nick put the mug to his lips, sipping the dark rich coffee.

"It's no secret that Janice supports Ron, and I know that several loans I've given her have been for him." Addy stopped rocking. "I've tried to make her see what a sleaze-ball he is, but she refuses to listen to reason. She's crazy about him."

"Yeah, well, love can make people do strange things."

"Are you an expert on love?"

"Hardly, but I've been around enough to know that people who think they're in love can do some pretty stupid things. Take your cousin Janice. If she's that hung up on Glover, she might be persuaded to do anything he asks of her."

"Like helping him plot my kidnapping. Is that what you're saying?"

"Like I told you earlier today, Red, don't trust anyone except your father and me." Nick hated throwing suspicion on Addy's cousin. It was obvious the two women were genuinely found of each other. But if Ron Glover did have Janice completely under his control, she could be dangerous to Addy.

"I can't believe—" The jarring ring of the telephone cut off the rest of Addy's comment.

Nick glanced at the white phone sitting atop the desk. "Want me to answer it?"

Addy jumped up, quickly making her way to the phone. "Hello, M.A.C. Day Care. Addy McConnell speaking. May I help you?"

A muffled masculine voice said, "If you know what's good for you, you'll tell your daddy to follow my instructions."

The color drained from Addy's cheeks and her eyes widened. "What did you say? Who is this?"

"What's wrong?" Nick asked.

"Unless I get what I want, accidents could start happening," the voice said.

"Accidents? What sort of accidents?" Addy's fingers tightened around the receiver.

Standing, Nick retrieved his cane and walked around the desk to stand beside Addy. "Give me the phone."

"It would be terrible if something happened to you. You can't be protected from everything. What if a bomb were planted at the day care? Not only would you get blown into a zillion pieces, but so would all those little kiddies. Tell your daddy that I'll be in touch soon." The sinister voice on the phone snickered several times before hanging up.

Addy trembled, her heartbeat accelerating. When she tried to replace the receiver, her hand shook so badly she almost dropped the telephone. Nick grabbed her by the shoulder, turning her to face him. He could tell by the glazed look in her eyes and the deadly pallor of her normally golden complexion that the caller's message had frightened her badly.

"Come on, Red, tell me what that was all about."

She stared at him, and for one split second she wanted to scream. "It—it was a man." Addy looked into Nick's black eyes, eyes filled with genuine concern. "His voice was muffled … like he was talking through cloth or something."

Nick tightened his hold on her shoulder. "What did he say?"

"He warned me that, if Daddy doesn't follow his instructions, he'll get to me somehow, even if— Oh, Nick, he said that something could happen here at the day-care center … that a bomb could explode, that—" Addy choked back tears and blinked several times in an effort not to cry, but the thought of anything happening to her precious children played havoc with her emotions.

"My God!" Nick pulled her into his arms, stroking her back with one hand. Resting his cane against the desk, he cradled her head with the palm of his other hand. "If this was no idle threat, then we're dealing with a madman."

Addy snuggled against Nick, knowing she was safe. The warm masculinity of his hairy chest sent a current of desire spiraling through her. She laid her head on his naked shoulder. She couldn't explain her reaction to this man. He was practically a stranger, a man who made no secret of the fact that he was a ladies' man, and yet she trusted him. Held within the comforting security of his strong arms, she realized that Nick Romero would indeed protect her at all costs.

He was her paladin.

"Oh, Nick." She swallowed the tears, refusing to give in to the overwhelming urge to cry. "The voice said that he'd be in touch with Daddy and give him his instructions!"

"Whatever's going on here is more complicated than any of us thought." He grabbed Addy's chin in one big hand and tilted it upward, forcing her to face him directly. "I swear that we'll catch this man, whoever he is."

Tears caught in her throat making it impossible for her to reply immediately. She simply stared at Nick, trying to convey what she felt in the expression on her face. Her eyes, moist with unshed tears, softened with tenderness, and she forced a weak smile.

"Trust me to take care of you, Red." Nothing had ever been so important to him. He wanted her trust. He wanted to make her feel safe and protected.

"I trust you, Nick. With my life if not with my heart." She reached up, placing her hand on his cheek.

He covered her hand with his own, brought it to his lips and kissed her palm. "I don't want to break your heart, Addy, but I'm beginning to think that you just might break mine."

She clung to him unashamedly, absorbing his strength, his raw masculine power. "Oh, Nick, what are we going to do?"

