Paladin's Woman

"Good idea." Brett leaned down, planting a sweetly romantic kiss on Addy's lips.

Shocked, Addy had no intention of responding until she heard Nick's feral growl from across the room. In her peripheral vision, she saw Nick take a tentative step in her direction. Without thinking of the consequences, she responded to Brett's kiss with a passion born of her own anger and jealousy. Damn Nick for making her care about him when he was probably still in love with Dina.

Nick stopped dead still, then walking as fast as he could hampered by his bad leg, he fled past Addy and Brett and a cattily smiling Dina as if the hounds of hell were on his heels.

Addy pulled away from Brett, staring at Nick's wide back as he exited the reception area. She swallowed hard, wondering why she suddenly felt afraid of the man in whom her father had entrusted her life.

Despite the cool flow of air from the overhead fan, Nick's body glistened with sweat. He'd been punishing himself with a series of sit-ups he had hoped would exhaust him enough to sleep. He'd been seething with anger all day, ever since he'd walked in on the sickeningly sweet sight of Addy returning Brett Windsor's caress.

Clutching his fists at his sides, Nick beat the mattress, wishing it was Windsor's pretty-boy face. What the hell did Addy mean responding to Windsor with such passion? She didn't love the guy, and by her own admission, she didn't trust him. Just what had been going on?

He suspected that Dina had something to do with it. That mocking smile on her face had given her away. He knew Dina and all her little tricks. She had done or said something to Addy that made her angry with him, had made her want to get back at him. And by God, she had, in the worst possible way. He hated these feelings of jealousy. The last time he'd been jealous, he'd thought he was in love with Miguel's wife. He'd been a fool! Damned if he would ever let another woman make a fool of him.

The last thing he should be worrying about right now were his possessive feelings for Addy. Not when she was in real danger, when her very life could be at risk. He should be concentrating on keeping Addy safe, not succumbing to the powers of the green-eyed monster. Somewhere out there was a man or a woman primed and ready to kidnap Addy if Rusty McConnell allowed M.A.C.'s bid on the NASP project to stand. Nick knew that all his energy should be focused on making sure that didn't happen, regardless of what decision Rusty made about the contract bid.

He and Rusty had discussed the situation with Ned Johnson, the FBI agent assigned to the case. The federal government didn't like any type of threats being made that involved one of their pet projects—and the NASP project was a number one priority for both NASA and the Air Force.

Sam Dundee had assured Nick that he would run a check on all of M.A.C.'s competitors and have a complete report faxed to him by Monday morning at the latest. Nick knew he could count on Sam. They didn't make men any smarter, tougher or more trustworthy. Sam was one of the best friends Nick had ever had. They'd shared more than danger during their days with the DEA. They'd shared their pasts, their problems and occasionally their women.

Somewhere in the back of Nick's mind a damned pesty little suspicion wouldn't go away. What if the NASP bid had nothing to do with the kidnap attempt? What if there actually was another motive? Did he dare risk Addy's life by not paying attention to his gut instincts? Often, in the SEALs and as a DEA agent, the only thing that had saved him was his instincts.

He had pretty well ruled out Ginger Kimbrew as a suspect. The woman was too much in love with Rusty McConnell to be a threat. If the NASP bid turned out to be the real motive, Gerald Carlton headed the list, but if there was another motive—money, for instance—then Ron Glover jumped to the number one spot, followed closely by Brett Windsor. And there was always the off chance that Janice Dixon could be helping her boyfriend or… Nick hated himself for suspecting Dina. She was spoiled, self-centered and money-hungry, but he honestly didn't think she was capable of kidnapping or murder.

A loud tapping on his bedroom door drew Nick from his thoughts. Rising up on his elbows, he stared at the closed door. He made no response. The tapping began again, then he heard Addy's whispered voice.

"Nick? Nick, may I come in?"

He flipped the switch on the bedside lamp, positioned himself against the headboard and wiped the sweat off his face with the palm of his hand. "Yeah, come on in."

The door opened slowly, Addy peering in before she stepped inside and took several steps toward Nick. Seeing him lying in bed, wearing nothing but a pair of nylon shorts, she halted, staring at him with questioning eyes. "I—I want to know what's wrong."

"Why do you think something's wrong?" Damn, did she have any idea how she looked, standing there in the dim light, her titian hair tumbling down her back and onto her shoulders? She was wearing gold satin pajamas that hung loosely on her slender frame, but they didn't disguise the elegant line of her body or the pouting tips of her nipples. Just the sight of her aroused him.

"You haven't spoken two words to me since before lunch today." With slow, deliberate steps she made her way to the side of the bed.

Nick didn't move a muscle. At least not intentionally. One part of his body had a mind of its own. "I thought it best if I kept my mouth shut. Once something is said, you can't take it back."

"You're angry with me, aren't you?" She held her hands, twined together, in front of her. She didn't look directly at Nick, but down at the chenille spread folded back at the foot of the bed.

"You're too smart to try to use Windsor to make me jealous, so why did you?" He reached out, grabbing her wrist, tugging her down onto the bed beside him.

She gasped, but didn't struggle. "What makes you think that's what I was doing?"

He released her, then waited to see if she'd get up. She didn't. She sat, ramrod straight on the edge of the bed, close to but not touching him. "You don't care anything about Windsor, and you know he's only interested in Rusty's money, so what other reason could there be?"

"I am not going to become just one more of your women." Her voice trembled with emotion.

Nick ran his hand up her back, savoring the feel of her rich satin pajama top beneath his fingertips. He knew Addy's flesh would be twice as soft and smooth. She jerked, but didn't pull away. "What did Dina say to you?"

"What makes you think Dina—"

Wrapping his arm around her waist, he jerked her up the bed and to his side. She faced him then, glaring at him with both expectation and challenge in her glittering green eyes. "Let's stop playing twenty questions, Red. What did Dina say that made you so upset with me that you used Brett Windsor to hurt me?"

"My kissing Brett hurt you?" There was genuine awe in her voice, as if she were dumbfounded that she held that much power over Nick's feelings.

He grabbed her chin in his big hand, squeezing tightly but not painfully. "You know damned well that it ate me alive seeing you kiss him that way."

"Dina told me that—that you and she had been lovers."

Nick didn't respond. His hand on Addy's back stilled. He took a deep breath. "Yeah. A long time ago, when I was just a green kid whose raging hormones ruled his body." He felt her quiver.

"You—you slept with your brother's wife?"

"I slept with my brother's widow. Once."

Addy released the breath she'd been holding, then reached out to cover Nick's hand that held her chin so firmly. "Did you love her?"

"Look, Addy, what happened between Dina and me was so long ago that it has no bearing on the here and now. On the two of us." He didn't think Addy would understand if he admitted the truth. How could he explain to her that there was more than one kind of love, and that what he'd felt for Dina had been the absolutely worst kind—the most destructive kind?

"She thinks you compare every woman to her, that she's still the woman you want."

Nick flung off Addy's hand and released her chin. He jumped up off the bed, knocking Addy over in the process. She gazed up at him. "If I wanted Dina, I could have had her a thousand times over." The truth of his words rang in his ears like a dozen clanking bells. There hadn't been a time in the past twenty-odd years that he couldn't have bedded Dina. Between husbands or even during her marriages. She had no conception of the word "fidelity," and in other women, it didn't matter. But in the woman he loved, it was of paramount importance. He'd spent his entire life seeking a replacement for Dina, when in his heart he'd known she was his for the taking. He didn't want her. And he sure as hell didn't love her.

Pushing herself up with her elbows, Addy sat in the middle of Nick's bed. "I want to trust you completely … in every way, but—but I'm not prepared to take that kind of risk unless I can be sure of you."

"Sure of me how?" He glared at her, his big bronze body towering over her.

Addy had never wanted to touch a man the way she wanted to touch Nick. He was so utterly masculine that the very sight of him took her breath away. "If you want me, you're going to have to earn the right to make love to me."

"I'm going to what?"

"I want to be sure that I'm important to you, that you really care about me, that your desire for me is real."

Nick grabbed her hand, shoved it against his arousal and held it there. "That's real, Addy, as real as it gets."

She felt the throbbing evidence of his desire, and the shocking realization that she had evoked such a strong response in him tempted her almost beyond reason. Almost, but not quite. "Gerald could get hard, and he could ram himself into me, but he didn't care anything about me. I didn't mean anything to him but a way to get Daddy's money. When I give myself to a man again I don't want to have any doubts that I'm all he wants, all he cares about, above and beyond anyone or anything else."

Nick dropped his hand. Addy's hand slid down the front of Nick's shorts, her fingers caressing him. He groaned. "How the hell do I prove something like that to you?"

Addy walked toward the open door. "I don't know, but I'm sure you'll find a way."

With that said, she left. Nick stood, watching her as she disappeared into the hallway. Damned stubborn woman. She was asking too much of him. There was no way he could prove himself to her, was there? She was asking for the kind of love that didn't exist—not in his world.

Hell, he'd never had to prove himself to a woman. If she thought that he'd ever come to her begging, then she'd better think again.

Nick fell into the bed, his hot, aroused body pulsating painfully with a need that he knew only one woman on earth could appease. And that woman had just told him that if he ever wanted to find release between her long silky legs, he'd have to earn the right to make love to her.

Chapter 7

« ^ »

Hot June sunshine played hide-and-seek with gray, midmorning rain clouds, creating a hazy, overcast daylight. Standing at her kitchen window, Addy watched the warm breeze floating through the trees and shrubs in her backyard, swaying the tops of the red azaleas and teasing the clematis vine clinging to the wooden fence. Everything looked the same as it had for the past few years since she'd purchased the house in Twickenham, since she had begun a new life, totally on her own. She had grown to love the sameness, the routine pattern of peacefulness, and, above all else, she had learned to appreciate her independence.

But things were not the same. An unknown person's threats had changed her life, throwing her cherished order into chaos, reverting her father back into the overprotective parent he'd once been, and utterly destroying her hard-won privacy and independence.

Addy placed the last lunch plate into the dishwasher, then wiped her hands and laid the towel on the counter. Glancing out onto the rock patio behind her house, Addy saw Nick Romero, his broad back facing her, as he sat drinking a tall glass of iced tea. As much as the menacing kidnapper, Nick had altered the course of Addy's life, his very presence a disturbing force she found difficult to handle. More than anything she wanted to believe that his interest in her was genuine, that he truly desired her as a woman and not as the heir to a fortune. If she allowed her romantic nature to override her common sense, she would give herself to Nick, heart and soul. Already, she fantasized about him, seeing him as her knight in shining armor, the man who would cherish her and protect her … forever. But Addy had learned to control the romantic girl within, giving her realistic self the upper hand. Trusting her life to Nick was easier than trusting her own heart.

The portable phone sitting outside on the patio table rang, jarring Addy out of her thoughts. Opening the door, she stepped outside just as Nick answered.

"Hold a minute, I'll get her," he said, then shoved the chair back and stood.

Before he could turn around, Addy walked over to him. "Is that for me?"

Nick gave her a long, hard look, then handed her the telephone. "It's Jim Hester."

Addy returned Nick's scrutiny as she accepted the phone. "Hello, Jim." Addy walked around the patio, savoring the feel of the warm sun and the pleasant breeze.

"I just wanted to check on you before I leave for Washington," Jim said. "I need to know that you're all right."

"I'm fine. Honestly."

"Addy?"

She could tell by the unusual edge to his voice that something was bothering him. "What is it, Jim? What's wrong?"

"Well, I—I thought you should hear it from me."

"What?" She had never known Jim Hester to be so mysterious.

"I'm taking Tiffany with me on this trip, and … I'm taking Carol Stilwell with me."

Addy could hear Jim's deep breathing, could feel the utter stillness. "You're taking your sister-in-law?"

"Yes, well—"

"It's all right, Jim." Addy walked farther away from Nick, knowing he was listening to her every word. "If you're trying to tell me that you and Carol are—are involved, I understand."

"I just didn't want you to think that I'd been leading you on and fooling around with Carol at the same time." Jim's voice sounded strained, pleading. "I guess I've always known that nothing would ever come of our friendship. And since Romero showed up… Well—I need someone, Addy, and so does Tiffany."

"Of course you do, and believe me, I understand. Good luck, Jim. I—I hope everything works out for you and Carol."

They said their goodbyes. Addy punched the off button. Nick came up behind her, leaning over to take the phone out of her hand.

"You didn't want Jim Hester, despite the fact that he's a nice guy. You wanted to be a mother to his daughter."

She would have preferred not to discuss that situation with Nick, even though it was obvious that he'd overheard every word of her conversation and had jumped to the correct conclusion. As foolish as the notion seemed, Addy couldn't help feeling like she'd been dumped. "I thought you didn't like Jim."

"I changed my mind about Hester. I wanted to dislike him, but I couldn't. He's all right, Addy, but he's not the man for you." Nick tossed the phone into a cushioned lounge chair.

Addy fiddled with the drawstring on her yellow walking shorts. "Let me get this straight. You've warned me off Brett Windsor because he's only interested in my money and you think Jim was the wrong man for me because all I wanted from that relationship was to be a mother to Tiffany."

"That about sums it up."

"I'm surprised you aren't telling me that you're the right man for me. Now would be the perfect time, wouldn't it?" Addy couldn't bring herself to face Nick. Somehow she knew he was smiling, that self-assured, macho smile.

"I am the right man for you, and we both know it."

"You're wrong, all wrong." She turned, forcing herself to look at him, determined to remain in control. "What you want is another conquest. You want—"

"I want you." Nick focused all his attention on Addy, his dark eyes reaching out, pulling her to him, mesmerizing her by their look of heated desire. "I don't want another woman, and I couldn't care less about Rusty's millions. All I want is you. Your body, your mind, your heart. Everything that makes you Addy."

When Nick reached out and took her hand, she jerked away from his touch as if he'd hurt her. "Don't do this to me. I can't handle it."

She ran from him, her bare feet racing over the warm flagstones. Nick didn't follow her immediately. Running his fingers through his thick black hair, he cursed himself for a fool. He couldn't seem to get it right with Addy. With other women he'd always been the smooth Romeo, who knew exactly what to say and do. With Addy it was different. She was different. The woman was driving him crazy. She wanted him to prove himself to her, and he had no earthly idea how to go about doing it.

He gave her five minutes alone—four minutes more than he wanted to give her. He found her in the den, staring out the window. She'd wrapped her arms around herself. Her shoulders drooped in defeat.

"Addy?"

Her body stiffened, but she didn't turn around or reply. He walked over to her. More than anything he wanted to pull her into his arms. He didn't dare. At this precise moment she'd fight him like a wildcat. Addy was a woman who needed persuasion, and he was damned and determined that he was going to be the man to persuade her.

"Come on and sit down," Nick said, his big hand hovering over her shoulder. It was all he could do to keep from touching her. "Why don't we just sit and talk for a while?"

"I don't want to talk to you." Addy kept her back to him. "I want you to leave me alone."

"Were you this stubborn as a little girl? If you were, Rusty must have had his hands full raising you."

Some of the tension drained from her body. It wasn't a visible thing, yet Nick sensed it. He lowered his right hand to her shoulder, making sure his touch was light and non-threatening.

Addy felt the warmth of his touch through her blouse. His hand was big and hard and strong, yet his grip on her shoulder was unbearably tender. Hating herself for enjoying the feel of his hand on her body, she refused to look at him. She didn't trust herself to remain in control if his eyes were still filled with desire.

"I'll never lie to you." Nick balanced his cane against the wall, then placed his left hand on her other shoulder, turning her around toward him. "I'm not looking for love and marriage and I'm not making you any forever-after promises."

Addy glanced down at the Sarouk rug beneath her bare feet. Her vision focused on the intricate gold, rust and blue pattern. "What—what can you give me, Nick, in return for my blind faith in you?"

He reached out, slipping his fist beneath Addy's chin. "I can give you passion and fulfillment. I can make you glad that you're a woman."

She was tempted, so very tempted. But men said whatever they thought necessary to get what they wanted. They sought out your weaknesses and used them against you. Men did that sort of thing. Gerald had.

He tilted her chin upward, forcing her to face him. Her eyes widened with a mixture of anger and embarrassment. Every word he said was true, but how could he make her believe him? "Addy?"

"I'm not going to sleep with you, so you might as well give up on me. I—I don't like sex, and I refuse to become one more in a long line of women who've shared your bed."

Releasing her chin, Nick stepped away from her, but didn't break eye contact. "You didn't like sex with Gerald. That doesn't mean you won't like sex with me."

"You are, without a doubt, the most egotistical man I've ever known. I'm no good at sex, and not even a Latin stud like you can change what's lacking in me. I'd disappoint you, Nick, so why don't you stop pursuing me and put us both out of our misery?"

"The only thing that's going to put us out of our misery is making love. I've just got to figure out a way to prove myself to you." Walking over to the stereo unit hidden inside the huge oak cupboard, Nick checked through Addy's tape and disk collection. "Don't you have anything except classical and semi-classical stuff?" He held up a tape. "Well, what have we here? It's not exactly Ricky Van Shelton, but it's not Beethoven either."

Addy couldn't stop looking at him, puzzled by the sudden change in his conversation from something extremely personal to something totally insignificant. What was he trying to do, throw her off guard?

Nick inserted the tape in the player, then leaning heavily on his cane, walked over and sat down on the sofa, tossing several pillows onto a nearby round table. Suddenly the sound of soft, romantic music permeated the room. The mixed voices of men and women sang "Close to You." Nick patted the sofa. "Come sit down and we'll talk."

Addy gave him a wary stare. "I don't trust you."

"Yes, you do. It's yourself you don't trust."

Addy moved toward Nick, slowly, cautiously, intent on proving him wrong. A show of bravado was called for here. She wasn't a silly young woman eager to believe a man's sweet lies. She was a woman who'd gone through her trial of fire, and she could handle anything, including the likes of Nick Romero.

Addy sat down, making sure she was as far from Nick as she could possibly get while sharing the same small sofa with him. "I don't want to talk about sex."

"Fine. Let's talk about Addy McConnell when she was a little girl." Nick scooted several inches toward her, then propped his big feet on a tiny needlepoint footstool. "What did you do for fun?"

"I—I took riding lessons, swimming lessons, tennis lessons, piano lessons—"

"Whoa, Red! I asked what you did for fun. Lessons aren't fun."

"I enjoyed my lessons, even if there were never any other children around … only my bodyguards." Addy shifted nervously when Nick draped his arm across the back of the sofa.

An entirely instrumental rendition of the "Gone with the Wind" theme filled the room. Addy sighed. Nick smiled.

"You really were a poor little rich girl, weren't you? An overprotected, pampered Southern belle in a golden cage. Didn't you ever spend any time with other kids?"

"No. Only when Janice was allowed to visit and when Daddy gave me my yearly birthday party." Addy remembered those precious visits with Janice, who had become her dearest friend—her only friend. And the parties had been like dreams fulfilled when the children of M.A.C. employees were brought out to the mansion to celebrate her birthday.

"What about school?" Nick inched closer to Addy. She didn't seem to notice.

"I had private tutors. Public school was never considered, and Daddy thought private schools weren't safe."

"Are you saying that you never did anything just for fun? Spontaneous things? Crazy things?"

"Everything I did had to be supervised, otherwise it was unsafe. I—I did have privacy in my room. I learned to escape into books. They became my friends." It had been in those books that she had become a part of the fantasies, the romantic legends, the tales of knights and their ladies. As a child she had first read of Charlemagne and his twelve paladins—the douze pairs who were his bodyguards and companions.

When Nick eased his arm around her shoulders, she started to pull away, but realized that she didn't want to leave the warm comfort of his embrace.

"There was a world of difference in our childhoods. Nobody ever watched over me. The only person who even cared where I was or what I was doing was my grandmother. My father was a field hand who was either working or boozing it up. He finally drank himself to death." Nick tightened his hold on Addy when she snuggled against him, bending her knees as she lifted her feet onto the sofa.

"What about your mother?" Addy asked.

"My mother." Nick grunted. How could he possibly explain a woman like Kitty Romero to Addy? "My mother liked men. All men. While my father drank, she whored around. She left us, my brother Miguel and me, when I was ten."

"Oh, Nick, I know how difficult it is to lose a mother."

"Red, losing my mother was a godsend. She was nothing but white trash. My grandmother was the only mother we ever really knew. Kitty did us a big favor by leaving."

