Hero For Hire
Jill Shalvis
The Case of the Missing HeiressA baby left on a doorstep, an heiress presumed dead, smuggled gems, cover-ups…and murder.To the Trueblood, Texas, P.I. agency, Finders Keepers, it's more than solving the mystery. It's about reuniting a mother, a child…and a family.A Sister's SecretBrazilian heiress Terry Monteverde was supposedly killed in a tragic accident. But how could a dead woman give birth to a baby? Bounty hunter Rick Singleton goes underground in Rio to find out. His only lead is Terry's sister, Nina Monteverde. She's sweet, shy – and not telling what she knows. Rick's a dangerous man to cross, but Nina's not afraid – Rick is. He's defenseless against her innocent charm. And that scares the hell out of him.
A baby left on a doorstep, an heiress presumed dead…and murder? Check out this classic thrilling romance by New York Times bestselling author Jill Shalvis!
Brazilian heiress Terry Monteverde was supposedly killed in a tragic accident. But how could a dead woman give birth to a baby? Bounty hunter Rick Singleton goes underground in Rio to find out. His only lead is Terry’s sister, Nina Monteverde. She’s sweet, shy—and not telling what she knows. Rick’s a dangerous man to cross, but Nina’s not afraid—Rick is. He’s defenseless against her innocent charm. And that scares the hell out of him.
A contemporary romance.
Previously published.
“My God, it’s not you.”
The man stared at her, his gaze measuring. “It’s close....” Once again he studied the picture, then carefully searched her face. “Really close. But no cigar. What do you know about this woman? What did you call her...Terry? Where can I find her?”
Nina nearly let out a laugh, but it would have been half-hysterical, so she put her hand to her mouth and shook her head.
“I need to talk to her.”
“You...can’t,” she said, wishing for something to rescue her from this nightmare.
“Why not?”
“She died last September.”
His frown deepened. “Try again, lady.”
Nina shook off the fear and found her temper. “I don’t know who you are, but there is a guard right inside, and—”
“Don’t call him. I just want some answers. I need to talk to her.”
“No.” Terry was dead.
And she needed to remain so.
Everything depended on her remaining so.
JILL SHALVIS has been making up stories since she could hold a pencil. Now, thankfully, she gets to do it for a living, and doesn’t plan to ever stop. Jill is a bestselling, award-winning author of over two dozen novels who has hit the Waldenbooks bestsellers lists, is a 2000 RITA® Award nominee and a two-time National Readers’ Choice Award winner. Jill’s first single title, The Street Where She Lives, appeared last October and she is hard at work on a new one.
Hero for Hire
Jill Shalvis
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Dear Reader (#ulink_b330f995-00ed-567d-9217-34866c4fa1a8),
I’ve written over two dozen novels, and this one, Hero for Hire, was my favorite. Okay, so I say that about every book I finish.
Nina Monteverde has a few secrets, one of which is that she’s never trusted a soul to see the real Nina. Rick Singleton hates secrets. He’s a dangerous, edgy, brooding bounty hunter still paying for the one fatal mistake that changed his life. When they are forced by circumstances to work together, sparks fly.
So does a very unwelcome heat between them, a heat that deepens quickly both in sultry Rio de Janeiro and the untamed Amazon jungle, becoming the most terrifying thing of all: love.
I love to hear from redaers. You can write me at P.O. Box 3945, Truckee, CA 96160-3945. For a complete list of my books, please visit www.jillshalvis.com (http://www.jillshalvis.com).
Thanks, and happy reading!
Jill Shalvis
CONTENTS
Cover (#ud067b92a-ad58-5b76-86dd-ea8e2f2ec3cd)
Back Cover Text (#u792bd234-277c-587c-afa8-d080a46c1f46)
About the Author (#u83658f70-cf34-5c57-be1a-37c82bc4295b)
Title Page (#uefe00a62-aba6-5a03-be43-3a59e7c792e3)
Dear Reader (#u1918fe3d-44bc-56a7-9879-dbafed2040d1)
PROLOGUE (#u2b6130de-dfbd-5127-9da9-aa6627fb912d)
CHAPTER ONE (#ucd8a0ca9-f19e-5f38-8d53-638f7def0490)
CHAPTER TWO (#u696a9f17-bf0b-5ec9-ae5e-d3c89f28848d)
CHAPTER THREE (#ub2041d48-6864-5fbe-9fa4-dab9cfe449fe)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
PROLOGUE (#ulink_30a87bf9-560a-5e52-b6d6-226d1f545a99)
FRUSTRATION BOILED UP inside, crawling, screaming to be let out.
What to do?
It should be so simple. There were only three things worth having in life—wealth, power and physical beauty.
Yet none had been obtained, which fried the blood. Others had gotten what they wanted. Others like Terry Monteverde.... Now there was a woman who’d had it all and hadn’t even noticed. She’d lived her wild, wanton life without a single care.
Shameless.
She’d been punished for that, and that punishment had been quite satisfactory.
Only that satisfaction hadn’t lasted long, not when the family reputation and success lived on through Terry’s younger sister.