It hurt him deeply to see her like this, so vulnerable and unsure. With a possessiveness he knew only with this woman, he lowered his lips to hers. "I won't let anyone hurt you. No matter what I have to do, I'll protect you." He covered her mouth with his, sealing his promise with a kiss that claimed ownership.

Chapter 6

« ^ »

Addy slipped the navy blue dress over her head. Zipping it quickly, she turned face her image in the cheval mirror. She looked … presentable. Not strikingly beautiful, not sexy and desirable, but neat and well-groomed. So what difference does it make? she asked herself. Over the past seven years since her divorce, she'd learned to appreciate her ordinary appearance—her plain face and thin body. But in the five days since she'd known Nick Romero, he had undermined her contentment, making her long for the kind of beauty men appreciated.

Sitting down on the edge of her pencil-post bed, Addy picked up her sedate navy pumps off the Oriental carpet and slid her feet into them. She stretched one of her long legs out in front of her, scrutinizing the shape and length. Her legs weren't bad; they just might be her best feature. Dammit! Stop doing this to yourself. She hadn't felt so insecure about her looks since she'd been married to Gerald, who'd taken every available opportunity to remind her of how inadequate she was. But Nick had never once implied that he found her less than attractive. Indeed, his every word, his every action, had suggested the opposite.

Last Saturday night, when they'd known each other for only twenty-four hours, Nick had held her in front of the foyer mirror and practically made love to her, forcing her to face herself, to see herself as an aroused and sensuous woman. She had tried all week to erase that memory from her mind, but she couldn't forget how she'd felt or the way she'd looked. She had been beautiful in those moments of passion. Nick's praise and adoration had made her beautiful.

But Nick Romero was a temporary fixture in her life, a man who, once the kidnapping threat ended, would leave her life as quickly as he had entered it. No matter how he made her feel, she couldn't risk letting him break her heart. He'd made it perfectly clear that he wasn't averse to having an affair with her, and she'd made it equally clear that she wasn't interested. She could handle friendships with men; however, a sexual relationship was taboo unless the man in question could prove his love for her. Only a man who loved her would be patient and understanding, helping her overcome her deficiencies as a woman. Only a man who truly loved her wouldn't give a damn about her daddy's millions.

Addy glanced at the colorful flowered scarf lying on her dressing table. She'd bought the scarf in a moment of weakness, thinking it would brighten up some of her drab outfits. But she'd never worn it. It was too flashy.

Picking up her delicate gold watch out of her small jewelry case, Addy focused on the row of violets sitting atop the pine chest of drawers. She smiled, remembering how for the past three days the florist delivery boy had brought her a large container of violets, each with a small lavender and white ribbon. No card had been included, but she knew who'd sent them. Each day she'd brought the violets home with her, and Nick hadn't said a word. But she knew they were from him. Laughing, Addy fingered the velvety softness of one tiny leaf. No wonder Nick was so popular with the ladies. He was a romantic. Most men sent red roses. Roses were pretty standard, but only a man who really understood women would take the time to choose a flower that matched a woman's personality. She supposed Nick saw her as a shrinking violet. Or was there another meaning behind the flower he'd chosen for her?

She heard the rap of Nick's cane as he walked down the hallway from his bedroom to hers. Without giving any more thought to the matter, Addy grabbed the large, colorful scarf and draped it across her right shoulder.

Nick stopped in the open doorway, surveying Addy from head to toe. Damn, he wished her outer garments were half as sexy as her lingerie. At least the scarf added a touch of color to the plain navy dress. He wondered what had prompted her to act so impulsively. In the five days he'd known her, not once had Addy worn anything stylish, colorful or alluring—except her lingerie. He hadn't seen her sleeping attire every night, but on the nights that he had, she'd worn frothy concoctions that took his breath away.

"It's almost seven-thirty." He stepped just inside her open doorway. "Time to leave."

Smiling, Addy turned to face Nick. "Try to be cordial to Jim if you see him today, and at least be civil to Ron when he picks up Janice."

"I'm having a more complete check done on Glover. From what my contacts have already found out, he's more than capable of plotting your kidnapping, and he's just the type to use threats."