Addy could hear the pain in Nick's voice, the anger he tried so hard to deny. When she laid her head on his shoulder, she felt him stiffen and then relax. "My mother committed suicide when I was ten. She—she had a nervous breakdown after Donnie … when Donnie was murdered."

"I didn't intend for us to talk about gloomy subjects." He loved the feel of her so close to him, her head resting against him, her whole body snuggling to him with such trust.

"Then maybe we shouldn't talk about our childhoods."

"Mine wasn't all bad," he said, reaching down to take her hand in his, holding it palm up. "Miguel and I were close, and we had a lot of fun together. He was five years older, but he never tried to brush me off so he could run with the older guys. He took me everywhere with him." Suddenly, Nick's whole body tightened, his face rigid. "Damn!"

"What's wrong?" She gazed up into his face and almost cried at the sorrow she saw in his dark eyes.

"I can't seem to steer clear of gloom and doom." When she stared at him questioningly, he said, "Miguel was killed in an oil rig accident when I was seventeen. God, I thought I'd die when we lost him!"

"He—Miguel was married to Dina."

"Yeah." Nick squeezed her hand, then released it and withdrew his arm from around her shoulders. He looked at her, sensing the waves of sympathy flowing from her, washing over him. He grabbed her face in his big hands, cradling her gently. "Tell me about your birthday parties, Red. I never had a birthday party in my whole life."

Instantly Addy realized that he didn't want to talk about Miguel and Dina and his relationship with them. Addy smiled at Nick. "Oh, my birthday parties were grand affairs. We had them at Elm Hill before Mama died, and then at Daddy's new house afterward. All of M.A.C.'s employees' children came. It was always a catered affair with a huge cake, ice sculptures that held the ice cream and thousands of helium balloons released into the air. And entertainment. A pony ride, a clown, and a band when I got older." Tears gathered in her eyes. She willed them away. She didn't cry. Not ever. Not anymore. "I always loved my birthdays. It was the only time I never felt—confined."

"I got invited to a birthday party once. One of the kids at school. I don't think I ever envied another kid so much in all my life." Nick ran his hands down Addy's neck, across her shoulders, and down her arms. He stopped at her waist. "It was no big production like your parties. Just cake and ice cream. A few drooping balloons. But what I remember were the presents. All that bright wrapping paper and ribbons and all those gifts." He pulled Addy toward him. She went willingly. "I was lucky if I got one present at Christmas, and never on my birthday. Grandma would always remember. When I was little she'd give me a dime to go to the store for ice cream. We were so damned poor."

"My father grew up poor, too." Addy could not resist the hunger in Nick's eyes. "You and Daddy really do have a great deal in common, don't you?"

"Yeah, in more ways than you'd ever imagine." Nick lowered his head, his lips brushing hers. "We both care a hell of a lot about you."

Being kissed by Nick Romero was very much like being burned by a painless fire, a fire that consumed and left you hot but unharmed. His lips were warm and damp and demanding. He nibbled, he teased, then parried before thrusting. She groaned into his open mouth, accepting the invasion of his tongue, feeling herself slowly but surely unraveling from within. Spiraling tension built low in her stomach, the pressure mounting as it invaded the very core of her. Her nipples tightened. Her small breasts suddenly felt very heavy.

She clung to him, not wanting these strange but wonderful new feelings to end. Nick wasn't just her bodyguard. He wasn't just some Latin lover out to score. He was a man who'd known his share of pain. A man whose childhood still tormented him as Addy's did her. Poverty and neglect had soiled the pure happiness of his boyhood. Enviable wealth and constant protection had taken the joy from her girlhood.

Nick deepened the kisses, devouring Addy with his passion. He gave his hands free rein, allowing them to roam over Addy's body at will. She was willowy thin and so delicately made that he could easily break her in two with his hands. He covered one breast with his palm, savoring the feel of her jutting nipple against his rough flesh. He wanted this woman—wanted her in a way he didn't understand. She was more than a body, more than the means of physical release. He wanted to absorb her, to bring her to him and make her his.

Nick lifted Addy onto his lap. She felt the hard, pressing throb of his arousal against her bottom. Her mind screamed that it was time to run. Her love-starved body silenced her mind by squirming against Nick while she thrust her tongue out to meet his.

He knew if he didn't stop now, it would be too late. Addy was responding to him, wild and hot and wanting. But she wasn't ready for him. He hadn't proven himself to her. When he took her, he wanted her to know what she was doing, to be sure of him and of herself. He wanted her to accept the fact that they were destined to become lovers, but he didn't dare risk letting her think there could ever be more to their mating. Addy had to come to him fully prepared to accept a short-term relationship.

He slowed the kiss, soothing her body with gently caressing strokes. Releasing her mouth, he leaned his forehead against hers. "I love the taste of you, Addy, and the feel of you. You've gotten me so excited I'm hurting."

"Nick?" She spoke in a hushed whimper, her arms still draped around him, her body still seeking closer contact with his.

He patted her face, tenderly, softly. "It's going to happen for us, but only when you're ready."

Pulling away, Addy stared at him. Her eyes were wide and round, her mouth open on a sigh. "You—you really do want me, don't you?"

"More than I've ever wanted another woman."

She slipped off his lap, then stood. Gazing down at him, she reached out with trembling fingers, then jerked her hand back before looking directly into his desire-filled eyes. "I want to believe you… I want to—"

"And you will, when I've proven myself to you."

"Nick?"

"When there are no more doubts in your mind or your heart, then you'll come to me and I'll give you more pleasure than you could ever imagine." He saw the startled look cross her face, the sweet, pink flush that stained her cheeks. "Don't worry about what happened in the past. You aren't frigid or inadequate in any way. When you decide the time is right, I'll show you just how good at sex you can be."

Addy couldn't breathe. Her lungs refused to function, so heavy was the weight of emotions pressing down on her. Nick's words set off an explosion of sensations inside her, frightening her into action. Turning from him she fled, running out into the hall.

Nick sat on the sofa, his body aching with unfulfilled desire. With any other woman, he'd have taken her body, given her satisfaction and felt only mild affection for her the following day. Addy McConnell was different. He knew that once he'd experienced the ecstasy of being buried deep inside her hot, sweet depths, neither of them would ever be the same again.

Damn, how had this happened? How had he allowed himself to get so emotionally involved?

Addy stood in the foyer, gripping the staircase banister with her damp hands. She could hear her heart beating, drumming loudly in her ears. Her mind reeled from the sure knowledge that she had come close, very close to succumbing to Nick Romero's dangerous charm. Perspiration moistened her aroused body.

He—not she—had called a halt to the passion that had consumed them both. He could have taken advantage of her, but he hadn't. That proved something, didn't it? Wasn't his consideration of her feelings a sign that she could trust him?

Slumping down on the bottom step, Addy propped her elbows on her knees and cradled her chin and cheeks in her hands. Dear Lord, how had her life gotten so far off course? How had she, in one week's time, gone from a sensible, independent woman in control of her own life to a romantic fool bound to an irresistible man, dependent upon him for protection and yearning for him to give her love?

The doorbell chimes echoed loudly in the foyer. Addy jerked, startled by the sound. Staring at the door, she hesitated momentarily, then made her way forward, peeking through the privacy viewer to see the mailman standing on her front porch. Without giving it another thought, she unlocked and opened the door.

"A package for you, Ms. McConnell." The tall, bearded mailman had been making the rounds in the Twickenham district ever since Addy had moved here five years ago. She didn't know his name, but recognized his friendly face.

"Thank you." She accepted the brown paper-wrapped box, then turned and stepped back into the foyer.

Nick grabbed the package out of her hands. "Why the hell did you open the front door? You should have called me!"

"It was the mailman, for heaven's sakes." Addy pulled on the package that Nick had slipped under his arm. "You don't think someone would send a bomb through the mail, do you?"

"It's been known to happen." He took the package into the den and set it down on the sofa. Addy followed closely behind him. "Get out of here. We have no idea what's inside and I don't want you anywhere around when I open this thing."

"We should call the police. Let them open it." She couldn't bear the thought of something happening to Nick. What if it were a bomb? What if he died keeping her safe?

"I won't take any chances, Red." He looked at her concerned face, that golden face with a smattering of freckles across her perky little nose. "I know what I'm doing. I'm highly trained, remember?"

Addy nodded, then walked out of the room, making her way down the hall and out onto the patio. Dingy clouds obscured the sun, casting a dreary glow over the gravel walkway leading to the wooden bench near the hedge that closed off the yard from the alley. The breeze picked up force, swirling minuscule particles of dirt and loose grass into the air.

Addy sat down on the backless bench, her nervous fingers idly picking at the profusion of flowers surrounding her. A dozen different questions whirled about in her mind, thoughts and images tormenting her with doubt, possibilities filling her with dread. She hadn't been expecting a package. She hadn't ordered anything, and the box was wrapped in plain brown paper and tied with string, childlike in its simplicity. Her name had been printed in bold black letters, the stick-on kind that could be purchased in any stationery shop.

Minutes ticked by, soundless except in her mind, where each second toned louder than a striking mantel clock. What would Nick find inside the mysterious package? Her feminine instincts told her that the contents weren't harmless, that they would, somehow, be connected to the man threatening her safety. Both she and her father were convinced that Gerald Carlton was the most likely suspect, but Nick hadn't allowed their certainty to sway his judgment. He'd told them that the only way to keep Addy safe was to keep an open mind, to suspect everyone, whether or not their motives were obvious.

The sound of distant thunder announced the possibility of rain. Glancing toward the west, Addy saw a dark horizon. With a great deal of anxious turning and twisting, she managed to stay seated, though she longed to rush back inside to be with Nick, to share whatever fate befell him. She didn't want him facing danger alone.

The moments dragged by like hours. The rumbling thunder grew close. The wind whipped around Addy, tousling her loosely confined hair and blowing dust into her eyes. No matter what, even if it started to rain, she wasn't going to move from this spot until Nick came for her. If she stayed right here and waited, everything would be all right. She would be all right. And Nick would be all right.

Sharp, bright lightning streaked the sky. Addy closed her eyes and prayed. The first tiny droplets of rain fell, hitting her bare arms and legs, sprinkling the bench and the gravel walkway. Thunder boomed loudly. Opening her eyes, Addy stared at the back of her house. Nick stood in the doorway, the open box in one hand, his black cane in the other. She gasped, relief spreading through her like syrupy sweet jelly over hot biscuits.

Jumping up, she ran to him. The dark sky exploded with lightning, the clouds bursting with rain. Nick wrapped his arm around Addy, holding the box behind her back as he pulled her close.

"Oh, Nick, I've been so worried!" Burying her face against his shoulder, she clung to him, whispering his name over and over again.

"I'm fine, Red." He didn't want her to see the contents of the box, but he knew he couldn't protect her from them. She would demand to see what lay inside and he had no right to refuse. She needed to know what type of lunatic they were dealing with and understand that they didn't dare narrow their list of suspects down to Gerald Carlton.

Nick pulled her with him into the kitchen, dropping the box on the countertop, then jerking Addy's trembling body against the solid strength of his own. He stroked her neck, her back, her hips, his big hand moving up and down slowly, caressingly. He threaded his fingers into her hair, pulling free the long titian strands from the thick bun.

She looked at him and knew that she loved him.

"Addy?" He had never seen an expression so serene on a woman's face. It was as if Addy had discovered some wondrous truth that erased all her pain and anger and fear.

"I was afraid … if there had been a bomb—"

"No bomb. Just pictures, and newspaper photos and articles." He circled her neck with his hand, soothing her damp flesh with the pad of his thumb. "You're not going to want to see those things, Red, so why don't you just let me tell you what they are."

She stared deeply into his dark eyes which were filled with tenderness and concern. "The package is from him, isn't it, the man who's determined to keep M.A.C. from bidding on the NASP project?"

"Yeah." Nick glided his thumb up and under Addy's chin. Right now he wanted to ease her fears, to caress her, to love her and keep her safe. "The guy's trying to play mind games with us, Red. Remember that. If he gets to you, then he's succeeded in what he set out to do."

"Let me have the box, Nick." She pulled away from him, turning toward the counter.

He released her, knowing that all he could do was stand by and watch her confront her past. "I'll have to call Rusty. He needs to know."

Addy's hand hovered over the box. Touching the lid, her fingers trembled. With haste born of fear, she slipped opened the box and stared at the contents. Nestled inside like brittle, golden autumn leaves, the old newspaper clippings lay scattered, mixed with snapshots of her brother. She reached out, but her fingers refused to cooperate. She couldn't touch the items. Tight, choking tears swelled in her chest and burned in her throat.

Nick stood behind her, his big, hard body a source of warmth and comfort. Slipping one arm around her waist, he whispered, "You don't have to do this."

A strangled cry escaped her throat. She balled her hands into snug fists. "This is going to kill Daddy. He never talks about Donnie. Never!"

Forging ahead with all the inner strength she could muster, Addy picked up a photograph of Donnie, dressed in his cowboy outfit and sitting atop his pony. Tears gathered in Addy's eyes. She blinked them away.

"Who would have access to pictures of your brother?" Nick asked.

It took Addy a couple of minutes to understand his question. "Oh, Lord, I don't know. Servants, friends, relatives. Anyone who's ever been at the house. Daddy boxed away all the old pictures years ago, but he kept them in the storage areas above the garage. He even kept all of Donnie's clothes—and all of Mama's things, too."

"That narrows down the suspects somewhat, but still leaves all the major ones. Gerald. Ron. Brett."

Addy picked up a fragile newspaper clipping. The headlines jumped out at her. It was the story of Donnie's murder. A photograph of his lifeless little body accompanied the article. "Oh, God, we can't show these to Daddy!" She handled each article, each picture of her brother, her father, her mother and herself. Her parents' grief-stricken faces had been captured by some over-zealous photographer at Donnie's funeral. Stories of her mother's suicide four years later had made front page news.

The sour, sick feeling began in her stomach. Torturous pounding began in her temples. She swayed slightly and might have lost her balance had it not been for Nick's strong hold about her waist.

Suddenly she pulled away from him, running, running. She made it to the downstairs powder room a split second before her stomach emptied itself. Nick caught up with her in the powder room where she'd knelt on her knees in front of the commode. He grabbed a hand towel, wet it with cool water and bent by her side, laying his cane on the floor as he wiped perspiration from her pale face.

"It's okay, Red. I've seen grown men in the middle of battle react far worse." With tenderness and compassion, he cleaned her face and pushed back loose strands of damp, clinging hair.

"I don't want to relive those days." She accepted Nick's help as he eased her up and onto her feet.

"The person who sent the clippings and pictures knows that. He's counting on your pain and fear as well as Rusty's to get him what he wants."

"Was there a note?" She didn't hesitate to cling, to snuggle, to seek comfort in Nick's arms.

He held her, longing for the power to solve Addy's problems and ease her pain and sorrow. "Yes. I left it in the den."

"What did it say?"

"The same old stuff about bidding on the NASP contract."

"Daddy has to know." She laid her head on Nick's shoulder, closing her eyes, willing herself to be strong and brave. Her father would need her strength. "If only there were some way to keep Daddy from seeing the articles, the pictures of Donnie and Mama."

"Rusty is going to be able to handle all this old grief a lot easier than he's going to be able to deal with the continued threat on your life." Nick tightened his hold on her, silently cursing the demon whose sick mind was putting Addy in danger. He would not let anyone harm her. No matter what it took, he was going to keep her safe.

"What more can Daddy do? I'm under constant surveillance. You're with me night and day." She thanked the dear Lord in heaven for Nick. All the resentment, the distrust, the uncertainty vanished. Maybe she was a fool. She didn't know. She was certain of only one thing. She was falling in love with Nick Romero.

"Rusty can let me take you away from here. Out of Huntsville to some place no one knows about … where no one can find us." Nick had made that suggestion to Rusty a week ago. He'd told Nick that Addy would never agree. But now, the threat to her life had escalated. Things had changed. With or without her agreement, Addy would soon be going into hiding. He'd convince Rusty that it was the only foolproof way to keep her safe.

"I don't want to leave Huntsville, to run like some scared—"

Nick silenced her by placing his hand over her mouth. She glared up at him, her green eyes vivid with surprise. "You'll do whatever I tell you to do, woman. Understand?"

Addy nodded in agreement, remaining silent when Nick removed his hand. There was no point in arguing for the sake of arguing. Nick's background made him far more of an expert than either she or her father. If Nick said they had to go into hiding, then she'd go.

"You're awfully quiet, Red. Just what's going on in that sharp little brain of yours?"

"I was thinking how lucky I am to have you as my own personal bodyguard."

He stared at her, knowing there was more to her statement than met the eye. Strong emotions vibrated in the air, a pulsating tension between the two of them. She looked at him, her feelings written plainly on her face. Addy McConnell had fallen for him. It was what he'd wanted, wasn't it, for her to care enough to let him be her lover? Becoming Addy's lover could get complicated. Once he'd had her, would he ever be able to let her go?

"Well, I'll be damned," Nick said.

"We both may be damned," Addy said. "But I'm willing to take the risk."

Chapter 8

« ^ »

Nick opened the door and stepped back, avoiding a collision with Rusty McConnell. Addy's father barreled into the foyer like an out-of-control steamroller.

"Where is she?" A splattering of sweat dotted Rusty's ruddy cheeks. His deep baritone voice trembled with anger.

"She's in the den." Nick reached out a restraining hand, grasping the older man by the arm.

Rusty stopped, eyeing Nick with a harsh glare. "Is she all right?"

"Yeah, she's all right … now. But she won't be if you go storming in there and upset her." Gauging Rusty's reaction to his comment, Nick felt him relax slightly, his big, powerful body losing some of its rigidity. "Look, she's worried about you. She's more concerned by how this is affecting you than anything else." Nick released his tenacious grip on Rusty's arm.

"Where's the box?"

"She has it with her," Nick said.

"Dammit, man, why did you ever let her see it in the first place?"

"I didn't want her to see it, but I didn't have the right to keep it from her. She's not a child, and as much as you and I want to protect her, we're not doing her any favors by treating her like one."

"Hell, she is a child. My child! My only child…"

"Granted. But she's also a woman, an adult who's fought long and hard for the right to be treated as one." Nick nodded toward the living room. "We need to talk, just the two of us … alone, before you see Addy."

"Keeping secrets from her?" Rusty asked. "I thought you said we needed to treat her like an adult."

"Addy already knows what I'm going to say to you. I just didn't think it was necessary for her to have to hear it all over again while you and I thrash things out." Nick walked out of the foyer and into the living room, stopping briefly in the doorway to issue Rusty an invitation. "How about something to drink while we talk?"

Rusty grunted, then smiled. "Sure. Scotch. Neat." He joined Nick in the living room, watching while his daughter's bodyguard poured two glasses a third full, then handed one to him.

"Sit?" Nick asked, lifting the Scottish whiskey to his mouth, tasting it, savoring the smoky flavor.

"I know what you're trying to do, Romero." Sitting down, Rusty filled a blue brocade wingback chair with his big body.

Nick didn't respond. He simply stared at Rusty as if he didn't have any idea what he was talking about.

"You want to calm me down before I see Addy." D.B. McConnell took a hardy sip of his Scotch, allowing it to linger in his mouth before swallowing. "Seeing those pictures and newspaper clippings upset her more than she wants me to know. Right?" When Nick didn't reply, he continued. "You're trying to protect my daughter from me, aren't you?"

"Look, Rusty, I'm probably overstepping my bounds, but the last thing Addy needs right now is to see you coming apart at the seams."

"I agree." Rusty took another hefty taste of his drink. "I knew you were the man for Addy the night you threatened to castrate Gerald Carlton, the same night you saved her from a kidnapper."

"I admit that I care about Addy, that I'll do whatever it takes to protect her, but don't go ringing wedding bells and throwing rice. I've been a bachelor for forty-three years, and I plan on staying one another forty-three."

Rusty finished his Scotch, set the glass down on a nearby cherry table and stood. "I like that about you. You're honest with me, and I'll bet you're honest with Addy. That's good enough for me. Don't make her any promises you don't intend to keep."

Choosing to ignore Rusty's comments, Nick plunged right to the heart of the matter. "I need to get Addy out of this house, away from Huntsville." He set his unfinished drink down beside Rusty's. "It's the only way I can guarantee her safety."