Nina Monteverde. Sweet and lovely. Beloved by all.
Just thinking about it had the bitterness and fury burning inside all over again. The Monteverdes had everything, everything worth coveting.
Yet they were untouchable.
If only Terry was still alive to pay for her sins once again.
Since she wasn’t, Nina would have to do.
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_2c6e8612-1768-5ad3-9338-26df9e52c31c)
MAN, THE HEAT was brutal. But then again, the weather in Rio de Janeiro was known for being brutal, even in the winter month of July.
Winter being relative of course, especially in the tropics.
Though the air came off the ocean and should have been cool, it wasn’t; but after four years in Brazil, Rick Singleton considered himself a Carioca—a native—and hardly felt a thing.
In truth, he hardly felt anything anymore, and that was how he liked it. He’d definitely come to fit into the South American way of life, where everything was casual, come-what-may, and absolutely pleasure-based.
Not many would consider their job pleasure-based, but Rick did. As a bounty hunter, he lived for the thrill of the chase—not to mention the money he got paid for finding his man.
Or in this case, woman.
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the hazy Polaroid of a couple taken two Carnivals back. The woman with her feathery mask had eyes only for the man holding her close. They looked excited, anticipatory, and given the man’s hot gaze, they were headed for a night of passion.
Rick didn’t know the woman’s name. All he knew was that Mitch Barnes, the man in the picture, had hired him through Finders Keepers, a private investigation agency in Texas, to find her. They’d spent one night together, she and Mitch, and the man was desperate, evidenced both by the ridiculous amount of money he’d offered Rick, and the tone of his voice when he talked about his mystery woman.
He obviously cared a great deal about her.
Given the hordes of tourists that came to Brazil every year to partake in Carnival’s decadent celebration, Rick doubted the woman even lived in Rio, but for the money he’d do his best to find her. He had no clues other than the elaborate necklace she wore.
Mitch, an injured and recovering FBI agent now living in San Antonio, hadn’t known anything about the hand-wrought gold-and-emerald necklace, except that the woman looked gorgeous in it. Apparently their one night together had produced more than just a wild heat and passion. It had also produced a baby, a fact Mitch hadn’t been aware of until he’d discovered the baby girl left on his neighbor’s doorstep was his.
Now more than ever Mitch wanted to find the woman.
That was Rick’s job. Not much to go on, but he’d worked on less. He hadn’t screwed up a case since his ultimate failure four years prior.
Four years.
It was hard to believe it had been so long, and if there’d been any emotion left in him, any at all, he’d ache at the memory.
But his heart was as good as dead. Nothing got to him, not anymore.
He’d find the missing woman, no matter what he had to do, then get paid and move on. No sweat.
No looking back.
To that end, he stood in the middle of a particularly seedy favela, one of Rio’s many shanty towns, where one fifth of the population crammed together, struggling daily just to scrape by. The run-down cities within a city sat precariously perched on the steep hillside on either side of Rio, seemingly poised to slide down the sharp cliffs. Contrary to Rio itself, which arguably had the most gorgeous vistas in all the world, there was little beauty to be found here.
Rick stared down would-be pickpockets and petty thieves, knowing the first law in a place like this was to see nothing and hear nothing.
And keep out of trouble.
If someone pulled a gun, or even a knife, he was on his own, as all government law and order stopped at the entrance to most favelas. Having been first a Navy SEAL and then a federal marshal in another life, Rick wasn’t concerned. He could take care of himself.
“I’m looking for a woman,” he said in Portuguese to his informant, Juan, a well-known fence and all-around low-life con artist who’d sooner sell his own mother than go to jail for his petty crimes.
“A woman?” Juan shoved his hands into his pockets and spoke in heavily accented English. “There’s millions of people in Brazil, half of them women. Pick one.”
“This one.” Rick held out the picture Finders Keepers had sent him.
Juan stared at it. “Nice.”
“Do you know her?”
“I didn’t mean the woman.” Juan let out a crusty laugh that told Rick he’d been smoking at least half his life. “The necklace. It’s similar to O Coração de Amante.”
“The what?”
Juan rolled his eyes. “The Lover’s Heart,” he said in English. “The original is in a museum somewhere, but clever remakes are popular with the riqueza. You know, the wealthy.” He pulled the photo closer. “Either way, it’s a very rare piece.” He scratched his chin, eyes shining with speculation. “One could get rich off a piece like that, if it’s real.”
Given the woman’s aristocratic beauty and dress, Rick doubted the necklace was anything but genuine. If he could trace it... “Where would I get another like it?”
“Ah, now you’re talking.”
“I mean legally.”
“Oh.” He sighed with disappointment. “Well, I’d bet my entire day’s take—” He faltered at the steely, very hard cop look Rick shot him. “Er, I mean my week’s salary, man. Salary. I’m not on the take—”
“The necklace, Juan.”
“If it’s the real deal, it came from the Monteverde’s.”
“Monteverde’s?”
Face carefully blank, Juan held out his hand, palm up.
Rick swore, searched his pockets, then slapped some reals into Juan’s outstretched palm.