"Do you think he's capable of murder? After all, the person behind my kidnapping has already killed once." Addy walked over to Nick and the two stepped outside into the hallway. "If I thought Janice was in danger—I mean, if Ron is really—"

Nick put his arm around Addy's waist, giving her a reassuring hug. He couldn't tell her that there was a possibility that Janice, so enamored of a hood like Glover, was actually his accomplice. Of course, both Ron and Janice could also be completely innocent. "I don't think Janice is in any danger, whether or not Glover is the kidnapper. He'd have no reason to harm her."

Together they descended the stairs, Addy slowing her stride to accommodate Nick's limp. His big hand stayed on her waist, warm and reassuring. She liked it when Nick touched her, even casually, and he'd touched her often in the last few days, despite her coolness toward him. There had been no more kisses, and Addy knew she should be grateful. Nick's kisses were lethal.

He escorted her outside to his Jag, opening the door and helping her into the seat. Before starting the car, he turned to her. "You look lovely."

Swallowing hard, Addy stared directly at Nick, wishing her heart would stop beating so rapidly. "It's the shawl. It adds color to—"

"It's not the damned shawl." Nick revved the motor, his big hands clutching the steering wheel. "It's you, Addy. You're lovely."

"Tha—thank you." Nick wasn't the first man who'd given her compliments, and, unfortunately, he wasn't the first one she'd believed. Did she dare trust Nick Romero? Did she dare listen to her heart?

"You've got three men chasing you." Nick backed the silver sports car out of the driveway. "How the hell can you consider yourself unattractive and undesirable?"

Addy sat up straight, looking away from Nick's lean, hard face. Glancing out the window at the stately old homes and towering green trees as they drove past Jefferson Street, she remained silent, unsure how to answer Nick's question.

Nick chose the route leading through downtown. He didn't like Addy's silence any more than he liked the way she'd turned all moody and distant the last few days. He'd done everything he could to reassure her, but the waiting—the endless waiting—for word from the threatening phone caller had played havoc with her nerves. It hadn't helped any that Rusty McConnell had been growling like a papa lion, frightened for the safety of his only cub. Nick knew that Addy worried more about her father than she did about herself.

But Nick worried about Addy. In less than a week's time, she had become important to him. Far too important.

Within ten minutes they turned into Research Park. Grassy green fields and majestic, tall trees lined the streets of the park, each street named after a space shuttle—Columbia, Discovery, Endeavor. Nick pulled the Jag into Addy's private space in the M.A.C. day-care center parking lot.

When she clasped the door handle, Nick reached across the console, taking her hand. "He's bound to contact Rusty soon. Then we'll know what we're dealing with and how to handle the situation."

Looking down at Nick's big hand grasping hers, she sighed. "I hope you're right. I don't know how much longer Daddy's going to be able to endure the waiting."

Nick squeezed her hand. "Your father's tough, Red. He can stand a lot more than you think he can."

"It's not fair for him to have to go through this again—living in fear of losing a child to a kidnapper."

"That's not going to happen. I won't let it."

Turning her head slightly, Addy glanced at Nick. A shiver of something akin to excitement raced through her. How had she allowed herself to become so dependent on this man? And why did his protectiveness make her feel safe and yet vulnerable all at the same time?

Nick met Addy in the hallway leading to her father's office. Rusty had summoned them both on an urgent matter. Addy's face was flushed, her eyes overly bright. Nick could see the way her hands nervously clutched her leather purse. Only someone who knew her well, someone who'd spent endless hours with her, could tell that Addy was upset. Although their acquaintance was less than a week old, Nick had come to know Addy in a way he'd never known another woman. Except Dina. The truth of the matter was that he'd never spent as much time with another woman. Day and night. Sharing meals with her, sleeping in the room next to hers, listening to her talk and laugh and argue, and catching glimpses of her elegantly slender body covered by nothing more than her sexy lingerie.

Addy McConnell, taken in small doses, could be dismissed as nothing more than a skinny redhead. Nick understood why so many men had overlooked the real value that lay hidden behind her Plain-Jane facade, and had taken an interest in Addy solely because of Rusty's money. But Nick had learned, to his own detriment, that Addy McConnell, taken in large doses, could prove fatal to a confirmed bachelor who'd always prided himself on being a love 'em and leave 'em ladies' man.

He couldn't remember ever wanting a woman so badly—not even when he'd been seventeen and thought he'd die from wanting his brother's wife. At forty-three, he'd known his share of women, and could easily have his pick of dozens of beauties. So, why didn't the idea of bedding some bosomy blonde appeal to him?