"Has she agreed?"

"Yes, she has. Your daughter may be as stubborn as a mule, but she isn't stupid. We're dealing with an unknown quantity here, a guy who's making threats to kidnap—threats to kill—if you bid on the NASP project. If he doesn't know where Addy is, he can't hurt her."

"I've got a condo in Florida and an apartment outside Washington—"

"And everybody who knows you and Addy knows about the condo and the apartment."

Grunting, Rusty rubbed his chin as he considered other possibilities. "I've got friends and business associates all over, even in Europe. I can call in some favors and have the two of you on a plane to practically anywhere in the world within twelve hours."

"It'll be best if I take Addy someplace that even you don't know about." Nick waited for the lion's roar. He didn't have to wait long.

"What? You can't mean that you don't want me to know where my own daughter is? That won't wash with me, Romero! Wherever Addy goes, I want to stay in contact with her!"

"I've already called Sam Dundee," Nick said. "He's got a place lined up for us. No one except Sam will know our whereabouts. I'll check in daily with him, and he'll relay the message to you. If you need to contact us, then call Sam and he'll get in touch with us."

Rusty paced back and forth in front of the fireplace, his hands balled into fists as if he longed to smash something. "I don't like it … but you're right."

"Then you agree?"

"Yeah. Reluctantly, but I agree."

"Let's tell Addy."

The moment her father entered the den, Addy jumped off the couch and ran to him, throwing her arms around him.

Rusty soothed her, petting her like the child she was to him. "It's all right, baby girl."

"Oh, Daddy, please don't look at the pictures or the articles. It won't change anything. It'll just upset you." She gazed at him pleadingly.

He ran his fingers down her cheek, tenderly grasping her chin in his hand. "I don't need to see them. I'll just take a look at the note."

Addy sighed with relief. Going through the contents of the box had made her physically ill, and even now her mind could not erase the images of those long-ago newspaper articles—articles she'd never been allowed to see when they'd been fresh news. But her father would have seen them all, twenty-nine years ago when Donnie had been kidnapped and murdered, and twenty-five years ago when Madeline Delacourt McConnell had committed suicide.

"Ned Johnson is on his way over here," Nick said.

"You've already called the FBI?" Rusty shook his head. "Do you think there's any way they can trace the box, find out who sent it?"

"It's doubtful. I think we're dealing with a very intelligent person, one who's covering his tracks. I'd bet my life that our mystery man didn't leave any prints on the box or its contents. That's why I saw no reason not to take a look at everything before I called Johnson."

"Even intelligent people make mistakes," Addy said.

"That's what we're counting on." Nick pulled out a sheet of plain white paper from his pocket, handing it to Rusty. "Here's the note that was lying on top of the pictures and clippings."

Rusty released Addy, took the note and read it hastily. "M.A.C. doesn't have to bid on the NASP contract."

"Yes, we do," Addy said vehemently. "No matter who's behind this, Gerald or … or someone else, we can't let them get what they want. Not only will we lose millions, but it could cost hundreds of jobs."

"Your life is worth more than money or jobs," Rusty said.

"My life is safe." Addy turned to Nick, smiling. "Nick and I are leaving Huntsville before daybreak tomorrow, and we're not coming home until M.A.C. has won the NASP contract. Two more weeks and this will all be over."

"If only we knew for sure it was Carlton." Rusty clutched his hands in imitation of a stranglehold, crumpling the threatening letter. "I'd kill that bastard with my bare hands. I should have killed him years ago!"

"If Gerald is behind these threats, then the FBI will catch him." Addy hoped it was Gerald. She'd thought she was long over her hatred and bitterness, but she wasn't. Her ex-husband had put her through three years of agony and stripped her of her dignity as a woman. Death was too good for him!

"When I called Johnson to tell him about Addy's little package, he gave me some interesting information." Nick reached out, taking the badly crinkled letter from Rusty. "Information that possibly links the man who tried to kidnap Addy last Friday night to Gerald Carlton."

"What did Johnson tell you?" Rusty asked.

"The man who tried to kidnap me was named Linc Hites," Addy said. "He worked for a janitorial service that New Age Aerospace uses."

"Damn!" Rusty turned his attention to Nick. "Is there any evidence that Carlton and this Hites fellow actually knew each other?"

"None, but Johnson's keeping tabs on Carlton. If he's our man, then all we need is for him to make one little slip." Nick had gone over the list of suspects time and again. Unless the man behind the kidnap plot was someone unknown to the McConnells, then all the circumstantial evidence pointed to Gerald Carlton.

"Not much can be done without some hard evidence to back up our suspicions." Rusty slumped down on the sofa, his enormous body dwarfing the small couch. "All right. You and Addy go into hiding. When M.A.C. wins the NASP contract—" he smiled at Addy, and she smiled back "—you two come back to Huntsville. The threat will be over. He will have lost and we'll have won."

Nick wished things were that simple, and they just might be—if the person or persons behind the threats really did want to keep M.A.C. from acquiring the government job and this person or persons didn't seek revenge when things went sour. But what if they did seek revenge, or what if the contract bid was a smoke screen? It never paid to rule out any and all possibilities.

"Let's hope that's the scenario," Nick said. "We'll work under that assumption for the time being."

"Addy said you two were leaving in the morning." Rusty held out his hand and Addy accepted it, seating herself beside her father.

"Yeah. Before daylight." Nick picked up the infamous box. "I'll go wait for Ned Johnson and give you two some time alone."

"Thanks." Rusty put his arm around Addy. She rested against him, her head on his shoulder. "Oh, yeah, Nick, why don't I send some of Dundee's men with you? They could ride shotgun on your trip."

"Bad idea," Nick said. "An entourage will call attention to us. A man and woman traveling alone is commonplace. Trust me on this, Rusty."

Neither man said anything else, but they stared at each other for several silent moments, weighing each other, sizing up one another. Two strong men with the same singular purpose—protecting Addy from harm, no matter what the cost.

Nick turned, leaving the room. Addy had sensed the unspoken exchange between her father and her … her what? Her bodyguard. Her protector. Her defender.

"He told me he wasn't interested in getting married." Rusty leaned back so he could get a clear view of Addy's face.

"What?" Addy gasped, glaring at her father with startled green eyes.

"I asked him about his intentions," Rusty said with mock seriousness, without a hint of a smile.

"Oh, Lord, Daddy!"

"He said he intended staying a bachelor for another forty-three years."

Addy wondered what Nick had thought of her father's questioning. Had he resented Rusty's interference or had he simply found the notion that D.B. McConnell wanted him to marry Addy amusing? "He told me the same thing."

"The right woman could probably change his mind."

"You hadn't known the man twenty-four hours when you decided you wanted him for a son-in-law. How can you be so sure?" Addy pulled away, giving her father a questioning stare. "You liked Gerald when you first met him, too, remember?"

"Hell, don't remind me! That jerk had us both fooled. He was a charmer. Silver-tongued, smooth and—well, he was a man's man, or at least I thought he was."

"Nick Romero is all those things, too, you know."

"Nick's the genuine article. He's not pretending to be anything he isn't. And he's not pretending his interest in you, either. He knows that I'm aware of how much he wants you, and yet he told me honestly that he isn't interested in marriage."

"Are we both acting like fools again, Daddy, putting so much faith and trust in a man we hardly know, a man who came into our lives because of Dina?" Addy wanted to tell her father about Dina's real relationship with Nick, that the two had once been lovers, but she didn't want to add to the problems already plaguing him.

"You know about Nick and Dina, don't you?" Rusty's faded green eyes darkened, his gaze searching her face.

"She told you?"

"Nope. Dina didn't tell me anything, except how fond she's always been of Nick, but I read between the lines."

"Doesn't it bother you, knowing she slept with her husband's brother?" It certainly bothered Addy. Every time she thought about Nick and Dina, naked, hot and sweaty, in Nick's bed, she wanted to scratch out the other woman's eyes.

"Dina is very insecure. She thinks money is the answer to all of life's problems." Rusty took Addy's hand, patting it gently. "I know what Dina is, but I still want her. Hell, baby girl, I'm in love with the woman. Besides, I'm not lily-white pure myself. You know that."

"Then it doesn't bother you, knowing … knowing—"

"When Dina and I make love, I don't waste my energy thinking about who else she's been with." Rusty laughed, deepening the heavy lines around his eyes and mouth. "Damn, this is hardly a subject a man should be discussing with his daughter!"

"If I were your son, you'd discuss it with me, wouldn't you?"

Rusty laughed louder. "You've got me there!"

Addy joined his laughter. He hugged her to him again. "Daddy, I think I'm falling in love with Nick."

"I'm not surprised. There's a chemistry between you two. I felt it the night you met. Romero doesn't know it yet, but I'd bet my last million that he's falling for you, too."

"I—I've decided to have an affair with him." Addy didn't look directly at her father, uncertain of his reaction.

"Good idea! Try him out and see how he performs." Rusty held back the hardy chuckle straining his lungs.

"Daddy!"

The chuckle burst loose from Rusty, filling the room with his good humor, releasing the tension that hung in the air like a dark rain cloud. "Don't think about the other women he's been with, not even Dina. Those women are a part of his past. You, Addy McConnell, could damn well be his future."

"I hope you're right, Daddy. I hope I have a future—" hastily she added "—with Nick."

He stood just outside the open door of Addy's bedroom, watching while she packed. She was very neat, every item folded and placed with precise care. On top of her slacks, blouses and sweaters lay her lingerie, skimpy little tidbits of silk and lace and sheer nylon in colors from the palest flesh tone to the most lush, vivid purple. He couldn't help but imagine what sort of frothy satin temptations she was wearing beneath her walking shorts and cotton pullover.

The antique grandfather clock in the hallway struck ten times. In less than seven hours he would take Addy away from her home, away from the familiar routine of her daily life. Only four people knew where they were going—the two of them, Sam Dundee and Elizabeth Mallory, the woman who owned the cottage where they'd stay for the next two weeks.

Nick wondered what would happen when they got to Sequana Falls, Georgia. How was he going to spend two weeks alone with a woman he desperately wanted, without seducing her into his bed? He'd never been in this predicament before, wanting a woman who needed more than temporary pleasure from him. Addy wanted him to prove himself to her, and the only way he could bed her and walk away without feelings of remorse and guilt was to give her what she wanted. Somehow, some way, he had to prove to Addy that she and she alone meant more to him than anything else on earth. Since he was fast coming to feel that way about her, he figured there had to be a way to prove it.

Addy's ex-husband had used her and abused her, emotionally if not physically. She was afraid to give herself to another man, unsure of his motives. Because of past experience, she'd come to the conclusion that men who showed an interest in her were after Rusty's money. Hell, he didn't give a hoot about her father's millions. If he'd wanted to marry for money, he could have done so more than once over the years. He bedded women who attracted him, women who turned him on. He had enough money to meet his needs. He neither wanted nor needed more. But he did want Addy McConnell, and he needed her, needed her in his arms, in his bed and in his life, as he had never needed another woman. Once he'd had her, it was going to take a lot of long, slow loving … a lot of hot, wild mating … to get enough of her to satisfy his craving.

"What are you doing lurking out there in the hall?" Addy closed the suitcase lid, zipped it, then set it on the floor beside her bed.

"I wasn't lurking." Nick stepped over the threshold and into her room, instantly feeling as if he'd entered a forbidden zone. "I was just watching you pack. Are you sure you got everything you need in one bag?"

"It's a big bag." She sat down on the edge of her pencil post mahogany bed. "Besides, you said to pack light."

"I've never needed more than one suitcase." He glanced at her, noticing how at ease she seemed alone in her room with him.

"You've been traveling most of your life, haven't you?" She crossed her legs at the ankles.

Nick couldn't take his eyes off her legs, her long, slim legs that beckoned for his touch. "I don't own a house or even rent an apartment. I didn't need one when I was in the Navy, and when I was between DEA assignments, I'd either visit my grandmother in El Paso, get a hotel room or stay with my buddies Nate Hodges in St. Augustine and Sam Dundee in Atlanta."

"You've never mentioned Nate Hodges before. How long have you been friends?"

"Since SEAL training in Coronado." Nick's dark eyes glazed over with memory. "We were both a couple of eighteen-year-old half-breeds running from lives we hated, hoping to find something worthwhile. What we found was a living hell in Nam."

Addy wanted to run to Nick, to throw her arms around him and hold him close. She could tell by the tone of his voice, more than the words he spoke, that he was so alone, that he'd been alone all his life—a man always on the outside looking in. She longed to bring him inside, into the warmth and caring in her heart, to show him that he never had to be alone again.

"Daddy was in Korea. He never talks about it. He has this old-fashioned notion that women should be protected from life's harsher realities." Her father had tried, unsuccessfully to protect her mother. Sometimes she wondered if Rusty and Madeline had shared more of the agonizing pain and ugly reality of what had happened to their son would her mother have grown stronger instead of weaker in the years following Donnie's murder.

"Women experience most of life's harsh realities," Nick said, leaning against the colonial blue wall near the door. "No matter how much a man wants to protect his women, sometimes he's powerless. I think that's how your father feels now."

"He trusts you to keep me safe." Addy stood up, walking over to face Nick directly. "And I trust you."

Damn, how he wanted to pull her into his arms, to taste her sweet mouth, to feel the sleek leanness of her body. "No need to set your alarm clock. I'll wake you at three-thirty, and we'll hit the road by four." He didn't dare stay near her a minute longer, with those bewitching green cat-eyes of hers casting a spell over him.

When he turned to leave, Addy caught his hand, lacing her fingers through his. "Sleep tight then."

Bringing her hand to his lips, he brushed a feathery kiss across her knuckles. He could feel himself tightening, his whole body preparing for a feast to which he hadn't been invited. "Two weeks, Red, and if we're lucky, this will all be over."

"If we're lucky—" she whispered, then released his hand and stood back, watching him walk out of her room and close the door behind him.

Nick felt like beating his cane against the wall or smashing his fist through a window. He hadn't been this horny in years, and in the past, all it would have taken to ease his pain was a willing woman. This time nothing would give him relief except emptying himself into Addy McConnell's receptive body.

The grandfather clock struck midnight. Nick flipped on the bedside lamp, hauled himself out of bed and slipped into his faded jeans, forcing the zipper up over his arousal. He couldn't sleep. Hell, he couldn't even get any rest. Addy was in the room next to him, probably wearing one of her silky nightgowns and sleeping like a baby. She'd told him that she wasn't any good at sex. He didn't believe it. That bastard ex-husband undoubtedly didn't know the first thing about arousing a woman as sensitive and untried as Addy. If only she'd give him half a chance, he'd prove to her what a sensuous creature she really was; he'd give her unbearable pleasure and teach her how good it could be between them.

Retrieving his cane from where he'd propped it against the nightstand, Nick made his way across the room and out into the hall. Addy's door stood open. They both kept their doors open at night so he could hear every sound. Just in case.

Moonlight poured in through the Federalist-style fan-lights above the double French doors that flanked each side of the fireplace in Addy's bedroom. The waxed pine floors glistened in the muted light, and the rich reds and blues in the scattered Oriental carpets gleamed like jewels.

Nick stepped inside. Addy lay in the middle of the big bed, shadows of the crocheted canopy drawing lines across her face. She had neatly folded back the white bedspread, laying it over the patchwork sampler quilt that graced the foot of her bed.

He didn't want to wake her, but he had to see her, to look at her. Despite the air-conditioned coolness in the house, Nick felt hot. Beads of perspiration dotted his upper lip and a trickle of sweat ran down his throat, getting lost in the mat of black hair that covered his upper chest.

Without warning, his foot banged into something in the semidarkness. He cursed the object, swearing softly under his breath. Looking down, he saw a brass pot filled with red geraniums near the window. If the damned pecking of his cane hadn't awakened Addy, then maybe his bumbling crash into the flower container hadn't, either.

"Nick?" She sat up in bed, throwing off the thin blue sheet that covered her.

"Sorry, Red. I didn't mean to awaken you. I—I thought I heard something," he lied. "I just wanted to check things out. Go back to sleep."

"I wasn't asleep." She slid her legs over the edge of the bed, allowing her feet to touch the floor. "I'm so restless that I can't sleep."

He took a good look at her then and wished he hadn't. She wore a teal-blue satin chemise that barely touched the top of her thighs. He sucked in his breath, calling on all his willpower not to reach out and grab her. Her curly red hair hung loosely about her shoulders and halfway down her back. Tousled and unkempt, it looked as if some man had been running his fingers through it. Dear God, that was exactly what he wanted to do. But he wouldn't stop with her hair—he wouldn't stop touching her until he had covered every inch of her body and counted every little copper freckle.

"I should go and let you try to get some rest. We've got a long drive ahead of us tomorrow."

Addy picked up her teal-blue lace kimono that she'd tossed across the nightstand. Easing into it, she stood. "Don't go." She took a tentative step toward him. "Stay."

"Bad idea, Red." Nick turned from her, starting toward the door.

"Please, don't go, Nick. Stay and … talk to me." She moved closer, her hand hovering over his back, almost touching him.

Keeping his back to her, he drew in a deep breath. "If I stay, Red, I'm going to do a lot more than talk."

"Oh." She trusted Nick with her life. She had even admitted to her father that she was falling in love with the man. But was she ready for them to make love?

"It's going to happen sooner or later, but there's no need for us to confront it tonight. There'll be time enough when we're alone in an isolated cabin in the middle of the Georgia mountains." He moved forward, taking a step out into the hall.

Addy followed him, touching his back with the palm of her hand. She felt him stiffen. His naked back was sleek and damp and warm. Her hand burned from the physical contact of flesh against flesh. "Don't leave me, Nick. Stay. Stay and prove to me that—"

"Prove to you that I want you more than I've ever wanted another woman? Prove to you that you're all that matters to me?" He turned around slowly, knowing that once he faced her there would be no turning back, knowing exactly what he was going to do and how he was going to prove himself to her. He prayed that he had the willpower to be the man Addy needed tonight.

She looked at him with big, hungry eyes, the expression on her face a mixture of longing and uncertainty. "I don't want to disappoint you."

He threaded his fingers through her hair, then gripped the back of her neck. "Don't you know that there's no way you can disappoint me? Just be yourself, Addy. Be the warm, loving and sensitive woman you are."

"What if—if—"

He moved his hand down her back to her waist, hauling her up against him. The sound of her indrawn breath when her soft body met his hard arousal fueled his hunger, increasing his determination to give this woman—his woman—unforgettable pleasure. "We're going to take things slow, Red. Slow and easy. I'm going to touch you and you're going to touch me, and we're going to make each other burn."

Gerald had always been in a hurry to find a quick release, never caring whether or not he gave her any pleasure. "But you're already aroused. You won't want to wait."

"That's where you're wrong." He touched her lips with his, but didn't actually kiss her. She sighed into his mouth. He drew in her sweet breath, running the tip of his tongue across her bottom lip. "I've never wanted anything the way I want you. Making love is best when it's not rushed, when you take your time and savor every delicious moment. Especially the first time."

"No one has ever made love to me before."

Gut-wrenching pain twisted his insides. He vowed that he would never hurt her, no matter how much he had to suffer. He would give Addy what no man had ever given her—ecstasy. "I'm going to make love to you, Red. And you're going to make love to me."

"But, Nick, I don't know how. What if—"

He kissed her, a gentle yet thorough kiss. Withdrawing his mouth from hers, he said, "Sometimes it's better not to talk so much. Stop talking, stop thinking and start feeling."

He walked her, backwards, toward the bed. His big hand never left her waist, his arousal stayed pressed against her belly and his lips kept brushing hers as the two of them moved slowly, inch by inch, making their way across the room.

Nick leaned his cane against the nightstand, then took Addy by the shoulders, carefully sliding her kimono down her arms and off her body. He tossed it to the floor. "I love the way your body is made, Red. All long and lean and sexy."

"I'm not—" She saw the look in his eyes, that look that said she'd better not disagree with him. "I've never thought of myself as sexy."

"You're the sexiest thing I've ever seen." He placed his hands on her upper arms, moving his fingers in gentle caresses downward, stopping at her fingertips. Slipping his fingers between hers, he stroked her.

She leaned into him, sighing at the unexpected pleasure his seemingly innocent touch created within her. "Nick?"