"Ginger wouldn't tell me anything," Addy said, her long legs slowing their pace to keep step with Nick's slower, halting gait. "Did she tell you why Daddy wanted to see us?"

"No. She just said to get to Rusty's office pronto, that it was urgent." Reaching out, Nick pulled one of Addy's trembling hands away from the purse she clutched at her waist. "Whatever it is, we'll take care of it. Rusty, you and me. The three of us together."

Addy halted her steps, stopping to stare at Nick. "You mean that, don't you? You actually think I'm capable of being part of the solution."

Nick paused, then squeezed her hand. "You're a smart lady, and from what I've seen, you're pretty tough. You're the one whose life is in danger, so it stands to reason that you'll want to cooperate with the two men who'd die trying to protect you."

"Nick … I—" She'd never known a man like Nick Romero. He overwhelmed her by almost everything he said and did. And he constantly surprised her. Did he, she wondered, realize how possessive he sounded, how much like a man in love? Dear Lord, she couldn't allow herself to indulge in that particular fantasy.

"Come on, Addy, your father's waiting." He tugged on her hand. She gave him a half-hearted smile and started walking again.

The receptionist stood up when they walked past, watching them enter Ginger's office. She wasn't at her desk, but stood in the open doorway to Rusty's office.

"He's on the phone with the police." Ushering them inside, Ginger closed the door. "Can I get either of you something to drink?"

"No, thanks," Nick said.

Addy simply nodded.

Rusty slammed down the telephone, the crashing sound reverberating around the room. He turned his dark green gaze on Nick. "From now on, I want you so close to her that she can't breathe without you hearing her." He glared at Addy. "And if it takes handcuffing you to him, then I'll see to it. Understand me, little girl?"

Addy rushed to her father, putting her arms around him. He crushed her in his arms, almost pressing the breath out of her. She knew that something terrible had happened. Rusty's ruddy face was flushed crimson, his thick lips drawn in a fine line of pain, and his big, meaty hands shook with the force of his rage.

"What is it, Daddy? What's happened? Has he called?"

With one big arm still draped around Addy, Rusty leaned down, picked up a sheet of paper off his desk and handed it to Nick. Nick took the paper, reading it silently, then looked at Rusty holding his only child protectively in his arms. Dammit, he wouldn't want to be in Rusty's shoes. But, in a way, he was. Addy wasn't his beloved child, but she was going to be his woman and her safety was as important to him as it was to her father.

"What's this?" Addy asked, reaching out for the paper Nick held in his hand.

Nick released the paper, allowing her to take it. Rusty kept his supportive arm around her. She scanned the letter, similar to the one her father had received almost a week ago, the morning after the failed kidnapping attempt.

"Oh my God!" The letter fell from Addy's fingers and floated to the carpeted floor. "Now we know what the kidnapper wants."

"If M.A.C. doesn't withdraw its bids on the NASP contract, then Addy's life is in danger," Rusty said. "That contract is worth millions. Hundreds of jobs that are threatened because of the economy can be saved."

"The kidnapper isn't some madman who wants a ransom, is he?" Addy's mind rioted with a dozen different thoughts, finally calming to focus on one possibility. "Gerald! It's Gerald, isn't it? If M.A.C. doesn't bid on the NASP contract, then New Age Aerospace has a good chance of becoming a NASP contractor, and not only would that add greatly to Gerald's standing with his father-in-law, but it would be the perfect revenge on us, wouldn't it?" Looking up at her father, she knew that he'd come to the same conclusion.

"New Age Aerospace isn't our only competitor," Rusty said. "We can't rule out someone at one of the other companies."

"Rusty's right," Nick said. "Just because Gerald Carlton has a personal reason to want to see M.A.C. lose the contract doesn't mean he's the only suspect."

"You can't agree to this." Addy pulled away from her father. "We have to make a bid on the NASP contract. There's too much money and too many jobs at stake to buckle under to this threat."

"Baby girl, we're talking about your life." Tears clouded Rusty's vision as he took his daughter's slender hands into his enormous grasp. "Nothing is more important to me than you."

"Oh, Daddy, I know that." Addy wanted to comfort her father, but she was incapable of easing his fears. "There's no way anyone can get to me with all the protection I have." She focused her attention on the big, dark man whose very presence in the room made her feel safe. "My God, how do you think anyone could get through Nick?"