He ran his hands up and over her back, pausing briefly before cupping her buttocks. "You've got such a tiny waist and such a firm, tempting little butt."

He'd told her to stop talking and start feeling, but he hadn't stopped talking, and every word he said was driving her crazy. Did he know what he was doing to her? Was he aware of how arousing his words were?

Lowering his head, Nick took one tight, little nipple into his mouth while he continued kneading her derriere. Addy moaned when spirals of heated sensation darted outward and downward, pulling on her femininity, plucking the strings of a heretofore unknown passion. Instinctively, she raised her leg, brushing it against his, rubbing him intimately. He slipped his hand beneath her chemise, touching her stomach, then easing around to cup her naked behind.

For one heart-stopping moment, Nick thought he was going to lose it. All he could think about was ramming himself into her, seeking and finding the sheathing heat of her body, emptying himself and gaining relief for his unbearable ache. "I want to see you, all of you."

When he tugged her chemise upward, Addy placed her hands over his, momentarily halting him. "You'll think I'm skinny, that my breasts are too small, that my freckles are ugly."

"Damn!" Nick spit out.

Addy pulled away from him. He reached out, jerking her to him, taking her mouth with bruising force as he thrust his tongue inside her welcoming warmth. Heaven. That's what it was to be inside her. Sheer heaven. She didn't resist the fury of his kiss or the roughness of his hands as they skimmed her body, finally pulling her chemise up and over her head.

With his lips still touching hers, Nick gave her a gentle shove backward, tumbling her onto the bed. He came down with her, half on top of her, half beside her. "I'm not your ex-husband, Red. I'm no fool. I know that having a woman like you to care for me is worth ten times whatever money your daddy has in the bank."

Tears filled her eyes. She wiped them away with the tips of her fingers. She lay there totally naked, Nick's big, aroused body partially covering her. "Look at me, Nick, and tell me what you see. And, please, don't—don't pretend."

Raising himself on one elbow, he gazed down at her, then swallowed hard. Addy McConnell was as sleek and lean as the most prized thoroughbred. Her arms and legs were long and covered with a light dusting of copper freckles. Her hips flared slightly away from her minuscule waist. Her breasts were small, but high and firm, topped with golden coral nipples. And the hair between her legs was as fiery red as the curls framing her pretty face. "You're beautiful, Addy. I've never seen anything more beautiful."

"Oh, Nick." She reached out, opening her arms and her heart. She believed he meant what he said. He really did think she was beautiful.

"And your freckles are gorgeous. As a matter of fact, I've had more than one fantasy about kissing every freckle on your body." He kissed each one on her face. "You've got a lot of freckles, Addy. It could take me hours to taste all of them."

She didn't know how long it took Nick to accomplish the task. Eventually she lost track of time, giving herself over completely to the hedonistic upheaval going on in her body. She'd never known that a man could give so freely, titillating a woman with his hands and mouth as if he wanted nothing more than to please her.

Addy's breasts became so sensitized that even Nick's breath on them sent chills of agonized longing through her. When he took her into his mouth, she cried out, writhing beneath him, pushing herself upward, begging for relief from the excruciating pressure building in the core of her body. While he continued to suckle her, he slipped his hand between her thighs. She opened for him. He slid two fingers inside her, testing her. She bucked upward, crying and groaning, pleading with him.

"Easy, Red, easy. I'm going to take good care of you." His fingers sought and found the pleasure point hidden within her.

With a steady, gentle pressure, he massaged her, all the while his mouth tugged greedily on one of her breasts and his thumb and forefinger pinched at her other puckering nipple. He could feel her body tightening. "That's it, Red, let it happen. Don't hold back. Give in to what you're feeling." When the first spasm hit her, Nick increased the speed and pressure of his fingers, bringing her to the pinnacle, intensifying her pleasure. She screamed, her voice a ragged, tormented cry of release. He soothed her trembling body, kissing her closed eyelids, her nose, her open mouth.

When her heartbeat slowed and she was able to breath again, she opened her eyes and looked up at him. "I've never … you made me—oh, Nick."

He took her mouth as he longed to take her body. But it was too soon. She wasn't ready, despite the fact that he'd helped her achieve her first orgasm. He couldn't bury himself deep inside and take his own pleasure. That was not the way to prove himself to Addy. But, dammit all, he had to take just a little something for himself, enough to keep him from going totally insane.

Lifting himself up, he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off his jeans. Beneath, he wore a pair of black briefs. Hesitating, he considered the consequences if he went ahead and stripped naked, if he disregarded the inner voice that warned him against such foolishness. With one quick jerk, he pulled the briefs down and off, then turned back to Addy.

She could see him in the moonlight, his big, bronze body poised over her. With more passion than knowledge, she touched him, circling his manhood with her fingers. He throbbed beneath her touch as she moved her hand up and down caressingly.

"Red, honey, you're going to have to stop that … sometime in the next few hours." His voice held a trace of humor.

"You like my touch?"

"Did you like mine?"

"You know I did."

He pulled away from her. She stared at him, puzzled. "If you don't stop, I'll lose it."

"I want you to lose it—inside me."

He thought he'd die. She was asking him to make love to her, completely, thoroughly. "Tonight's for you, Red. For your pleasure. If I take you the way you're asking, then I won't have proven anything to you."

She had to consider what he'd said for several minutes before she realized what he meant; then she smiled. "You've already proven everything you need to prove to me."

"I've got to prove something to myself." He kissed her savagely, then eased his tongue over her chin, down her throat and across her breasts to her stomach.

"Nick?" She felt the tremors of excitement building again, growing stronger with each swipe of his talented tongue.

"There's so many things I want to do to you, so many ways I want to make love to you." He lifted her hips in his big hands, bringing her body upward so that he could taste her. She tried to pull away. He held fast. "Let me, Red. Please, let me."

She gave in to his plea, never realizing the earth-shattering rapture that awaited her. She became lost in a fog of sensation where the world centered on Nick's mouth and her pulsating flesh. With uncontrollable convulsions Addy's body took the pleasure Nick gave her, rejoicing in each pounding quake of fulfillment.

Afterward she clung to him, weeping warm, salty tears of joy. When he pulled away from her, she reached out, grasping at air. He stood, then picked up his jeans and cane.

"Nick? What are you doing?"

"I'm going to take a shower, Red. I can't stay. If I do, I'm going to ram myself into you so hard, I'll rip you apart."

"Don't leave me. Stay. I want—I want us to really make love. I want you to—"

Nick turned and left the room. Addy lay there feeling satisfied and yet unfulfilled. Why had she ever told Nick that he'd have to prove himself to her? And why was he being so stubborn? The only thing she could figure out was that her father had been right. Nick Romero was falling in love with her and he didn't even know it. No man would put himself through such torment to prove himself worthy of a woman he didn't love.

Addy heard the shower running. She smiled. With a confidence born of her newly awakened feminine powers, she slipped out of bed and made her way down the hall to the bathroom. The door wasn't locked. Obviously, Nick didn't think she'd follow him. But he was wrong.

Moving as quietly as she possibly could, Addy crept toward the shower, eased open the glass door and stepped inside.

"What the hell? Addy?"

Without saying a word, she bent to her knees in front of him. The tepid water poured down over them. Nick reached out, taking her by her shoulders. "Get up, Red. You don't have to do this."

"I want to do this," she assured him, and proceeded to prove to him just how much.

Chapter 9

« ^ »

The hazy, muted light of dawn spread across the eastern horizon like distant candlelight seen through gauze curtains. The hum of the Bronco's motor kept time to the dull drone of the four-wheel drive's big tires as they moved over the asphalt roadway. Nick glanced in his rearview mirror. The nondescript brown sedan was still there. He had first noticed the car when they drove through Paint Rock, a wide-place-in-the-road town not too far outside of Huntsville. It was possible that the driver was simply headed in the same direction they were; it was also possible that he was following them.

Nick heard Addy sigh. Looking down at her head resting against his shoulder, he readjusted his arm that was draped around her. She'd been asleep for the past half hour. She needed rest. Neither of them had slept much last night.

When he thought about what had happened—and he hadn't been able to think of much else—he could hardly believe it. Not only had he made love to Addy more unselfishly than he'd ever made love to any other woman, but he experienced a kind of satisfaction he'd never known. He'd never felt so much like a man, never felt so strong as when he'd brought Addy to completion. Not once, but twice. Her cries of fulfillment had given him a precious pleasure. But when she had come to him in the shower, showing him how much she trusted him, how much she cared for him, he had been humbled and weakened by her generosity and love.

The very thought of her hands circling, her tongue tasting, her lips caressing, her mouth taking, hardened his manhood to an uncomfortable rigidity. Tonight… Tonight they would make love completely. He'd bury himself so deep inside her that he'd become a part of her, and then she would truly be his—his woman, in a way no other woman had ever been.

Just past the outskirts of South Pittsburg, Tennessee, Nick turned the Bronco onto the on-ramp of Interstate 24 and headed straight into the morning sun, which had just appeared, flashing its dazzling golden light like a wealthy woman displaying her array of diamond jewelry. Addy snuggled closer to his side; Nick ran his hand up and down her arm. God, he loved the feel of her. Lean and sleek, yet utterly soft and feminine.

He glanced in the rearview mirror. The brown sedan exited the on-ramp. Only a cherry-red Pinto separated the other car from the Bronco. Still a coincidence? Nick wondered. Maybe, maybe not. He'd wait and see. Before they went through Chattanooga, he'd have to find out one way or the other.

He didn't want to bother Addy with any undue worry, but if he had to make a hasty detour to discern the motive of the sedan driver, then he'd have to forewarn her. Although he'd found out just how strong and resilient Addy McConnell was, he knew that she had a breaking point. Everyone did. He wanted to get her to Georgia, to their private sanctuary deep in the mountains, where she would feel safe and secure … where they would have two weeks of undisturbed lovemaking.

Addy opened her eyes. Sunshine streamed through the Bronco's windows. She shut her eyes tightly, blocking out the blinding light. When she squirmed against Nick, he petted her, his big hand moving up and down her arm. She sighed, breathing in the clean, masculine scent that was Nick Romero—the man she loved.

Prizing her eyes open a second time, she squinted, then lowered her lids half closed and looked up at Nick, who was totally absorbed in driving. He was a man who concentrated on the task at hand, giving it his complete attention. Last night he had given her his thorough devotion, proving beyond a shadow of a doubt how much she meant to him. Recalling what he'd done to her—for her—sent tingling, reminiscent sensations spiraling through her body. He had made her feel everything, teaching her what a sensuous woman she was, proving to her how wrong Gerald had been about her. Nick made her feel needed … desired … beautiful.

If she lived to be two hundred, she would never forget going to him, slipping into the shower beside him and loving him as erotically as he had loved her. She had acted purely on instinct, driven by desire, prompted by love.

When Nick had reached fulfillment, his body had trembled with the force of his satisfaction. And she had gloried in the knowledge that she had given him pleasure. The experience had been raw, primitive, totally physical. The aftermath had been warm and tender and loving. Nick had dried them both, then walked her back to her bedroom and tucked her in, refusing to stay the few remaining hours of the night in her bed. She'd known he didn't trust himself not to make love to her again and again. It was what she'd wanted, but Nick wanted to wait. Tonight … ah, yes … tonight.

Closing her eyes, Addy slipped her arm around Nick's waist, giving him a gentle hug. "Where are we?"

Squeezing her arm, he glanced down at her, then returned his concentration to the interstate. "Crossing through the tip of Georgia. We aren't far from Chattanooga."

She raised up, moving slightly away from him. He removed his arm from around her and placed his hand on the steering wheel. Stretching, Addy yawned. "I didn't sleep very long then?"

"Less than an hour. You need more rest. You had a busy night last night." His lips curved into a smile as he remembered just what had kept them both so busy. Damn, how he would have liked to pull off the interstate, find a secluded stretch of road and take her hard and fast right there in the Bronco.

Addy saw him smile and felt a staining warmth in her cheeks. She punched him playfully on the arm. "Not as busy as it should have been." She couldn't believe she'd actually said that. What was happening to her? Loving Nick Romero, that was what was happening to her.

"Since we got some preliminaries out of the way last night, I'd say we were both ready to get down to some serious lovemaking tonight."

Addy laughed, the sound light, almost carefree. He'd done that for her, she thought. He was teaching her to enjoy herself, to trust her own instincts and give herself permission to play and have fun.

He hated the thought of having to tell her about the brown sedan, but he had no choice. They'd be in Chattanooga soon, and he couldn't allow the car to continue following them.

Noticing the pensive look on his face, Addy wondered what had caused it. "Are you worrying about your Jag? If you are, let me set your mind at rest. It's as safe as in Fort Knox in Daddy's garages along with his collection."

"Yeah, I'm sure it is."

"Daddy's still bothered by the fact that he doesn't know where we'll be," she said. "I could tell by the sound of his voice when we talked to him before we left."

"I'll call Sam every day, and he'll give your father a report."

"Daddy didn't like it when you suggested that it was best he didn't know too much, that way he couldn't accidentally slip up and tell Dina anything."

"I explained to Rusty why I felt that way." Nick glanced in the rearview mirror. Damn! He would have to make his move soon. "Dina might tell Brett Windsor, and I don't trust the guy. He might not be top on my list of suspects, but he's definitely still on the list."

"I think Brett is sweet—in a little-boy sort of way."

"Red, you don't need a sweet little boy, you need a hot-blooded man."

She ran the tips of her short, neatly manicured fingernails up the side of his neck, stopping to tease his earlobe. "And that's exactly what I have, isn't it, Mr. Romero?"

"Damn right." He clutched her knee, squeezing possessively, then slid his hand between her thighs. He wanted to find a way inside her tan slacks, inside her silk panties, to delve into the hot, moist depths of her body. But now wasn't the time or the place. Reluctantly, he returned his hand to the steering wheel.

"Look, Red, we're going to have to make a slight detour."

"Why?"

"A brown sedan has been following us ever since we went through Paint Rock. I've got to check him out. Understand?" He sneaked a quick glance in her direction. Her smile disappeared.

"Do you think … I mean, could it be … him?" Cold, numbing fear clutched her pounding heart and spread icy tendrils through her stomach.

"I don't know." Nick saw the sign that read Tiftonia exit. It would be one of the last exits before reaching downtown. Easing into the turning lane, he slowed the Bronco.

"What are you going to do?"

"See if he follows us."

"And if he does?"

"Confront him."

She sucked in a deep breath, then let out a long, slow sigh. "That could be dangerous."

"It would be even more dangerous to let this guy find out where we're going." Nick exited the interstate. The brown sedan did the same. Damnation!

"Did he follow us?" Addy started to turn her head.

"Don't look back. I can see him in the mirror. He's right behind us."

Nick saw a service station a few yards away. There were no cars around. The place looked deserted. He couldn't tell whether it hadn't opened for the day or if it had recently gone out of business.

Nick whipped the Bronco into the service station, then cut the motor. Opening the glove compartment, he reached inside and pulled out a .38 revolver. He saw the startled look in Addy's green eyes and wished to high heaven he didn't have to put the gun in her hands.

The brown sedan pulled in, parking on the other side of the station.

"Take this," he said, handing it to her.

Addy glared at the gun as if it were a live snake. With trembling hands she reached out, accepting the deadly weapon. "I don't know how to use this thing."

"Don't aim it unless you intend to use it. If your target is at close range, all you have to do is pull the trigger and you'll hit him somewhere. Just keep shooting until you empty the gun."

"Nick, you're frightening me. You're talking like you won't be coming back."

Leaning over, he kissed her forehead, then gave her shoulders a sound squeeze. "This is just a precautionary measure, Red. I'm coming back just as soon as I find out who this guy is and what he wants."

Turning, Nick opened the door. Addy grabbed the back of his shirt. He glanced over his shoulder. "Please be careful," she said.

"Stay in the Bronco and keep the doors locked."

Addy watched while Nick opened the back of the Bronco, pulled his battered suitcase toward him, unsnapped it and reached inside. He pulled out an automatic, and holding the gun in one hand and his cane in the other he approached the parked car. Addy held her breath. Seconds turned into minutes, minutes that seemed hours long.

She saw the car door open and a man emerge. From thirty yards away, Addy couldn't make out his features, but she could tell that he was shorter than Nick, with a stocky build. He hadn't pulled a weapon on Nick. That was a good sign. Then suddenly Nick punched the man in the chest with his cane. Addy's heart stopped. She gripped the heavy gun in her hands, her palms slippery with moisture.

"Dammit, man, I could have killed you!" Nick removed his cane from the man's chest. "Of all the stupid things for Rusty McConnell to do! I told him I didn't want any of Dundee's men following us."

"Mr. McConnell insisted. Hell, Nick, what was I supposed to do? The man is paying the bills, you know. Sam is working for McConnell, so that means I'm working for McConnell."

"Hugh, you should have checked in with Sam before you left. He would have counteracted Rusty's order."

"I'm sorry, Nick. I should have known you'd spot me." Hugh grinned, but Nick didn't. "As a matter of fact, I knew that you were on to me the minute you exited the interstate. That's why I pulled in here."

"There's a lady over there in that Bronco who's scared half out of her mind." Nick slipped the automatic into the back of his pants, anchoring it beneath his belt. "You get on your phone and call her daddy and tell him that his over-protective tactics didn't work, that all he accomplished was to frighten Addy. Then tuck tail and run back to Huntsville as fast as you can."

"Mr. McConnell is going to be madder than hell."

"I'm already madder than hell, Hugh. Who would you rather deal with, Rusty McConnell or me?" Nick spoke the words in a deep, even tone, yet each syllable dripped with menace.

"I get your point, Nick," Hugh said. "I'll call Mr. McConnell and tell him what happened. If he has any problems with my returning to Huntsville, he can call Sam."

"Good idea." Nick turned and walked away, leaving Hugh to jump back inside his brown sedan.

The moment she saw Nick walking toward the Bronco, Addy slid across the bench seat and unlocked the door. Nick bent down and got inside. Addy had a death grip on the revolver. Prying her hands loose from the .38, he placed it back inside the glove compartment, then pulled her into his arms.

"Oh, Nick—Nick—"

"Shh—shh— It's all right, Addy. Everything's fine."

"Who—who was he?"

"Hugh Talbot, one of Sam Dundee's men. Your father sent him to follow us."

She raised her head, her tear-filled eyes widening in surprise. "But you told Daddy that you didn't want anyone riding shotgun. Isn't that what you said?"

"Yeah, that's exactly what I said, but your old man had other ideas." Damn, he hated the way she was trembling, the way her voice quivered.

She clung to him, seeking comfort and reassurance. "I was so afraid something would happen to you, Nick. I—I couldn't bear it if anything happened to you."

"Nothing's going to happen to me, Red. And nothing is going to happen to you. We're going to the mountains for two weeks of seclusion." He tilted her chin, then gave her a quick, hard kiss. "And during those two weeks, we'll belong to each other, body and soul. I'm going to teach you to laugh and love and enjoy yourself."

"And what am I going to teach you?" Addy stared at him, her face filled with innocence, her eyes as starry bright as an adolescent girl's who'd fallen in love for the first time. Nick pondered her question. A sharp, foreboding chill raced up his spine. What was Addy McConnell going to teach him? That all women weren't mercenary whores or party-girl blondes who'd slept with more men than they could count? That there were women in this world a man could trust with his heart and count on when the chips were down?

"You're going to teach me how to make you happy, Red, because that's what I want more than anything."

The late-afternoon sun blazed hot and bright, dancing off the hood of the navy blue Bronco. Inside, Nick and Addy remained cool. He watched the road signs while she dozed on and off, fitful in her uneasy sleep. He hadn't been to Sequana Falls in years, not since the summer Elizabeth Mallory had been eighteen, shortly after she'd graduated from college. Sam's young ward was brilliant. Her genius had become apparent at an early age, even before Sam's older brother had married Elizabeth's widowed mother. How old was Elizabeth now? Nick wondered. Twenty-two? Twenty-three? And did she still possess the clairvoyant powers that had driven Sam Dundee to the edge of madness?

Addy had fallen asleep again shortly after they'd exited the interstate and started making their way along the Georgia back roads leading to the mountains. The closer they came to their destination, the cooler the climate. But even at the higher altitude, the July sun proved a relentless adversary. Thank God for air-conditioning. But if he remembered correctly, Elizabeth's great-grandmother's cottage didn't have air-conditioning. Hell!

He saw the sign. Dover's Mill. It wouldn't be long now. Dover's Mill was the last incorporated town before reaching Sequana Falls, which wasn't located on any map. It had been a small settlement deep in the mountains, where a family of Scotch-Irish settlers named Ogilvie had put down roots. Their youngest daughter, Sequana, had married a half-breed Indian. Elizabeth Mallory was their descendant. So in her veins flowed the blood of two ancient peoples—the Cherokees and the Celts.

Addy roused from her brief nap. Rubbing her eyes, she looked like a sleepy little girl. "I can't seem to stay awake."

"Traveling does that to some people," Nick said.

"How close are we to Sequana Falls?"

"Just a few miles."

"Sam must know this Elizabeth Mallory well to ask such a favor of her and to trust her implicitly." Addy rubbed the back of her neck and stretched her long legs out as far as she could in the confinement of the Bronco.

"She was his ward."

"From what I know about Sam Dundee, he doesn't seem the type to take on such a personal kind of responsibility."

"You're right about that." Nick grinned, thinking about his old DEA buddy. Sam Dundee didn't make friends easily. He was a brooding, cynical sonofabitch whose keen mind and sharp instincts had won him the respect of every man who knew him. Few liked Dundee; all feared him. Nick would match his own warrior's skills against anyone's, but in a fight he'd sure as hell want Sam Dundee and Nate Hodges on his side. Luckily for him, the two men were his best friends.

"Why did he?" Addy asked.

"Why did he what?"

"Why did Sam Dundee accept the responsibility of a ward?"

"His older brother, James, married Elizabeth's mother when Elizabeth was just a kid. James and Sandra died when Elizabeth was around twelve or thirteen." Up until his brother's death, Nick had seldom heard Sam talk about his family. But on occasion, usually after several drinks, Sam would mention Elizabeth. Nick wondered if Dundee had ever sorted out his feelings for the girl.

"How tragic, for all of them."

"Yeah." Nick maneuvered the four-wheel drive off the main highway and onto a stretch of gravel road. "Here's the turn-off to Sequana Falls."

"The road isn't even paved," Addy said, as she felt the jostling movements of the Bronco as it traveled over an uneven assortment of pebbles and rocks.

"This place is totally isolated. That's why it's perfect for our needs."

Addy stared at the towering trees, tall, majestic and ancient, that lined their pathway to Sequana Falls. Sunlight dappled down through the thick foliage, spattering shadows and shimmers across the road. The silence was eerie. After more than five miles, a clearing appeared. A cluster of small cabins lay on either side of them. They passed by, leaving the cabins behind. Another mile into the deep woods, a smaller clearing appeared. Set dead center was a circular driveway in front of an enormous, sprawling, two-story log cabin. A gigantic porch circled the house.

"This is Elizabeth's home." Nick pulled the Bronco up in front, directly behind an old, mud-splattered jeep.

"Where's our cabin?"

"Deeper in the woods, if you can believe it. And Elizabeth refers to her great-grandmother's house as a cottage, not a cabin."

"It's not a cabin?"

"The last time I saw the place it was painted white. It looked as out of place in these woods as we do."

Nick climbed down out of the Bronco. Addy didn't wait for him to make his way around to her side. Opening the door, she jumped down.

"Y'all made good time," a young woman standing on the front porch called out to them. "Welcome to Sequana Falls."

Addy shaded her eyes from the hazy afternoon sun. Looking toward the sound of the rich, melodious voice, she saw one of the most stunning women she'd ever seen in her life. Elizabeth Mallory's hourglass figure could not be disguised in the faded denim shorts and pale apricot cotton blouse. She was barefoot and braless. Her breasts swelled together like round, ripe melons.

Addy moved closer. Elizabeth descended the wooden stairs leading down from the wraparound porch.

"Elizabeth, let me introduce you to—" Nick said.

"Adeline McConnell," Elizabeth finished his sentence. "I'm so glad you're here, Addy. I hope Sequana Falls gives you the respite from worry and sorrow that you're seeking."

"Thank you." Addy couldn't stop staring at the other woman, whose beauty was almost ethereal. Her light, golden complexion was flawless, her eyes a deep, pure blue and her rich, coffee-brown hair had been French-braided and hung in one long plait to her waist.

"I know you'll want to go straight to the cottage so you can settle in and freshen up." Elizabeth approached Addy, a warm smile of greeting on her lovely face. "But I'm expecting you to share supper with me tonight."

"That's not necessary," Nick said. "We don't want to impose."

"It isn't an imposition." Elizabeth extended her hand to Addy. "It's so seldom we have visitors."

Addy felt the strength in the other woman's grasp as they exchanged a handshake. Elizabeth gazed into Addy's eyes, showing a depth of compassion and understanding that puzzled Addy. "We'd be honored to join you."

Elizabeth released her hand. "That's settled then." Reaching into her shorts pocket, she handed Nick an elaborately carved antique key. "There's only one path in and out to Granny's cottage. The only way you can reach it is on foot."

"No problem." Nick nodded toward the Bronco. "We packed light. One suitcase each."

"You won't need many clothes while you're here," Elizabeth said, a twinkle of mischief in her big blue eyes.

"I'll have to come down to your cabin once a day to phone Sam," Nick said. "I hope that won't pose a problem for you."

"I look forward to hearing from Sam on a daily basis. He seldom phones and hasn't been here since last Christmas." Elizabeth turned back toward her cabin. "If you'd like, I can have O'Grady bring your bags later."

"Is that old rascal still alive?" Nick asked, remembering the withered old man who must have been at least seventy the last time he'd seen him.

"Not only still alive, but still strong as an ox and stubborn as a mule." Elizabeth's smile created a radiance about her, an invisible but highly sensory light. "He and MacDatho have gone fishing this afternoon."

"Who the devil is MacDatho?" Nick opened the back of the Bronco, pulling forward his tattered leather suitcase and then Addy's expensive paisley-print bag.

"Oh, that's right, MacDatho wasn't born the last time you visited here." Elizabeth paused on the top step, just before reaching the porch. "You remember my German shepherd, Elspeth, don't you? Well, MacDatho is her son, born only a year before Elspeth died."

Nick handed Addy her suitcase, then returned to the Bronco for his own. "We'll head on over to the cottage. I think we can manage these two pieces of luggage. No need to bother O'Grady."

Elizabeth stood on the porch, backing slowly into the cool shadows. "Follow the path behind the cabin. It will lead you straight to the cottage." Opening the front door, she paused briefly. "I'll see you both tonight."

During the ten-minute trek through the woods, Addy and Nick spoke very little. Nick was busy surveying the area, apparently sizing up how inaccessible the cottage would be to any unwanted visitors. Addy spent the time absorbing the beauty surrounding her. She'd enjoyed so many happy hours of her childhood playing on the vast lawns of Elm Hill, but she'd never been in the mountains before, in the middle of the woods.

Addy stopped in her tracks. Nick almost collided with her back. Wobbling slightly, he steadied himself with his cane.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Oh, Nick, look!"

He gazed off into the distance, at the small house that looked as if someone had dropped an A-frame Victorian dollhouse in the tiny clearing. The white paint was peeling slightly in spots, giving the structure an antique, weathered appearance. A rickety picket fence enclosed a neat little front yard.

"It's unbelievable," Addy said. "It's like something out of a fairy tale."

"Elizabeth calls it the honeymoon cottage because her great-grandfather had it built for her great-grandmother as a wedding gift, and they spent their honeymoon there and each anniversary for the next forty-some odd years of their lives."

Thoroughly enchanted, Addy walked toward the gate that hung open as if issuing an invitation. "There's something different about Elizabeth. I can't quite put my finger on it, but there's something—she's so serene … so…"

"Mystical?"

"Yes, mystical. You felt it, too, didn't you? What is it about her, do you suppose?"

"You mean you haven't guessed?" Nick followed Addy up the rock walk and onto the porch.

"Guessed what?" Addy paused, setting her suitcase down while she reached out for the key Nick held in his hand.

He gave her the key. "Elizabeth is a clairvoyant."

"You mean she can predict the future?" Addy grasped the key, half doubting, half believing Nick's assessment of Elizabeth Mallory.

"That's only one of her special powers," Nick said. "Just wait until tonight when you get the chance to know her better."

Addy inserted the key in the lock and turned the doorknob. She'd never known a clairvoyant and wasn't quite sure she believed in such a thing, but she knew one thing for certain. She definitely was looking forward to asking Elizabeth a few pertinent questions about the future.

Chapter 10

« ^ »

Cozy and old-fashioned, exuding homey warmth and tranquility, Elizabeth Mallory's kitchen smelled of cinnamon. Rustic wood blended with creamy beige paint on all the walls, and worn, faded red bricks covered the floor. A humid night breeze fluttered the aged lace curtains at the open windows.

Addy spooned the last bite of apple cobbler into her mouth, the melted vanilla ice cream coating the crust with a milky sauce. "You really shouldn't have gone to so much trouble for us."

"It wasn't any trouble," Elizabeth said, rising from the round oak table, her ankle-length blue skirt swirling around her legs. "Aunt Margaret made the cobbler this morning before she left for Dover's Mill, and O'Grady caught and cleaned the fish."

"I noticed that you still don't have any air-conditioning at the cottage," Nick said, glancing out the window facing the back porch. "You haven't put in any here at your house, either, have you?"

"The cottage is seldom used." Elizabeth sighed, the sound barely discernible, but the dreamy, faraway look in her eyes was quite visible. "It's really a honeymoon cottage, you know. The last honeymooners who used it were my mother and James Dundee."

"I know it's a lot cooler up here in the mountains, but July is hot, even here." Nick wiped a fine sheen of perspiration from his forehead.

"Things will cool off later." Elizabeth began stacking their dinner plates. "It's going to rain sometime after midnight." Placing the dirty dishes by the sink, she turned on the faucet.

Addy stood, removing the used silverware from the dark-blue place mats. "Let me help you clean up. It's the least I can do after you served us such a feast."

Pushing back his chair, Nick stood and grasped his cane from where he'd propped it against the side of the table. "I think now would be the ideal time for me to call Sam and check in."

"Trying to get out of helping with the dishes?" Addy asked, smiling.

"The call should take a while." Nick grinned at both women, who were giving him pleasant but condemning looks. "I'll probably finish up just in time for another glass of iced tea." Not waiting for a response, he left the kitchen, the tapping of his cane as it hit the wooden floor reverberating in the silent hallway.

Addy pulled her cotton blouse away from her damp body, fanning the material against her chest. "I hope you're right about the rain cooling things off."

Elizabeth slipped the glasses and silver into the sudsy dish water. "Here in the mountains rain always brings relief from the heat. It's seldom this humid—only just before a storm."

"You're sure about the rain, aren't you?"

"I'm sure."

Addy pulled a glass from its watery bed, enclosing it in a soft, well-worn dish towel. "Nick said that you were … clairvoyant."

Elizabeth's laughter was warm and throaty, the utterly feminine sound mesmerizing. Addy stared at the beautiful woman standing beside her and saw the knowledge that lay in the depths of her pure blue eyes.

"Are you curious, Addy? Wondering what I know about you?"

"I'm being rude. Please, forgive me." A dim flush of embarrassment colored Addy's cheeks.

"You weren't being rude, just curious. And there's nothing to forgive." Elizabeth laid the clean cobbler dish on the drainboard. "We'll let the rest soak. Why don't we go sit on the back porch for a spell?"

Addy dried her hands and followed Elizabeth out onto the wide wooden back porch, which was simply an extension of the front and side porches. Several sturdy wooden rocking chairs were lined up against the south wall. Each woman sat, rocking her chair toward the center until they faced each other. Elizabeth reached out, taking both of Addy's hands into her own.

"You've come to Sequana Falls for two weeks, to wait out a danger that exists for you in Huntsville." Elizabeth smiled when Addy gasped. "I didn't gain this knowledge from second sight, my friend. Sam filled me in on the pertinent details."

"Oh."

"You'll leave here before two weeks," Elizabeth said, running the pad of her thumb over Addy's knuckles. "The reason is unclear … but … your father—your father will need you."

Addy felt her heartbeat accelerate, wondering if she dare believe this winsome young woman's prediction. "There's no way you could know who—I mean someone is plotting against us … my father and his company."

"I do not know the identity behind the threats." Elizabeth patted Addy's hand, then gave it a tight squeeze. "I have no control over the knowledge that comes to me and don't understand why some things are so clear in my mind and other things are obscured."

Addy pulled away, Elizabeth relinquished her hold. "It's a little cooler out here. If only the breeze wasn't so warm and humid."

"Do you like flowers, Addy? If you do, I'll show you my greenhouse one day while you're here. I grow my own herbs and spices, too, but my prize possessions are my roses."

"I love flowers, and I'd like very much to see your greenhouse. I'm sure Nick and I will get bored with all this peace and quiet after a few days."

A shuddering boom of distant thunder echoed in the moonlit stillness, followed by a sharp zigzag of lightning that dimmed the moon's pale glow. Addy looked up. Dark clouds ambled slowly across the sky.

Neither woman spoke. Only the vibrating resonance of the wooden rocker rounds mating with the wooden porch floor broke the hushed silence. Seconds became minutes and the moments floated away like dandelion fluff on a windy day.

Addy's mind drifted, absorbed with thoughts of the hours to come. Tonight she would be alone with Nick. She already knew that she would give herself to him, but what she didn't know was if they had a future together. She wondered if Elizabeth really could predict. Not moving a muscle in her face or neck, she glanced at the other woman.

"You don't have to be afraid of him." Elizabeth's soft voice carried on the nighttime air, like a soothing whippoorwill's song. "You're right about him, Addy. Nick Romero is your paladin—and you are and always will be his woman."

Addy felt the words surround her heart, freeing her doubts, but before she could reply, asking the questions that filled her mind, an enormous animal came bounding out of the darkness, leapt up the porch steps and made his way to Elizabeth's side. Addy cringed at the sight of the hairy creature, his keen amber eyes glowing, his sharp teeth visible as he panted heavily.

Elizabeth ran her fingers through the thick pelt of black fur, and the huge animal dropped to his haunches, apparently savoring her affectionate touch. "This is MacDatho. He won't hurt you. He knows you're my friend."

"What—what is he? I thought you said he was a dog."

"He's half German shepherd and half wolf." Elizabeth continued stroking her pet, speaking to him in a low, whispered voice. When MacDatho lowered his head to the floor and closed his eyes, Elizabeth turned to Addy. "You love Nick, but he has not yet put the proper name to his feelings for you. He will."

"Are you saying that Nick loves me?" Addy wished she could believe wholeheartedly in Elizabeth Mallory's power to foretell the future. But would she be a gullible fool if she did?

"It is destined." Closing her eyes, Elizabeth began rocking again. "You and Nick will share a life of deep love and commitment. I see—I see little girls."

"Little girls?" Addy scooted to the edge of her seat, completely ignoring MacDatho when he raised his head, his topaz gaze riveted to her face.

"Yes. Two little girls. Not twins, but very much alike … except— One has fiery hair and black eyes. The other has black hair and green eyes."

"Our children? Mine and Nick's?" Did she dare believe in this voodoo, this witchcraft? With all her heart and soul she longed to believe.

The back screen door opened. Loud, earsplitting thunder rumbled. Sitting up, MacDatho howled at the cloud-obscured moon.

"We'd better head back to the cottage, Red." Nick stepped outside. "I wouldn't want us to get caught in a downpour."

"It won't rain for hours," Elizabeth said. "How was Sam?"

"He's fine. You know Sam, a man of few words." Nick placed one hand on the back of Addy's chair. "He asked about you, Elizabeth."

Addy could actually feel the pleasure radiating from Elizabeth, like heat from a smoldering blaze. She could tell that Elizabeth cared deeply for Sam Dundee. Her certain knowledge of the other woman's feelings made her wonder how much Elizabeth's earlier comments had been based on natural instincts and how much on clairvoyance.

She saw my children, Addy reminded herself. Nick's children. Nick's little girls.

"Sam will call Rusty tonight and give him a report," Nick told Addy. "Daily reports should keep your father content."

Remembering Elizabeth's warning that they would return to Huntsville before the NASP contract was awarded because her father would need them, Addy said, "When you talk to Sam tomorrow, please find out if Daddy's all right. Ask him to tell Daddy to go for a checkup. I'm worried about his heart and his blood pressure."

"I'll relay your message." Nick circled her arm, urging her to stand. Addy looked up at him. Dark, hot passion blazed in the depths of his black eyes. Rising from the rocking chair, Addy accepted his extended arm, walking with him down the steps and out onto the pathway. Nick hesitated briefly, turning to say good-night to Elizabeth.

MacDatho howled again, his animal moan blending with the symphony of woodland night creatures. Thunder roared; lightning flashed. High atop the southern edge of the great Appalachian Mountains, Addy McConnell and Nick Romero moved toward their destiny. Tonight, the paladin would claim his woman.

The four-room cottage reeked with steamy heat, the humidity so high that Nick and Addy breathed in the heavy moisture. When they stepped inside, a splintering flash of lightning illuminated the living room. Nick took advantage of the momentary light to visibly scout out the kerosene lamp he knew was sitting on a round wicker table. Feeling his way across to the expanse of windows facing the porch, he found the book of matches lying atop the crocheted doily. Removing the globe, he struck a match and lit the wick. A soft, mellow radiance spread over the room with an ivory luster, casting dancing shadows on the earthy-green, antique wicker furniture, the pale creamy walls and the flowered cushions.

Nick looked at Addy standing just inside the doorway. Her topknot of thick red hair had begun to droop, fiery tendrils curling about her face and neck. Dewdrops of perspiration dotted her face, more abundant than the smattering of freckles that covered her nose. Her cotton blouse clung to her, outlining her tiny waist and high, firm breasts. Her billowy tan slacks hung loosely about her hips.

Tall and slender as a reed, Addy moved gracefully across the room. She possessed the very essence of nature—a fiery warmth, an earthy allure. The amazing thing, Nick realized, was that she had no idea how unbearably beautiful she was to him.

Tonight he would show her.

The wind picked up, swaying the treetops, pushing nearby limbs against the windowpanes. Addy and Nick watched each other, like two hungry animals preparing to attack. Sweat trickled down the curve of Nick's spine, his shirt and jeans absorbing part of the moisture.

Just thinking about Addy, just looking at her made him hard. He'd become aroused on the walk from Elizabeth's cabin. It would be so easy to take Addy quickly and ease his throbbing ache. But he wouldn't—he couldn't. Tonight was going to be a first for her, and he intended to make it a night she'd never forget.

He could see the desire in her eyes, and the uncertainty. She wanted him, but lacked the experience to give her enough confidence to tell him so. Before this night ended, Addy would have confidence. He was going to give her that … and a lot more.

Slow and easy. That's how it was going to be—the first time. Addy needed the steady, progressive stimulation to prepare her for the pleasure to come. Even if it half killed him, he was not going to rush this sexual adventure. It meant too much to her, and to him.

Propping his cane against the table, Nick began unbuttoning his shirt. He watched Addy staring at him, her gaze following his fingers as they slipped each button from its hole. "It's so damned hot. This place could use a few fans."

Addy couldn't take her eyes off Nick, off the bare expanse of chest that lay between the two sides of his open shirt. She wanted to touch him. But he was all the way on the other side of the room, and her feet refused to move. "A fan in the bedroom would be good on a night like this."

"All we need tonight is that old wrought-iron bed. It looks pretty sturdy, don't you think? Big enough for two." He tugged his damp shirt off his shoulders and flung it on the wicker rocking chair on his left.

Addy's heart hammered in her chest. The thought of sharing that antique bed with Nick sent shivers of longing through her. "I wonder why Elizabeth has never run electricity out here to the cottage? If she did, she could put in air-conditioning."

"This house is meant for lovers. An isolated retreat used by people who neither want nor need lights or telephones or televisions or radios." Nick ran his hand down his throat, wiping away the perspiration.

Retrieving his cane, he took a tentative step toward Addy. Not moving, she watched and waited. When he was within arm's reach, he touched her, his finger pressing against her bottom lip. She opened her mouth on a sigh. He slid his finger over her chin, down her throat and ever so slowly slipped it inside her blouse. "You're hot, Addy. Hot and sweaty."