"We have to consider all our options," Nick said, his heart thumping at a deafening roar. Addy trusted him! Really trusted him. "First, tell me about this NASP contract."

"NASP is the National Aero-Space Plane, the X-30. It's one of the boldest concepts that the Air Force and NASA have ever conceived," Ginger Kimbrew said, making her presence known for the first time since Addy and Nick had entered Rusty's office.

Nick turned to Ginger, understanding how intricately involved she was in every aspect of the McConnell Aerospace Company. "I'll contact Sam and have him check out all the competition, all the possible contractors who'll be bidding."

"The five prime contractors that comprise the NASP National Program Office are based near Air Force Plant No.42 in Palmdale, California." Rusty helped Addy into his huge leather chair, then sat on the edge of his desk. "There's no need to run a check on those guys. Their part in NASP is a done deal. But the big boys are ready to let Huntsville in on the deal, and M.A.C. wants to be part of the team."

"This is a visionary aircraft," Ginger explained. "It would enable the U.S. to have routine access to space from a runway. Access embodied in the X-30."

"Propulsion is NASP's biggest worry. That's where M.A.C. comes in. Our engineers are primed and ready for this project." Rusty's excitement danced in his eyes, vibrated in his deep, strong voice.

"You understand why Daddy can't give in to this threat, don't you?" Addy asked Nick.

"There's one possibility that we're all overlooking," Nick bent over and picked up the threatening letter, then laid it on Rusty's desk. "What if the NASP contract isn't the real motive? What if someone is using it as a red herring?"

"What are you saying?" Addy scooted to the edge of her father's chair.

"It never pays to jump to conclusions." Tapping his finger on the letter, Nick glanced from Addy to Rusty. "This letter would have us believe that the person behind Addy's kidnap attempt doesn't want several million in ransom money, but does want Rusty to lose millions on an important government contract. Reputable competitors don't deal this way. They have families of their own."

"Carlton is too hot-headed and bent on revenge to consider anything but getting what he wants." Rusty struck his desk with his closed fist. "So help me, if he's behind this, I'll—"

"Rusty, calm down." Ginger rushed forward, reaching out pleadingly. "This isn't doing your blood pressure or heart any good."

"She's right, Daddy. If Gerald is behind this, he'd like nothing better than to see you drop dead from a heart attack."

The outer office door swung open. Dina Lunden and Brett Windsor swept into Rusty's private domain, the haggard receptionist following them, screeching that they couldn't interrupt Mr. McConnell, who'd given strict instructions not to be disturbed.

"What's this about you dropping dead from a heart attack?" Dina asked, making her way directly to Rusty. Dina eyed Ginger, who had her hand on her boss's arm. Releasing Rusty, Ginger stepped aside.

"Nothing for you to worry about, honey." Rusty jerked Dina up against him. She buried her face in his chest.

"But I do worry about you, darling. Especially now that Addy's in such danger." Purring like a kitten, Dina rubbed her head against Rusty as she slipped her arm around his waist. "Has something else happened?"

"Is there some reason you and Windsor came by today?" Nick asked, barely giving Dina a glance as he concentrated all his attention on Brett Windsor.

"I'm meeting Rusty for lunch. It's almost noon." Dina took a quick look at her diamond-studded wristwatch. She ran her hand up Rusty's chest, caressing him. "What's wrong, darling? Tell me."

"We received another threatening letter," Rusty said.

Nick groaned. Why couldn't Rusty keep his mouth shut? He was a smart man, but damned stupid when it came to Dina. He shouldn't trust her so completely, and he sure as hell shouldn't trust Windsor. "The police have already been informed, and we're calling in the FBI."

"The FBI?" Dina's big blue eyes darted a startled expression from Rusty to Nick.

"I'll fill you in on all the details at lunch," Rusty said, stroking Dina's back. "Ginger, you take Dina and Brett here on into your office and get them some coffee or tea or something until Nick and I finish making a few phone calls."

"Oh, Rusty," Dina whined.

"Now, now, honey, go on."

"Are we going to be awfully late for lunch? Our reservations are for twelve-thirty." Dina pulled away from Rusty, a pouty look on her beautiful face.

"Ginger, call and have our reservations changed to one o'clock." Rusty glanced over at Brett. "Entertain your stepmother until I'm free."

"Of course." Brett came forward, taking Dina's arm and leading her toward the door.