"Maybe—maybe I should take a bath. That should cool me off." She gasped when his finger slipped up and down between her breasts, popping open the top buttons on her blouse.

"Maybe you have on too many clothes." He undid the remaining three buttons, then tugged her blouse out of her slacks, easing it from her body and tossing it atop his shirt. "Isn't that better? Cooler?" Her sheer yellow lace bra did little to conceal her breasts, the dark areolae visible, the tight nipples straining against the flimsy material.

She wasn't cooler; she was hotter. Nick's smoldering gaze scorched her. Erratic tingling sensations tightened her breasts almost painfully. She wanted Nick to touch her there, to put his mouth on her, to suckle her. Memories of last night reminded her body of what it meant to be pleasured by a man who truly cared, a man whose only purpose was to give his woman pleasure.

Dropping his cane to the floor, Nick ran his hands up and down her naked arms. She trembled. "Do you have any idea how much I want you?"

"Oh, Nick." She swayed toward him, hoping he would kiss her.

Thunder shook the cottage. Nick jerked Addy into his arms, one big hand splayed against her back while the other sought and found her bra's catch. White, jagged lightning lit up the night sky. The wind's velocity increased, wailing and moaning as it ripped through the trees and whistled along the side of the house. Nick pulled her bra down her arms and off her body, then rubbed his hard chest against her thrusting breasts.

She flung her arms around his neck, savoring the feel of their nakedness as her nipples stabbed into his chest hair. "Oh, Nick, how can you make me feel like this?"

"Like what?" He kissed her neck, his tongue snaking out to taste her. Moving his fingers between them, he undid the front closure of her slacks, then slid his hands inside, scooting her zipper downward several inches. He grasped her hips, forcing her soft delta into his arousal.

"Like—like I'm going to … explode."

Cradling her naked buttocks in his palms, he petted her. "We're both going to explode … over and over again tonight."

Mimicking his actions, Addy loosened his jeans and slipped her hand inside, positioning it over his manhood, touching him through the thin barrier of his briefs. He pulsated with life. "I never knew I could feel like this. That I could want someone so desperately."

"Do you want me desperately, Addy?" His deep voice was as dark and mysterious as the man himself.

"You know I do." She closed her fingers around him.

"Then prove it." Issuing the command, he prayed she would have the courage to obey.

"I—" She started to say that she didn't know how. But she did. Releasing him and stepping away, yet still facing him, she moved backward, her feet edging slowly toward the open door of the bedroom. She stopped in the doorway.

Nick watched her intently, the shadowy darkness from behind her occasionally lit by lightning and silhouetting her tall, slender body. Gripping the elastic of her yellow lace bikini panties, she slid them down her legs, then kicked them aside. She stood before him, beautifully, irresistibly naked. Her willowy body called to him, the fiery curls hiding her femininity, tempting his touch. The look in her eyes promised him unbearable pleasure, and he knew that Addy would never lie to him.

Removing his jeans and briefs, Nick followed her, his gait a slow, heavy limp. Addy walked toward the mullioned door that led to the porch, opening it to stare through the screen door out into the raging night sky.

Nick came up behind her, putting his arms around her and pulling her naked back and buttocks up against his chest and manhood. His big hands splayed across her belly, his fingers inching downward, downward, until they discovered the treasure hidden beneath her curls. His fingers petted her sensitive nub; her thighs opened and she moaned.

"You're wet and hot. You must want me. Do you, Addy? Do you want me?" His fingers played her, strumming her like an untried instrument on which he could make sweet music.

"Yes," she groaned. "Yes, yes."

He bit her neck, then soothed her flesh with his tongue. "Tell me how much you want me." While the fingers of one hand stayed busy at their task below her waist, he raised his other hand to cup her breast, his thumb flicking back and forth over her distended nipple.

Her knees weakened. She leaned back, resting her slowly dissolving body into his rock-hard frame. He throbbed against her. With a strength born of her passion, she pulled out of his embrace, turning slowly to face him. Her hand hovered over his manhood. She looked up into his desire-hot black eyes, knowing that he was hers, that she possessed as much power over him as he did her. The thought exhilarated her, filling her with the glory of her womanhood. Primeval, pagan urges flowed through her. She embodied the strength and power of femininity. Creation and life were hers.

Slowly, sensuously, Addy eased her hot, sweating body away from Nick. Opening the screen door, she walked onto the porch. A fierce, humid wind whipped her hair loose, flipping it around her naked shoulders like flames from a flickering torch. Nick stood in the doorway and watched her, totally mesmerized by her wild abandon.

She beckoned him to come to her. He obeyed. Bright lightning flashed. Sweat dripped from his big body like moisture from an icy glass on a hot summer day. His bare, bronze chest glistened, his small male nipples pebble-hard. Addy watched a trickle of perspiration clinging to his left nipple. She longed to put her lips on him, to curl her tongue around him and lick away that tiny wet droplet.

The moment he was within arm's length, she lowered her head, moving toward his chest. Her tongue flicked out, capturing the drop of sweat from his nipple. Nick moaned, then grabbed her, his mouth covering hers, his tongue thrusting into her in a parody of a more intimate act. She returned the kiss with all the passion, all the untamed longing she felt. Mouths captured, tongues ravaged, teeth titillated.

Nick dropped to his knees, burying his face in the delta between her thighs. He barely felt the warm, hard surface of the wooden porch beneath him. He was surrounded by the smell and taste of his mate—his woman. Running his hands from her hips to her thighs, he spread her legs apart. She swayed. Adjusting his head at an angle, he delved his tongue, seeking out her sweet nectar. He gripped her buttocks to steady her as her legs began to buckle. When she braced herself on his shoulders, he moved his hands around and up to her breasts, taking their soft, smooth weight. The constant pressure on her femininity and her nipples quickly drove Addy over the brink into a shivering, groaning climax. Nick soothed her as he brought her down to her knees in front of him.

She fell into his arms. The hot, damp air did little to cool their heated bodies. Their hands became wet as they touched each other, exploring one another's bodies as if they were new and uncharted territory. Tender kisses turned wild. Lips sought out every inch of slick, fiery flesh.

"I want it all, Nick," she moaned into his mouth. "I need you inside me."

Knowing he could never make it to the bedroom, let alone to the bed, Nick lay back on the porch floor, pulling Addy on top of him. Bracing her hands above his shoulders, she rubbed her body against his. He grabbed her hips, stopping her.

"Open up for me, Addy."

She spread her legs, pressing against his arousal.

"Now take me, Red. Take me!"

She raised her body, positioning herself. Nick grabbed her by the waist, then waited for her agreement.

"Nick?"

"Together, Red. Let's do it together."

And they did. In one swift, synchronized move they became one. Addy flung her head back, her long red hair cascading down her back, feathering across Nick's legs. He thrust up and into her again and again with a savage urgency that almost sent him tumbling over the edge. He slowed the pace, then stopped, allowing her to take over while he reached for her breasts.

The sensations were so intense that Addy couldn't stop herself from increasing the pace, riding him harder and harder until fulfillment burst inside her like a giant balloon of red-hot pleasure. She screamed out, her throaty voice echoing in the darkness, rivaling the resounding booms of thunder. Spasms of ecstasy shook her body; then she collapsed on top of Nick.

He gave her the time she needed to recover from the series of aftershocks that rocked her. She covered his face with kisses. He ached with his need, nearing the breaking point. With three hard, animalistic surges he found his own satisfaction. He spilled his seed into her with powerful, jetting release.

Addy clung to him, crying for joy at the sounds of his loud groans. She was Nick's woman; he was her man. Tonight they had come together, mating like beasts, unable to control their baser instincts. It had been savagely glorious and gloriously spiritual. Despite the very carnality of their lovemaking, their union had created an eternal bond. Addy knew, as surely as she knew her name, that she would never let Nick Romero go.

Easing Addy to his side, Nick raised up, gazing into the black sky, listening to the sounds of impending rain. "We'd better get inside, Red, before the bottom falls out."

They helped each other to their feet. Nick regretted that he couldn't carry Addy inside. With his bad leg and in his weakened condition, he might drop her.

Sensing his feelings of regret over not being able to carry her to their bed, Addy dashed toward the door. "Catch me!" she teased.

He laughed, realizing that she'd known how much he wanted to lift her into his arms and carry her. He followed her inside. She was bent over, pulling the quilt and top sheet down the antique iron bed that had been painted a dark moss green. Coming up behind her, he rubbed against her, then gave her a playful shove. She tumbled onto the bed and turned over quickly, spreading open her arms. "How long will it be before we can do it again?"

Lowering one knee on the bed, he leaned over her. She stared into his eyes. "I don't think it'll be too long. You wore me out, Red, but parts of my body are still raring to go."

She glanced down at that part of his body and smiled. "Someone told me that men past forty couldn't do it two times in a row."

He came down on top of her, sliding into her wet, tight sheath. "Someone told you wrong."

Chapter 11

« ^ »

Addy awoke to the sound of drizzling rain. Opening her eyes, she looked across the room to the unclosed door leading to the porch. Pellets of moisture had sprayed through the screen, dotting the wooden floor with raindrops. Reaching out for Nick, she found an empty space on the other side of the bed. She rolled over onto Nick's pillow, burying her face in the softness as she breathed in his unique scent that clung to the hand-embroidered case. She cherished every element that made Nick Romero who and what he was, even the lingering smell of his manliness mixed with her feminine fragrance.

Last night had been—magic! There was no other word to describe what had happened or how it had made her feel. Despite the fact that Nick hadn't proclaimed his love for her, not even in the throes of passion, Addy knew in her heart that he loved her. He might not be able to admit it to himself quite yet, but sooner or later he would face the truth. They were meant for each other, destined to be lovers. He was her champion, her paladin, the man she had waited a lifetime to love. And she was his woman, the only woman for him.

Addy wondered where he was. When she got out of bed, she remembered that she was stark naked. Smiling, she thought about her clothes and Nick's strewn about in the living room. Glancing across the bedroom to where Nick had placed her suitcase on the small French sofa, Addy debated whether to wrap herself in the lightweight quilt on the bed or to seek out her satin robe. She decided on the robe, quickly making her way across the room to her suitcase. Slipping into the floor-length, sea-foam green robe, Addy began searching for Nick. After a thorough check of the four rooms and bath, she returned to the bedroom and opened the door to the porch. Stepping outside, she felt the cool, misty spray of summer rain.

Nick stood at the edge of the porch, wearing only his jeans, unbuttoned and riding low on his lean hips. His body was coated with a fine sheen of moisture, his thick black hair curling around his neck and ears. He held a large ceramic mug in his right hand as he leaned against the banister railing with the other. He seemed totally absorbed in watching the rain.

When Addy approached him, he turned. The smile that lit his face quickened Addy's pulse. His eyes glistened with the look of beckoning temptation.

"Good morning, beautiful," he said. "You've slept half the day away."

She stood several feet from him, simply staring at him, thoroughly enjoying the sight of his big, bronze body—remembering every word, every touch, every sensation the two of them had shared. "I feel beautiful. You've made me beautiful."

"You were always beautiful, Addy." He put the mug to his lips, downing a swig of black coffee.

"Have I really slept half the day away? What time is it?"

"Almost eleven." He grinned, then nodded to his cup. "I've made coffee. Want some?"

"How did you make coffee? I didn't see anything in the kitchen except an old wood stove."

"Former SEALs and DEA agents are very capable. We're used to surviving under primitive conditions."

"You built a fire in the stove?"

Setting his mug on top of the banister, Nick walked toward her, limping heavily. Every nerve in her body alerted itself to his approach, sending tingles of excitement racing through her.

"I'm good at building fires." Leaning down, he took her lips in a good-morning kiss as passionately sweet and moist as the rainy Georgia day.

He threaded his fingers through the long, silky mane of her hair, cradling her head in his hand, drawing her closer and closer, deeper into his kiss. She skimmed the side of his face, letting her fingers caress his jaw. Gradually, he slowed the kiss, then rested his forehead against hers.

She traced his ear with her fingertips, circling the diamond stud sparkling in his lobe. "When did you get your ear pierced?"

He hit her playfully on the neck as he wrapped her in his arms. "While I was in the hospital. After I nearly lost my leg."

"What made you want to have your ear pierced?" She tongued his ear, then nuzzled the side of his neck.

"My hair got long and my beard and mustache grew, so I looked pretty scruffy there for a while. One of my nurses said I looked like a pirate, that all I needed was a gold hoop in my ear."

"You're very susceptible to suggestion, aren't you?" She gasped softly when Nick loosened the tie belt on her robe and slipped his hands inside, cupping her behind.

"Very. How about you, Red? Are you open to a suggestion?"

When he pulled her against his arousal, she sighed. "Was she pretty?"

"Was who pretty?"

"The nurse who talked you into having your ear pierced?"

Nick chuckled, sensing Addy's teasing remark displayed a certain amount of jealousy. "She was very pretty. Bosomy and blonde. And she didn't just talk me into having my ear pierced, she actually pierced it herself and supplied the gold hoop." He felt Addy stiffen. She tried to pull back, but he held her tightly. "You asked, Addy, and I told you the truth. I'll never lie to you."

"What—what happened to the gold hoop?" Addy hated the blond nurse and every other blonde who'd ever been a part of Nick's life.

He kissed Addy on the nose. "I gave the hoop back to her when I left the hospital."

"You've known a lot of women, haven't you Nick?" Addy felt a growing sense of uncertainty, wondering if she was a fool to believe that Nick loved her.

"I've never known anyone like you, Adeline McConnell."

"Is that good or bad?"

"Ah, Red, that's good—very, very good." He captured her reply, silencing her as he made love to her mouth with a thoroughness that left her breathless.

Through a hazy fog of passion, Addy realized that Nick was an expert at changing the subject to suit himself. She pulled out of his arms so quickly that his grab for her missed the mark, allowing her to escape into the bedroom.

Nick watched her disappear into the house, knowing that she was feeling a little insecure. She was new to this business of being a man's lover, new to the joys of sexual pleasure. Addy was the type who'd fancy herself in love, and a woman in love could be less than accepting of a man's past relationships.

He'd give her some time alone, but not too much time. If she started thinking too much, she'd start doubting herself again, and she'd doubt him, too. Finding his cane and their hastily shed clothing on the living-room floor, Nick retrieved his cane and gathered the assorted items. His shirt and briefs. Her blouse and slacks, bra and panties.

A few minutes later, he found her seated at the small kitchen table, a mug of steaming black coffee in front of her. When he entered the room, she glanced up at him.

"I suppose we should try to fix some breakfast." She glanced at the wood stove, which had already heated the room to a toasty warmth.

Leaning on his cane, he stood beside her. "How about a bear claw? There's a fresh pack in the cupboard."

"Fine. They'll taste great with coffee."

Nick pulled the package of danishes from the second shelf, ripping open the plastic and pulling out two of the sticky buns ladened with almond slices. They ate and drank in silence, each sneaking glances at the other.

"What would you like to do today?" he asked.

"What is there to do?"

"Oh, I don't know. A swim in the creek. A hike in the woods."

Addy nodded toward the window. "Have you forgotten that it's raining?"

"I guess we'll have to find something to do inside."

"I suppose so."

Nick pointed his cane at Addy. She stared down at the gold-tipped walking stick. He tapped her on the chest, between her breasts. She swallowed, her heartbeat accelerating rapidly. He ran the tip of the cane down her body, sliding it under her belt, loosening it until the front of her satin robe fell open.

Addy sucked in her breath. The gold tip felt damp and cool against her warm body. Moving the shiny lacquer rod slowly downward, across her stomach, hesitating momentarily at her navel, he positioned it between her thighs, rubbing it against her fiery curls.

"Nick…" Her voice vibrated with the urgency of her emotions.

"This cane was a gift from my friend, Nate Hodges." Nick continued stimulating her with the walking stick. "We were in the SEALs together for ten years."

Addy squirmed in the wooden chair, wanting to run from Nick, from the tormenting rod he'd positioned between her thighs, but she felt trapped by her own sensuality, her own wild desire. "Nick … please—"

"What is it, Red? What do you want?"

Moaning when he increased the tempo with which he was rotating the cane, Addy reached out, grabbing the stick, clutching it in her fist. "I want to take this cane and knock you senseless! You—you know what you're doing to me. You're doing it on purpose."

Jerking the cane away and out of her grasp, Nick smiled, then stood. He held out his hand. "Come on, Red. Let's go back to bed. You can knock me senseless without ever touching this walking stick."

"You're so damned sure of yourself, aren't you?" Addy glared at him, knowing that she wanted a repeat performance of last night as much as he did.

"I'm sure you want exactly what I want." He took her hand, tugging until she stood.

"And what do you want?" She refused to budge when he tried to pull her toward him.

"I want to take you back to bed, drag you beneath me and bury myself deep inside of you. I want to—" With one powerful jerk, he brought her into his arms and whispered into her ear, using hot, raw words to describe his needs, telling her in the most basic words a man can use precisely what he wanted.

Addy clung to him, her lips accepting his marauding mouth. Slowly, steadily, they made their way to the bedroom. By the time they reached the bed, both were flaming fierce and bright, both more than ready to burn themselves out quickly.

He lowered her to the bed, taking her with a swift, savage lunge that made her cry out from the intensity. Clutching his buttocks, matching him thrusting move for thrusting move, Addy gave herself to Nick, taking from him everything he had to give. The moment ended almost before it began, each hurled into the spiraling whirlwind of fulfillment. Breathless, sweaty and totally spent, they lay side by side in each other's arms, uncaring of the time, the weather or their whereabouts.

Days passed in a sensual blur of pleasure and happiness, unlike anything Addy had ever known. She didn't want her private time with Nick to ever end. Daytime melted into nighttime, each twenty-four-hour period losing its distinction as one week ended and another began. Life took on new meaning, each moment a joy to be shared. They learned to use the old wood stove together, preparing basic meals, not once sharing another feast with Elizabeth, although they visited her daily so Nick could check in with Sam Dundee.

They swam in the creek and played under the waterfall. They took long walks in the woods and spent endless hours talking, each totally fascinated by the other, yearning to learn every little detail. At night they sat on the porch, watching the fireflies and listening to the woodland creatures' nocturnal songs.

And they made love—morning, noon and night.

The only reminder of the outside world came when they visited with Elizabeth and made their mandatory phone call. All was well in Huntsville. Rusty's doctor had given him a thorough checkup, proclaiming him as fit as he could be for a man of seventy with a bad heart and high blood pressure. In four days the NASP contract would be awarded. Nick and Addy would leave Sequana Falls. And, hopefully, all danger would have passed.

A pleasant evening breeze rustled through the trees. Addy sat in the small porch swing; Nick sat on the floor, bracing his back against the banister. Twilight descended, painting the sky in various shades of purples, pinks and oranges. As far as the eye could see, vast woodland spread across the mountain, the smell of pine heavy in the air.

"Okay, you left the SEALs after ten years and started back to school." Sitting on one leg, Addy used the toe of her other foot to put the swing in motion.

"Yeah, I was a twenty-eight-year-old college kid." Nick propped his hands behind his head. "I'd decided I wanted to be a DEA agent and I needed more education. That's how I met Sam. He'd done a stint in the marines."

"So you and Sam went to school together, became friends and joined the DEA."

"That's about it. We both fit the bill, had most of the qualifications. Except Sam didn't speak a second language, so I taught him Spanish. Knowing a second language, especially Spanish, is a plus. And we'd both been in the service and already had some combat training, some knowledge of weapons. That sort of thing."

"Do you miss being an agent?" Addy wondered if Nick was the kind of man who simply couldn't settle down, who would always need danger and excitement in his life.

"Sometimes. It's a demanding, stressful job." He edged his way closer to the swing, shifting himself slowly across the porch. "They weed out the guys who haven't got what it takes in a fifteen-week training program at Quantico, Virginia."

"You had what it took, didn't you, Nick? You were physically and mentally a tough guy."

Rubbing his bad leg, Nick stared at Addy. "Well, that Uzi proved I wasn't as physically tough as I thought I was."

"Having a crippled leg doesn't make you any less of a man," Addy said, tempted to throw her arms around him and kiss away the pain she saw in his eyes. "I've never known anyone who's more a man than you."

Reaching out, he tickled the bottom of her bare foot. "You're prejudiced, Red. You're only saying that because I'm such a fantastic lover."

She giggled. "You are so conceited."

Holding her heel with one hand, he traced the veins atop her foot with his fingers. "You've made me conceited, panting after me all the time, dragging me off to bed all hours of the day and night, groaning and moaning and crying out when you come. What's a man to think, other than that he's a stud?"

Addy twisted her leg when Nick ran his fingers higher, caressing her calf. "All right, I'll grant that you're a stud—but…"

"But what?" He kissed her ankle, then ran his tongue all the way up her leg to her knee. Brushing aside her billowy cotton skirt, he slid his hand up her inner thigh.

"But you should give me some of the credit. After all, not just any woman could keep a forty-three-year-old man primed and ready all the time."

With both of them laughing, Nick pulled Addy out of the swing and down onto the floor and into his arms. "I think I've created a beautiful, insatiable monster."

"Am I your creation, Nick?" She unbuttoned his shirt and placed her lips on his chest.

Yes, by God, she was his creation. With his patience and tenderness and loving administrations, he'd given Addy the confidence in her own sexuality that she needed to become the woman who'd been buried inside her all her life. With each word of encouragement, with each reassuring, inspiring touch, he'd brought her out of the darkness to which her ex-husband had doomed her. She was his now. His woman … his heart, his soul … his very life.

When the time came, how the hell was he going to be able to take her back to Huntsville and leave her? He'd never been a man for commitments, always moving on when things got too serious. He wasn't the marrying kind, and Addy deserved no less. She'd want marriage and kids, if she could have them, and the kind of love that lasted forever. He didn't know if he was capable of that kind of love, of that kind of lifetime pledge. There was one thing she knew for sure—he hadn't had his fill of Addy, not by a long shot. He was nowhere near ready to give up what they'd found together. Nothing in his life had ever been this good.

"Nick? Nick, what's wrong?" She took his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her.

"Nothing's wrong, Red. Not a damned thing." He buried his face against her breasts, nuzzling her nipples with his nose. "You're my woman, you know that, don't you?"

She sighed, clinging to him, savoring the sheer physical pleasure of being so near the man she loved. "I remember the morning after you rescued me from my kidnapper, you told me that someday I'd become one of your women. Looks like you were right."

"I was wrong," he said, then covered her face with a dozen tiny kisses. "There's never been another woman like you, and there never will be again. You're unique. What I feel for you is different. You're mine—my woman—and I never want you to belong to anyone else."

"Oh, Nick—I love you so much. You must know that. Surely you've guessed." She could feel the rat-a-tat-tat of her heart drumming within her chest. She longed to hear him repeat the words, to vow his undying love for her, but she knew he wasn't ready, that she'd confessed her love too soon.

"Ah, Red. You mean the world to me. I—"

She covered his lips with her index finger, silencing him. "I'm not asking for anything you can't give. You've been honest with me. That's all I ask now and in the future. Don't ever lie to me, don't ever pretend something you don't feel."

"When I'm with you, I don't have to pretend anything. What I feel for you is real. I just don't know if it's love or not because I've never been in love." He kissed the tip of her finger, then drew it into his mouth.

"What about Dina?" Addy hadn't given Dina a thought in days, but she couldn't forget what the woman had once meant to Nick.

"I didn't love Dina, not the way you mean. My teenage male hormones loved her lush, little body."

"I've learned just how powerful sexual attraction can be. Do you think— I mean, is that what you feel for me?"

He pulled her close, pressing her head to his chest. "I've never felt such a strong physical attraction to a woman, but—there's more. A lot more. I enjoy being with you, Red. In and out of bed. I like you. I admire you. And I trust you more than I've ever trusted a woman,"

Lying in his arms, Addy smiled. Even if he didn't know it, even if he couldn't bring himself to consider the possibility, Nick Romero was falling in love with her. "I trust you, too. Not only with my life, but with my heart."

"If I could ever love a woman, it would be you."

"Is that a promise?"

"That's a fact, Red."

Tender touches and sweet kisses gradually turned to frantic groping and wild, tongue-thrusting lunges. Clothes disappeared and naked bodies appeared. Entangled limbs and damp, moist flesh mated in a savage, mindless dance of pleasure. Man and woman joined. Giving and taking. Finding release. Claiming ownership. Silently professing love in its most elemental form.

Nick heard the loud rapping on the door. Before Addy became fully awake, he'd already leapt out of bed and was feeling around on the floor for his jeans.

"What is it?" Addy asked.

"Somebody's at the front door."

They both heard the voice. "Nick? Addy? It's Elizabeth." Then a mournful wolf howl erupted from MacDatho.

"Oh, Nick, something's wrong!" Addy slid out of bed and pulled on her satin robe.

He wrangled with his rumpled jeans, finally getting them zipped. Picking up his cane, he walked over to the door, Addy right behind him. When he opened the door, Elizabeth ordered MacDatho to stay, then stepped inside, her flashlight casting a steady stream of light into the bedroom.

"I'm sorry to disturb you so late, but Sam called. He said to call him back immediately. It's urgent."

"Did he say what's wrong?" Addy asked.

"No, he didn't say." Elizabeth reached out, touching Addy's arm, giving her a reassuring squeeze.

"We'll get dressed and come on up to the cabin." Nick held the door for Elizabeth, who stepped back out onto the porch.

"Wait!" Addy cried. Elizabeth stopped. "Do you know what's wrong? Have you felt anything?"

"Your father needs you. That's all I know." Elizabeth turned and left, disappearing back into the woods, the ever-faithful MacDatho at her side.

In frenzied haste, Addy dressed in black slacks and a turquoise cotton sweater. She waited while Nick laced his shoes. "Elizabeth told me the day we arrived that we wouldn't stay here the full two weeks. She said then that Daddy would need me. Oh, Nick, do you suppose Daddy's had a heart attack or a stroke?"

"Don't jump to conclusions. We'll know what's going on as soon as I talk to Sam." Holding his cane in one hand, he offered her the other. "Ready?"

Fifteen minutes later, Addy clutched the cup of hot tea that Elizabeth had handed her the moment she and Nick entered her cabin. Nick had just gotten through to Sam. Three people and one half-wolf dog stood in Elizabeth's living room, waiting for news.

Elizabeth placed her arm around Addy's shoulder. "Drink your tea. It will help soothe your nerves."

"Did you put something in it?"

"It's herbal tea, that's all."

With trembling fingers, Addy put the cup to her lips, sipping slowly. The tea was hot and sweet and soothing.

"Yeah, I understand. When did it happen?" Nick asked Sam Dundee.

Addy handed her cup to Elizabeth, then approached Nick, tugging on his shirtsleeve. "Tell me, what happened?"

Nick slipped his arm around her shoulders, drawing her to his side. "There's no way I'll be able to keep her here," he told Sam Dundee. "We'll head back to Huntsville tonight."

"Nick?" Fear shook her like the impact of a high-powered rifle.

He held her tightly as he continued his conversation. "How's Hester?"

"Is something wrong with Jim?" Addy squeezed Nick's arm.

"I suppose Johnson is at the hospital," Nick said.

"Nick!"

"I'll be in touch as soon as we get there." Nick hung up the phone, turned to Addy, and pulled her completely into his arms. Tilting her chin, she stared up at him. "It's bad, Red. You're going to have to be strong for me and for yourself, but mostly for Rusty."

"Tell me, dammit, just tell me!"

"Your father and Jim Hester had a late dinner meeting tonight. When they returned to the M.A.C. executive offices, they were ambushed."

"Ambushed?"

"Your father's chauffeur-bodyguard was shot. He's dead."

"Alton's dead? My God, he's been with Daddy for years!"

"Jim Hester was shot, too." Addy tensed in his arms. "He's still alive. He's in surgery."

"What about Tiffany? Who's taking care of her?"

"Hester's sister-in-law has Hester's little girl with her."

Addy swayed, her legs buckling under her. Nick steadied her, then helped her to a nearby chair. Bending down on his knees in front of her, Nick prayed she was strong enough to handle the worst news. "The person or persons who shot Alton and Hester kidnapped your father."

"No! Oh, Daddy!" Slouching over, her shoulders drooping, Addy covered her face with her hands. "I was the target! They threatened me, not Daddy! I don't understand this. Why kidnap Daddy?"

"Dina received a call from the kidnapper," Nick said, pulling Addy's clenched fists into his hands, stroking her knuckles, trying to soothe her. "He wants you to withdraw the NASP bid."

"The NASP bid really is what he's after, isn't it? It's not a red herring like you thought." Addy stared at Nick, her eyes overly bright, glazed with anxiety. "It's Gerald. It has to be. But—but he'd know—he'd know I don't have the authority to withdraw the bid."

"Calm down, Red. If Carlton is behind Rusty's kidnapping, we'll nail him. I promise you." Nick couldn't bring himself to tell her that he still doubted the validity of the NASP bid threat, that his gut instincts told him that Rusty's kidnapping had another motive. Someone wanted Addy McConnell back in Huntsville, and they'd used the only conceivable method to ensure her return.

"What if he's already killed Daddy? They killed Donnie. Daddy paid the ransom and they still killed him."

Nick felt her panic. Grabbing her by the shoulders, he shook her soundly. "Don't do this, Red! Don't fall apart on me now."

Elizabeth stepped forward, her clear blue eyes focusing on Addy. "Your father isn't dead." Standing beside Addy's chair, Elizabeth touched her cheek. "Your father won't be killed. You will return to Huntsville and save him."

Nick swung around, glaring at Elizabeth. "She doesn't need to hear this."

"Yes, I do." Shoving Nick aside, Addy stood. "I've got to go back. We need to leave as soon as possible."

Grasping his cane, Nick followed her to the door, but couldn't keep up with her when she broke into a run once she'd entered the yard.

"Addy, stop!" Nick flung open the front door. "Dammit, woman, will you slow down!"

Elizabeth caught Nick by the wrist, halting him. "Keep her guarded, every moment. She's in danger."

"Don't you think I know that!"

"Her enemy is someone she knows."

Nick could hear the deafening roar of his heartbeat throbbing in his ears. "What else? You know more, don't you?"

"He means to kill her." Elizabeth's grip on Nick's arm tightened. "A woman has been helping him, but she doesn't want Addy harmed."

Elizabeth released Nick. They stood for several long moments, staring at each other, Nick uncertain whether or not to believe this woman's soothsaying abilities. Sam had once told him that she possessed unearthly powers, that he'd seen Elizabeth Mallory turn barren soil into flowering life and call the animals out of the forest to come to her and they obeyed. Sam had said that his ward, his brother's stepchild had the ability to see inside a person and predict their future. Sam Dundee had never lied to Nick.

"That's all I know," Elizabeth said. "Hurry and go after her. Now, more than ever, Addy will need her paladin."

"Her what?"

"You, Nick, she will need you, her knight in shining armor. No one else can save her. Only you."

Chapter 12

« ^ »

Nick had broken all the posted speed limits on the trip to Atlanta where a private plane awaited them. They arrived in Huntsville at seven-thirty in the morning, both of them were bleary-eyed and exhausted from worry and lack of sleep. Taking a cab from the airport, they went directly to the hospital. Hot and humid early morning sunshine greeted them the moment they stepped onto the pavement, and one of Ned Johnson's FBI agents, Alan Sturges, met them at the lobby entrance.

"Any word on my father?" Addy asked as the agent whisked them through the lobby and into an elevator.

"Sorry, ma'am, there's no news to report." The young, slender investigator punched in the correct floor, then turned to Nick. "Ms. Lunden is upstairs. We've had quite a time with her. Even Brett Windsor can't do anything with her."

Hell, that's all they needed, Nick thought, an overwrought, hysterical Dina. Addy was close to the breaking point herself; she didn't need Dina's theatrical show of concern sending her over the edge. "What's Dina doing here?"

"She refuses to leave until she sees Ms. McConnell," Agent Sturges said. "She and Windsor have been here since about five this morning."

"Has Jim come out of surgery yet?" Addy asked.

The elevator stopped. The doors opened. The three stepped into the hallway.

"No, ma'am. He's been in surgery for hours. It doesn't look good. He was shot up pretty bad, I'm afraid."

Nick gave the young agent a deadly look, silently reprimanding him for being so blunt with Addy about Hester's condition. "Come on, Red, think positive thoughts."

The minute they rounded the corner that led to the surgery waiting area, Dina Lunden came running toward Addy, tears flowing down her rosy cheeks, her arms spread wide. At the touch of Dina's arm around her, Addy cringed, then chastised herself for being so insensitive to the other woman's feelings. Maybe Dina really did care about her father. If she didn't, she certainly was putting on an award-winning performance.

"Oh, Addy, it's just awful! This shouldn't have happened. If only you had stayed in Huntsville, instead of running off to God knows where and going into hiding." Releasing her tenacious hold on Addy, Dina faced Nick. "It's all your fault. I had no idea when I invited you to my engagement party that you would wind up making such a mess of things."

Brett Windsor came forward, placing a comforting arm around Dina. "Now, Dina, stop talking nonsense. Neither Nick nor Addy could have prevented Rusty's kidnapping."

Dina glared at Brett, her eyes bright and wild. "You know I'm right, dammit!" Flinging off Brett's arm, she walked away from him.

Turning to Addy, Brett gave her a gentle hug. "I'm so sorry about all this. Dina's been hysterical ever since she heard Rusty had been kidnapped."

Addy accepted Brett's comfort, thankful that he was around to help keep Dina in check. "You were with Dina when she was told about Daddy?"

"No, as a matter of fact, I wasn't." Brett glanced over at Nick whose dark, pensive stare issued a warning. "I've found my own apartment. I moved out of the mansion three days ago."

"Addy! Oh, Addy!" Janice Dixon ran down the corridor, her blond ponytail flip-flopping up and down on her back.

Pulling out of Brett's embrace, Addy put her arms around Janice. "Oh, Janice, you didn't have to come down here, but I'm so glad you did."

"I've been checking with Dina. She told me what time they were expecting you and Nick to arrive." Teary-eyed, Janice forced a smile. "I—I thought you might need me."

"Of course I need you." Addy hugged Janice with the fierce protectiveness of an earth-mother defending her child. "You're my best friend and favorite cousin."

"Has there been any word on Uncle Rusty's whereabouts? A ransom demand or anything?"

"Nothing new," Addy said. "We're waiting to hear, and praying that Daddy's all right and that Jim survives his surgery."

While the endless minutes turned to an hour and then two, Dina continued to rant and rave, ceasing only when Brett or Nick soothed her. Addy sat with Janice, and Agent Sturges watched over them all.

Ned Johnson appeared in the doorway. Nick rose from his seat directly across from Addy. He said a silent prayer that Hester was still alive. He might well be their only chance of finding Rusty—if he'd seen the kidnapper's face and could identify him. "Ned?"

"Hester made it."

Addy sighed with relief, tears glistening in the corners of her eyes. When she stood, walking toward Nick, Janice rose and followed her. Nick, who stood in the doorway talking quietly with Ned Johnson, reached out and pulled Addy to his side.

"Look, Red. I'm going in with Ned to question Hester just as soon as he comes around. The doctors say it could be another hour, maybe longer."

"You think he can identify the kidnapper?" Addy asked.

"We're hoping he can," Johnson replied.

"Agent Sturges will stay with you when I go in to question Hester." Nick's big hand splayed across her back. He titled her chin upward, his dark eyes demanding her compliance. "Don't even go to the bathroom unless he's waiting right outside the door. Understand?"

"I understand." She caressed his cheek with her fingertips. "Don't worry about me."

"Brett is taking me home," Dina announced. "I'm simply exhausted." Stopping in front of Addy and Nick, she gave them a heated look. "You will call me the moment you get word on Rusty, won't you?"

"Of course we will," Addy said.

"He's all right, you know." Dina glanced over at Brett, who held her by the arm. "Isn't he?"

"I'll drive her home and stay with her until she calms down. I think a couple of Valium should do the trick," Brett said.

Addy felt a surge of relief once Dina had left. Her father's overwrought fiancée had gotten on everyone's nerves with her moans and sighs, her constant flood of tears and her irrational babbling. Thank the Lord that Brett had been able to persuade her to go home. The FBI was doing everything possible, but Addy knew that a great deal depended on what Jim Hester would be able to tell them about the shooting and her father's kidnapping.

Nick led her back inside the waiting area, sitting down beside her on a vinyl sofa and pulling her into his arms. She rested there, reassured by his comforting strength.

Nick stood inside the ICU cubicle where Jim Hester had just regained consciousness. Ned Johnson, an RN at his side, leaned over Hester's bed and spoke his name.

"Mr. Hester, I'm Ned Johnson. I'm with the FBI. I need to ask you a few questions."

Jim tried to speak, but his voice broke in an awkward squeak when he said Addy's name. He looked up at Agent Johnson pleadingly.

"Ms. McConnell is fine. She's waiting outside, very concerned and eager to see you."

"Alton?" Jim Hester's voice was only a choked whisper.

"He didn't make it," Johnson said. "But the doctors say you're going to be all right. What we need to know in order to find the man who did this to you and kidnapped D.B. McConnell is if you can identify the assailant."

"Mask," Jim gasped. "He wore a mask."

The stocky nurse nudged Ned Johnson out of the way and checked her patient's oxygen supply. Turning back to the FBI agent, she said, "Only a few more questions."

Nick moved to the foot of the bed. Seeing Nick, Jim reached out. His hand, strapped with an IV needle, trembled. "Romero."

"Good to see you alive, Hester. Addy's been worried sick about you."

"We didn't know … what … hit us," Jim said in a weak, quivering voice. "We drove into the parking lot." He stopped talking, giving himself a much-needed respite. "Before we … knew … what was happening, he opened fire. Shot Alton first … then me. I was on the pavement … couldn't—couldn't get to Rusty."

"I'm afraid that's all," the nurse said. "You'll both have to leave now."

"Just one more question." Ignoring the protective RN, Nick walked around to the side of the bed, reaching down to take Jim Hester's hand. "Can you tell us anything about the man who attacked you, anything that might help us?"

"Mask and hat." Jim squeezed Nick's hand with what little strength he could muster. "Didn't see his face … or hair. Tall. Well-built. I'd say fairly young … by the way he moved."

"Was he driving or on foot? Did you see any kind of vehicle?" Ned Johnson asked.

"That's two questions," the nurse scolded.

"Didn't see a car. Sorry," Jim said.

Nick gave Jim's hand a strong, reassuring squeeze. "Thanks, Jim. You get some rest, and I'll bring Addy in to see you later."

Nick hated hospitals with a passion, especially ICU units. They were an all-too-vivid reminder of his own close call with death, of the endless days and nights he'd lain, helpless and alone. His only link with life had been the pain, which he'd used to push him forward into each new day.

He'd never be the same man he was before Ian Ryker had gunned him down with an Uzi. The doctors had told him that he was lucky to be alive, and he knew they were right. But he'd lost a lot, the proper use of his leg, his job as a DEA agent, his ability to carry his woman in his arms.

Outside the ICU, Ned Johnson gripped Nick's shoulder. "Not much to go on, is it? Whoever we're dealing with isn't taking any chances."

"He's cunning and shrewd, all right, but my bet is he isn't completely sane. He's kidnapped Rusty McConnell and is demanding that Addy withdraw the bid on the NASP contract. Obviously, he hasn't done his homework or he'd know that Addy doesn't have the authority to withdraw that bid."

"He's making mistakes then, isn't he?"

"Let's just hope he makes enough for us to catch him before somebody else gets hurt."

"Ms. Addy McConnell?" A plump, middle-aged woman in a bright-orange sweat suit held the waiting-room phone in her hand.

Standing, Addy replied. "I'm Addy McConnell."

"Telephone call for you."

Addy took the phone from the woman's meaty little hand. "Hello."

"Ms. McConnell?" The man's voice was muffled, sounding similar to the caller who'd threatened her at the day-care center over two weeks ago.

"Yes." Addy's heart seemed lodged in her throat. Her ears throbbed with pressure.

"I know who kidnapped your father."

"Who is this? What do you want?"

Janice rushed to Addy's side, pulling on her arm. "What's wrong? Should I get Agent Sturges?"

Addy glanced out in the hallway where the FBI agent guarding her waited patiently by the door. With a shake of her head, Addy placed her index finger over Janice's mouth.