Addy watched the way Nick stared at Dina, as if he found her disgustingly fascinating. A hot surge of jealousy ripped through Addy. Dina looked so feminine in her chic little summer suit. The beige silk draped and caressed her body as if it loved to be next to such voluptuousness. Suddenly, Addy felt like a frump in her navy dress, despite the colorful scarf draped across her shoulder.

Watching Dina and Brett make their exit, Nick thought what a perfect pair they made. Except for the twelve-year difference in their ages, they suited each other to a tee. Both were blond and beautiful, flawless in appearance but sickeningly self-centered and selfish. It was a pity they'd gone through old man Windsor's fortune so quickly. The only thing lacking in their relationship was money, which both of them seemed to value above anything else.

Brett halted just as he ushered Dina into Ginger's office. He turned, flashing his brilliant, toothy smile at Addy. "Why don't we join Dina and Rusty for lunch? Ginger could make the reservations for four."

"I … I don't know." Addy didn't want to go to lunch with her father and Dina. She wanted to go back to the day-care center and share a meal with Nick, who always showed up just in time for lunch each day. She glanced at Nick, wishing he would say something that could prevent their having to join the others.

Nick didn't say or do anything. He didn't even look at her.

"She'll go. It'll be good for her to get out." Rusty glanced at Nick. "Make the reservations for five, and have a couple of Dundee's boys tag along behind us."

"I need to take care of some things at the center before we go to lunch," Addy said. "Give me a buzz when y'all are ready to go."

Addy walked through Ginger's office. Her father's secretary was on the phone changing Rusty's lunch reservations, and Brett was pouring himself a cup of coffee from the machine on a nearby table. Dina reached out, grasping Addy by the wrist as she passed her.

"We need to talk."

"About what?" Addy asked, glancing down at Dina's long, sharp nails. She jerked her wrist free.

Dina looked over at Ginger, then at Brett. "Why don't we go on into the receptionist's office? I'll send her on an errand and we can have a little privacy."

Addy didn't want to talk to Dina about anything, and she certainly had no desire to be alone with her. She didn't like Dina. And she didn't trust her.

"I'm in a hurry, Dina. If Nick and I are going out to lunch with you and Brett and Daddy, I have to get back to the center and handle some problems there."

When Addy walked away, out into the reception area, Dina followed. "I need to talk to you about Nick."

Addy slowed but didn't stop. Dina Lunden was the last person on earth with whom she wanted to discuss Nick. "I don't have time."

"Ms. Harkin, go find me some aspirin. I feel a terrible headache coming on," Dina told the receptionist.

"I have some aspirin in my desk." Ms. Harkin opened the center desk drawer and reached inside.

"Don't be obtuse, Ms. Harkin. Find somewhere to go for a few minutes and leave Ms. McConnell and me alone."

"I—I don't know if I should, Mrs. Lunden. I mean…" The young woman floundered in an attempted explanation.

"It's all right, Joyce," Addy said. "Go ahead and take an early lunch."

The moment Joyce Harkin left, Dina turned to Addy. "I want you to ask Rusty to replace Nick with another bodyguard."

"What?"

"You may feel extremely flattered by Nick's attentions, but I can assure you that, in the long run, he'll only wind up hurting you." Dina's cool gaze traveled over Addy's slender body with the scrutiny of a trained spy seeking to discover any hidden detail. "You can't possibly believe that you could capture and hold a man like Nick Romero."

Addy felt the sting of Dina's words as if they'd been a physical slap. She didn't need the other woman to remind her of how totally inadequate she was. "My relationship with Nick is none of your business."

"But of course it is. After all, I'm practically your stepmother." Dina moved to Addy's side, a false show of concern on her face. "I love you because you're Rusty's child, and I like you, too. You're such a nice person, Addy. Really too nice for a bad boy like Nick."

"If you're so concerned about Nick acting as my bodyguard, why haven't you said something to Daddy yourself?"

"I have, but he simply won't listen to me." Dina sighed dramatically. "Men are such stubborn creatures, aren't they? Your father has this mistaken notion that Nick would make the perfect husband for you."

Addy couldn't stop the bubble of laughter in her throat from erupting. "I can't picture Nick as anyone's husband."

"Certainly not. Nick's too much of a free spirit." Dina seemed to relax, placing her hand on Addy's arm. "I should have known you would be sensible about this. After all, you're too smart to allow yourself to be used again."