"I can help you find your father," the caller said. Addy knew this was the same voice, the same man who'd threatened her before. "Do you have him? Is he all right?"

"I know where he is, and I'll tell you if you'll meet me."

"Meet you?"

Janice grabbed Addy's wrist, shaking her head and silently mouthing the word no. Addy jerked away from her cousin.

"If you'll come to the coffee shop right now, I'll meet you there and tell you who kidnapped your father and where you can find him."

"How do I know I can trust you?"

"I'm your only chance of keeping your father alive. They're going to kill him. It's up to you whether he lives or dies."

Addy swallowed, wishing she could calm the erratic, deafening rhythm of her heart. Clutching the phone, she breathed deeply. "I—I have an FBI agent guarding me. He'll never let me leave the floor without him."

"If you ever want to see your father alive again, you'll find a way. If anyone, and I mean anyone, comes with you, then Rusty McConnell is a dead man."

"How—how will I recognize you?"

"I'll be wearing a Huntsville Stars T-shirt and cap. I'll wait ten minutes."

The dial tone hummed in Addy's ear. "No! Wait—"

Janice whirled Addy around to face her, grabbing her by the shoulders. "What the hell was that all about?"

Addy led Janice to the far side of the room, away from the curious stares of other ICU patients' family members. "The man on the phone says that he knows who kidnapped Daddy and he knows where Daddy is."

"You've got to tell the FBI and Nick," Janice said.

"I can't do that. He wants me to meet him in the coffee shop. Right now. If anyone comes with me, they'll kill Daddy."

"He's bluffing. If he's in the coffee shop, he can't kill Uncle Rusty."

"He may not be the kidnapper. I think he may just be working for them."

"It isn't safe for you to go down there and meet him alone. He could do anything. He could shoot you right there in the coffee shop." Janice nodded toward the open door. "Besides, Agent Sturges isn't going to let you go anywhere without him. If he did, Nick would kill him."

Addy's instincts warned her that Janice was right. It wasn't safe for her to meet this telephone caller, but if there was even the slightest chance that he was on the level, that he could lead them to Rusty, she had to take the chance, didn't she? If her actions meant the difference between saving her father's life and his death, then she had no choice.

"You can help me," Addy said. "I want you to distract Agent Sturges long enough for me to get to the elevators."

"No, Addy, I won't do it. I don't want anything to happen to you."

Addy took her cousin's face in her hands. Forcing a smile, she tried to sound reassuring. "Look, I won't take any unnecessary chances. The coffee shop will be full of people. And, if I'm not back in a few minutes, then you can tell Agent Sturges where I went. Okay?"

"Addy, are you sure?"

"No, I'm not sure, but I do know that this may be our only chance to save Daddy."

Addy watched while Janice sauntered over to the FBI agent. No man could resist her cousin's feminine charms. The woman was lethal. Within minutes, Janice had maneuvered Alan Sturges inside the waiting area and over to the coffee table, set up and replenished by hospital volunteers for the convenience of the ICU visitors. While Janice poured two cups of coffee, handing one to Sturges, Addy slipped into the hallway. Taking one last glance backward, she saw that Janice had her arm laced through the agent's and was smiling up at him, her hip resting seductively against his thigh.

Addy punched the elevator down button. While waiting, she kept checking to make sure no one was aware of her escape. The elevator doors swung open. Three people disembarked. Rushing inside, Addy punched the lobby button, drew in a deep, courage-seeking breath and said a prayer when the doors closed and the elevator descended.

Despite the air-conditioned cool of the elevator, drops of perspiration trickled down Addy's neck. Her palms were coated with sweat. Her pulse beat rapidly. Her mouth felt as dry and parched as desert sand.

She knew she shouldn't be doing this. Nick would be furious when he came out of ICU and found her missing. God, what had gotten into her, thinking she could rescue her father, that she could confront a man who could well be one of the kidnappers? She wasn't thinking straight. If the man in the coffee shop chose to kidnap her or even kill her, what help could she be to her father?

Just as Addy made the monumental decision that she was going to go back upstairs and tell Nick about the phone call, the elevator doors opened at the lobby level. Quickly, she punched the ICU floor button. Before the doors closed, a man entered. With fear racing through her like molten lava down a mountainside, Addy looked up to see who was sharing the elevator with her. Recognizing the man, she sagged with relief.

"Oh, thank God, it's you!"

"What's wrong, Addy? You seem frightened."

"I'm all right now. I wasn't expecting to see you." The man reached around Addy, pressing the open button.

"What are you doing? I was on my way back upstairs."

"I'm surprised Nick Romero let you out of his sight."

When Addy tried to press the ICU floor button again, her companion placed his hand over hers, pulling her away from the control panel. Addy glared at him.

"I have a gun in my coat pocket, Addy, and I'm quite prepared to use it."

"You?"

"We'll walk outside together, like old friends, and go to my car. Once we reach our destination, I'll tell you everything you want to know about Rusty's kidnapper."

Addy followed his instructions, cursing herself for being such a fool. Not only had she acted impulsively but she had doomed herself and her father. Icy chills of fear racked her body as her kidnapper opened his car door and gave her a gentle shove. Once trapped inside the moving vehicle, Addy turned her head slightly, watching the hospital until it faded out of sight. The car soon blended in with the afternoon traffic, its two occupants escaping any undue notice as they left behind Addy's protection—Nick Romero and the FBI.

Addy knew her only hope now lay with Nick being able to somehow figure out who had taken her. But would he be able to piece the puzzle together in time to save her and her father? Would he, unlike she and her father, ignore all the circumstantial evidence and go with his gut instincts? Dear Lord, please help him. If ever she had needed her paladin to come to her rescue, it was now.

Scanning the ICU waiting area, Nick didn't see Addy. Alan Sturges stood by the windows, drinking a cup of coffee and flirting with an overly attentive Janice Dixon. Where the hell was Addy? Was she in the rest room? If so, why wasn't Sturges standing guard outside the door?

Nick marched over to the FBI agent, gripping his shoulder in a vise-like hold. "Where's Addy?"

"Right over—" Sturges's face turned pale, his eyes widening in surprise and fear. "She's got to be in here! I just saw her a few minutes ago."

"Well, she sure as hell isn't here now, is she?" Nick swung the younger man around to face him. "If anything has happened to her, your life isn't worth—"

"It's not Alan's fault," Janice interrupted. "I've been deliberately distracting him. He—he didn't see Addy leave."

Nick released Sturges, then reached out and grabbed Janice by the shoulders. "What do you mean 'leave'? Where did she go?"

"Down to the coffee shop." Tears filled Janice's big blue eyes.

"How the hell did this happen?" Nick's gut tightened into a painful knot. His heart drummed like a roaring tornado. His big hands trembled on Janice's shoulders. "Why would she slip away to go to the coffee shop?"

"A man called."

Hot, acrid bitterness rose in his throat, the physical evidence of a fear too great to be born. "What man?"

"I don't know," Janice cried as Nick tightened his hold on her. "He—he told Addy that he knew where Uncle Rusty was, and he knew—knew who'd kidnapped him."

"Is she meeting this man in the coffee shop?" Perspiration broke out on Nick's face, dotting his forehead and upper lip. He felt the sticky, moist drops of sweat dripping down his back.

"Yes!" Janice's cries grew louder; tears streamed down her face. "I tried to stop her!"

He shook Janice so forcefully that Agent Sturges clamped his hands over Nick's, trying to free the woman from Nick's wrath. Realizing that he was hurting Janice, Nick released her. "Dammit, how could she have done something so stupid?"

Janice sought comfort in Alan Sturges's arms. "She said to tell Alan—Agent Sturges—what she'd done if she didn't come back in a few minutes."

"How long has she been gone?" Nick's voice was a low, deadly growl.

Swatting away a torrent of tears, Janice glanced up at the wall clock. "About—about five minutes."

"Sturges," Nick yelled, "go find Johnson! Tell him what's happened. I'm going down to the coffee shop, and you'd better pray that I'm not too late."

Nick spent the rest of the day in a living hell, fearing the worst and hating himself for leaving Addy in another man's care, even for the few minutes it had taken to question Jim Hester. Someone had timed that phone call just right. Someone had known the minute he'd left Addy. Sturges and Johnson had known, and so had Janice Dixon. Had she been able to contact Ron Glover? Were they the man and woman behind all the threats, behind Addy's attempted kidnapping, the recent shootings and Rusty's abduction? It made perfect sense, didn't it? Glover had been on Nick's list of suspects since the very beginning.

The FBI had set up headquarters at Rusty's mansion, waiting for any kind of instructions from the kidnapper. Thankfully, Dina had slept through the afternoon and evening. Nick had been the one to tell her what had happened to Addy. He'd never seen such sheer horror on Dina's face. Did she really love Rusty McConnell enough to care about his daughter? She sure as hell acted as if she did, as if her own life depended upon Rusty's and Addy's safety.

Mrs. Hargett had been the one to take charge, to prepare sandwiches and coffee for the agents who swarmed over the house like a cluster of drone bees. The housekeeper had also been the one to keep Dina out of the way, soothing her with words and pats and occasional cups of tea that Nick suspected were laced with liquor. By nightfall, Dina was quiet and unobtrusive.

Nick sat in Rusty's huge den, his vision clouded over with memories of the past eight days he'd spent with Addy in Sequana Falls. He heard the agents' voices and saw them moving about the room, but his private thoughts blocked out the reality.

Nothing could happen to Addy. His life wouldn't be worth living without her. If he ever got his hands on the man who'd done this to her, he'd kill him. Slowly. Painfully.

The telephone rang. Every man in the room froze. After an agonizing moment of suspended time, Ned Johnson picked up the receiver.

"McConnell residence."

Nick held his breath, waiting. Silence so profound that they could almost hear one another's heartbeats encompassed the den. Then Johnson said, "What? Is he all right? Where was he found?"

Nick rushed over to Johnson, grabbing him by the arm. "Who's been found?"

Ned replaced the receiver, then turned to Nick. "Rusty McConnell has been found. He's alive and unharmed."

"When? Where?"

"The Huntsville police found him wandering around on the side of the interstate. They thought he was drunk." Ned motioned to two of his agents. "Hankins, you and Murphy go down to the police station and bring Mr. McConnell home. He'll be a little groggy and disoriented. He's been drugged."

"Drugged," Nick said. "If he's been drugged the whole damned time, then he's probably not going to be able to tell us who kidnapped him."

"If the kidnapper let McConnell go, then you can bet your life he didn't reveal his identity."

Within an hour, D.B. McConnell had been brought home, and he'd showered, shaved, eaten and smoked a cigar. No one had told him that Addy was missing, not even Dina, whose tearful reunion with her fiancé had just about convinced Nick of her sincerity.

Nick had stayed out of sight, watching Rusty's homecoming from inside the house while Dina, Mrs. Hargett and half a dozen agents surrounded Rusty on the veranda. If Rusty saw him, he'd ask about Addy. As far as her father knew, Addy was still in hiding, safe and sound.

Ned Johnson approached Nick, who'd found himself a peaceful spot out in the backyard. "McConnell has to be told. I thought you might want to be the one to tell him."

"Yeah, thanks. She was my responsibility, and I let some maniac get to her. If anything happens to Addy—"

"Don't talk like that to her father."

"If anything happens to her, I hope Rusty breaks my damned neck."

"Mrs. Hargett is keeping Ms. Lunden occupied. We've got McConnell in the den." Ned placed his hand on Nick's shoulder. "He can't identify the kidnapper. He didn't see much more than Hester saw, except he saw the gun. A 10 mm., but we would have know that soon, anyway, from the ballistics report on the bullets the doctors dug out of Hester and Alton."

"Anything else?"

"Yeah. His attacker was driving a dark blue Buick. Rusty got a glimpse of the license plate. He remembered the first four digits. We're running a check now, but don't get your hopes up. You know as well as I do the car was probably stolen."

"Can you give me a few minutes alone with Rusty?" Nick asked.

"Sure thing."

As it turned out, Nick didn't get more than three minutes alone with Addy's father after explaining to him what had happened at the hospital. The telephone rang, stunning everyone into silence.

Ned Johnson motioned an angry and outraged Rusty McConnell toward the phone. "This could he our boy calling."

Clinching the receiver so tightly that his knuckles whitened, Rusty answered, "D.B. McConnell."

"You had your chance, McConnell." The muffled voice held an edge of sadistic pleasure. "All you had to do was not bid on the NASP contract and Addy would have been safe."

"Who the hell is this? If you've done anything to harm my daughter, I'll—"

"You'll what?" The man laughed. "You should have followed instructions."

"I can still cancel the bid," Rusty said. "Is that what you want?"

"It's too late, much too late for Addy."

"No, no it isn't. Tell me what you want and I'll do it. Just don't hurt Addy."

"She won't be in any pain. It's going to happen so quickly, she won't feel a thing. One big boom and she'll be joining her illustrious Delacourt ancestors. Of course, you won't find enough of her to bury in the old family cemetery."

The line went dead. Rusty cursed loudly, using a string of profanities that would have put the foulest-mouthed hoodlum to shame.

Ned Johnson and Nick jumped on Rusty the minute he replaced the receiver, asking him question after question. Rusty went over the conversation again and again.

Nick knew there had to be a clue in the kidnapper's words, if only he could figure out what it was. As minutes ticked by, slowly but surely counting down the last moments of Addy's life, Nick kept making Rusty repeat every word the caller had said. Finally, Rusty broke under the pressure, turning on Nick. Rusty's big, hard fist made contact with Nick's jaw, knocking the younger man to the floor. Nick decided right then and there that he was glad he hadn't been on the receiving end of Rusty McConnell's wrath when the old man had been a little younger and in his prime.

Dina, who entered the room just as Nick picked himself up off the floor, ran to her fiancé, encircling his thick waist with her slender arms. "You can't go on this way, Rusty, darling! You must get some rest."

"How the hell can I rest when some lunatic has my daughter and is planning to … blow … her … up." Forceful, manly tears streamed down Rusty's ruddy cheeks and rocked his robust frame. He clung to Dina, who cooed soothing words to him as she stroked his back.

Once again Nick went over the kidnapper's messages, praying that something would click in his mind. It's too late for Addy. She won't be in any pain. One big boom and she'll be joining her illustrious Delacourt ancestors. You won't find enough of her to bury in the old family cemetery.

Nick paced the floor, ruffling his already mussed hair with restless fingers. Again, Romero, again. One big boom. Delacourt ancestors. Old family cemetery.

Wherever the kidnapper had taken Addy, he'd planted a bomb. But where had he taken her? And how long before the bomb exploded?

Delacourt ancestors. Old family cemetery. Elm Hill! God, it was a long shot, but what if Addy's kidnapper knew about her mother's ancestral home? Addy had told him that no one had lived there since she and her father had moved out twenty-five years ago.

Nick found Rusty and Dina sitting together on the living-room sofa. Rusty gazed up at him with tear-filled eyes. Addy's father looked every day of his seventy years.

"Where's Elm Hill?" Nick asked. "How do I get there?"

"Elm Hill?" Rusty sat up straight, his tired expression growing alert. "You think he took her to Elm Hill?"

"It's possible. He mentioned her Delacourt ancestors and the old family cemetery."

"The cemetery is on the estate." Rusty jumped up. "I'll go with you and show you the way."

"No," Nick said. "I'm playing a hunch. Addy could be anywhere. You need to stay here by the phone in case the kidnapper tries to get in touch with you again."

"Then take one of Johnson's boys with you."

"If the kidnapper is still there with her when I arrive, I don't want to scare him off. I'll have to go in alone."

Rusty pulled Nick into his bear-like hug, stunning Nick with his affection. "You save our girl."

Nick couldn't reply. He hoped Addy's father knew that he'd do anything for Addy, even die if it was necessary.

Rusty gave Nick instructions on the quickest route out of Huntsville to Elm Hill. Dina, Rusty and Ned Johnson followed Nick outside to his silver Jag.

"Keep in touch by car phone," Johnson said. "I don't like you going out there alone. Anything could happen."

"If I'm wrong about Elm Hill, it won't matter." Nick got behind the wheel, revved the motor and drove down the driveway.

He wasn't a very religious man. Hell, he hadn't been inside a church since his grandmother used to drag him off to Sunday mass. But he sought out God's ear, hoping that The Man Upstairs was listening. He needed a big favor, and he was willing to make any kind of deal necessary. Could he make a deal with God? If he could, he'd promise Him anything in exchange for Addy's life.

Chapter 13

« ^ »

He had stripped Addy down to her black teddy. For a while she'd been afraid he was going to rape her. He had touched her intimately and called her sweet Addy.

Why had she never seen this side of him? Obviously he was a very sick man—a man so obsessed with her father's money that he had already killed two men and was plotting two more murders.

She didn't know how long she'd been alone in the front parlor at Elm Hill. It could have been hours since he'd left. She didn't know.

Straining to see the digital timer attached to the heavy canvas belt he had strapped around her waist, Addy toppled over. Biting down, clamping her teeth to keep from crying, she tumbled around on the dusty floor until she righted herself again, sitting up on her knees. The rope that tied her hands behind her was attached to her ankles.

Even though he had been on Nick's list of suspects, she had never once actually considered him. How could she have been so blind? She and her father had opened their home to him, had accepted him as a part of the family because he was Dina's stepson.

Alone and frightened, Addy went over in her mind everything that happened since Brett Windsor had driven her to Elm Hill.

He had forced her inside the house at gunpoint, made her remove her clothes, and then had run his hands over her with rough, sadistic, sexual pleasure. Closing her eyes, she shut out the dawn light that crept through the tall, bare windows. She couldn't stop herself from reliving those terrifying moments she'd spent with Brett before he'd left her alone to die.

Outside a night owl hooted and a thousand katydids sang in unison.

Brett forced her to her knees, almost knocking her over in his attempt to subdue her. With unnatural strength, he jerked her hands behind her back, binding them securely with nylon cord, then draping the rope over her ankles, effectively hog-tying her.

"Don't do this, Brett." She wasn't too proud to beg; the threat of dying had quickly put her priorities in the proper order.

"Oh, sweet Addy, I had hoped we'd have more time together. I was so looking forward to making love to you." Brett traced the lines of her face with his fingertips. "But that was before Nick Romero had you. I don't want his leavings. Not a second time."

"Are you talking about Dina?" Addy tugged on her wrists. The cord was tight, with very little slack, allowing no chance for escape.

"Did you suspect that we were lovers? Or did Romero tell you?"

"Brett, if it's the money, Daddy will pay you whatever you want if you'll just let both of us go. You and Dina can fly out of the country with millions." She hoped that she could reason with him, despite his apparent madness.

"I don't want a few measly millions." He carried the battery-operated lantern with him when he moved toward the door. "I plan to have it all. Everything that belongs to D.B. McConnell will be mine and Dina's in just a few months."

"If you kill Daddy and me, Dina won't inherit anything. She—she's not even named in Daddy's will."

"Not yet, but she will be. Once she and Rusty are married."

"Then … you … you haven't hurt Daddy?" An instant surge of relief rushed through Addy. Somewhere in all this craziness there just might be a note of sanity, a ray of hope in the darkness. "Where is Daddy, Brett? What have you done with him?"

"I set your father free only moments before I returned to the hospital and met you at the elevator." Brett smiled at her, his stunning, boyish smile that disguised a sick mind. "I had to kidnap Rusty. You left me no other choice when you allowed Romero to take you into hiding. It was the only way to get you back to Huntsville."

"Why did you have to get me back to Huntsville? I don't understand."

"You're the one I had to kidnap in order for my plan to work. You, Addy, you. Not your father. Rusty's probably at home now, all safe and sound."

Addy sighed with relief. If her father was free, he'd be able to tell Nick and the FBI that Brett was behind all the threats. Suddenly the reality of the situation hit her. Surely Brett wasn't so insane that he would have released a man capable of identifying him. "Does Daddy know that you—that you're—"

"I kept Rusty drugged the whole time. He has no idea who kidnapped him."

"Nick will figure it out. He'll find me, and when he does, he'll kill you. Do you hear me, Brett? Nick will kill you."

Addy called after him, but be didn't reply. She heard his footsteps as he walked out into the foyer and opened the front door. He returned quickly, carrying the lantern and a nylon duffel bag. Bending over beside her, he dropped the bag to the floor.