"Yes, I am," Addy agreed. "But Nick isn't the sort of man who'd use me. I've learned that much about him. He's nothing like Gerald, and I honestly believe money doesn't mean anything to him."

"Nick isn't interested in Rusty's money the way your former husband was, that's true enough." Dina tugged on Addy's arm. "Why don't we sit down and I'll tell you some things you need to know about Nick so you'll understand my concern."

Addy stared at Dina, trying to figure out what the woman's real motive was. Could she actually be concerned, or was she jealous? "I don't need to sit down. Just tell me what you think I need to know."

"Very well." Dina's words escaped in an aggravated huff. "Nick sees you as a challenge, I'm quite certain of that. Women usually succumb to his good looks and charm quite readily, but since you haven't, he'll use whatever means necessary to seduce you. His rather substantial male ego is involved. Women don't say no to Nick."

"What makes you think he hasn't already seduced me?" Addy didn't like the smug look on Dina's face.

"He hasn't. I'd know if you and Nick were lovers. I've known Nick since he was fifteen. The two of us have no secrets."

Pulling away from Dina, Addy said, "Nick told me that you and he play a game where you try to seduce him and he resists." Addy watched for any change of expression on Dina's face or in her eyes. She saw only the slight flickering of Dina's long, dark eyelashes. "Are you sure the real reason you want Nick replaced as my bodyguard is because you're worried about me?"

"What other reason could there be?"

"Perhaps you're afraid that I might mean more to Nick than a conquest, that his feelings run deep enough to consider making a commitment to me."

The reaction Addy had been waiting for appeared on Dina's face. Her rosy cheeks flushed brightly and her blue eyes burned with indigo fire. She tightened her hold on Addy's arm, her nails biting into soft flesh. "Don't be an idiot. You aren't Nick's type. I'm Nick's type. Ever since we became lovers when he was seventeen, he's looked for me in every woman he meets. I have no doubt that when he's making love to those other blondes, he pretends he's making love to me."

Salty, burning bile rose in Addy's throat. She had suspected that Nick and Dina had once been lovers, but hearing the woman admit it was almost more than Addy could bear. She tried to keep her reaction from showing, from being so blatantly obvious. Nothing would appease Dina's spiteful jealousy more than seeing Addy upset by her scandalous admission that Nick had bedded his brother's wife. Addy had never dreamed Nick would have betrayed his own brother. Maybe she didn't know him as well as she thought she did.

"I couldn't care less about you and Nick," Addy lied. "But I think Daddy might care." Addy was pleased to note Dina's shocked expression.

Dina's face paled noticeably. "I'd rather Rusty didn't know, but if telling him is the only way to get Nick out of your life and end Rusty's obsession with the idea of marrying you off to Nick, then perhaps you should tell him."

Brett Windsor opened the door connecting the reception area to Ginger Kimbrew's office. "Addy, I'm glad you're still here." Brett glanced from Addy to Dina, then back to Addy. "Is there something wrong?"

"No," both women replied simultaneously.

"Well, Ginger has changed the reservations. All she had to do was mention Rusty McConnell's name. Amazing what wealth and power can do, isn't it?" Brett stepped between the two women, giving Dina a questioning glare before turning to Addy. "Has Dina said something to upset you?"

"I'm afraid Addy wasn't prepared to hear the truth about Nick. It seems she's quite smitten with him. Such a shame to see a dear, sweet girl like Addy making a fool of herself over a man—"

"I think you've said enough, Dina." Brett put his arm around Addy's quivering shoulders. "Addy has better sense than to fall for Nick Romero's rather obvious charms. Despite his smooth exterior, your brother-in-law is still as rough and uncivilized as he was when he was in the SEALs."

"I'd rather not discuss Nick with either of you." Addy started to pull away from Brett, but hesitated when she saw Nick standing in the open doorway, his dark eyes glowering at her. She leaned into Brett's embrace, slipping her arm around his waist. "Why—why don't you come over for dinner some night soon?" The minute the words escaped her mouth, Addy regretted them. How could she act so childishly, trying to use Brett to make Nick jealous?

Brett's smile dazzled Addy with its perfection. "I suppose Nick will have to be there, won't he?"

"You've got that right, Windsor, but you and Addy can just pretend I'm not there." Nick glanced back into Ginger's office where her shapely behind was bent over her desk. "I could ask Ginger if she'd like to make it a foursome."