Juan pocketed the money and held out his hand again. “Try American dollars. They go further.”
“It had better be good,” Rick warned, going back to his wallet.
“Always.”
When Rick greased his palm with more bills, American this time, Juan gave him a grin that was missing more than one tooth. “Monteverde is the name of a famous Brazilian gem family. They have a huge business. An entire building in Ipanema, right on the beach. You might have seen it, it’s the ritziest place out there. All That Glitters. They cater to people with too much money on their hands.”
“Yeah.” Rick rarely spent time in Rio’s money belt. “Thanks. Stay clean, Juan.”
“Sure,” he vowed before slinking off.
Rick let him go, thinking with any luck he’d find the mystery woman by the end of the day and have a nice, fat wallet. Even better, he could be on another case by this time tomorrow. He straddled his motorcycle and drove down the steep, unpaved hills of no-man’s-land, leaving the dark alleys of the favela behind. Within five minutes he drove into another world entirely, where throngs of people walked beautiful beaches half-nude, laughing, talking, running, playing without a care.
Surrounded by tall, majestic mountains, the ocean bay glittered a brilliant azure blue, its beaches made so scenic by palm trees and tropical flowers.
High above on the closest mountain peak towered a 130-foot statue of Christ, arms nearly as wide as he was tall, looking down on one and all, sinners and saints. The scene never failed to give Rick a cynical smile.
All That Glitters was indeed a huge business. It occupied one of the dozens of buildings crammed right on the beach, though it was bigger and better than most.
All eighteen floors of it.
While Rick debated the best plan of action, he parked and sat at an open boteco—Rio’s answer to the American café—where he could watch the comings and goings, of which there were plenty.
The bottom floor of All That Glitters was an upscale jewelry retail store, where he assumed the Monteverde family sold what they had designed on the other seventeen floors. As he sat back to watch the goings-on through the store window, he caught sight of her.
The mystery woman.
In disbelief, he pulled out the worn photo. Same color chestnut hair, wild and full, though now the sides were slicked back with glittery combs. Same light-olive skin, smooth and flawless.
She turned then, and through the glass and the fifteen feet of hustling, bustling street that separated them, their gazes met.
And the oddest thing happened. She seemed to see him, really see him. Him. Something deep inside Rick jerked and came to attention at that.
It bothered him.
As a man for hire, one who’d effectively walked away from his own life, there was no one who knew or cared about him, and he liked it that way. People wanted him only for what he could do, and he liked that too, as frankly, there was little he wouldn’t do. He’d purposely built a reputation as being the best bounty hunter in all of Brazil, and he never got personally involved with a case.
Not ever again.
No one touched his emotions, which he’d buried so far deep down he was certain they no longer existed.
No one.
But this woman... One look at her, just one meeting of the eyes, and he felt something inside him crack and soften.
It had to be the sun.
Or the crowd. There were millions of people in Rio and he felt as if all of them were walking up and down this very street, showing off their youth, their bodies, their indifference.
Or maybe it was his busy schedule and lack of sleep. Since he took every case that came his way, no matter how difficult, and rarely hit dreamland easily, it was entirely possible.
Anything but a personal connection. Narrowing his gaze, he forced a cool, hard detachment, one he was terrifyingly good at, and got back to business.
Surveying her.
She was average weight and build, or so he assumed, since she’d hidden nearly every inch of her body behind a business suit that didn’t fit into the Brazilian wear-as-little-as-possible way of life. She was still behind the counter, and with a visible shake, broke eye contact with him and turned to talk to another woman. With a shy smile and a light pat on the other woman’s arm, his mystery woman disappeared into the back of the store.
She hadn’t looked at him again.
Rick let out a long, slow breath, but before he could clear his head, a waitress came up to his table. She was dressed in a skimpy little skirt that sat low-slung on her hips and a bathing suit top designed to cover only her nipples—barely. Her crooked smile was both friendly and speculative. “Something to drink?” she asked in Portuguese, and when it took him a moment to pull his thoughts from across the street, she added in the bold way of Brazilian women, “Or...something else perhaps?”
Women had come on to him plenty of times, and plenty of times he’d appreciated it, but at the moment he was distracted. “Have you been in there?” he asked, gesturing across the street.
Laughing wryly, she shook her head. “Too pricey for the likes of me. But I’ve window-shopped plenty.”
Window-shopped.
Yeah, that was it. He was going window shopping.
* * *
GRABBING HER PURSE, Nina Monteverde headed out. She was desperately in need of lunch, though it was already late afternoon. She’d skipped breakfast, and now that she thought about it, she’d skipped dinner the night before as well.
Her head throbbed with it.
Running All That Glitters was going to kill her. Second quarter paperwork was due, there were taxes to handle and several key employee contracts had come up for negotiation.
Terry could have handled all of it and more, with a bright smile.
At the thought of her beloved sister, Nina’s throat tightened. The weight in her chest seemed to double. Triple.
But she kept walking, relieved to find a small table available at the café across the street. Grateful, she sat down and ordered. When her drink came, she sipped it, acknowledging the burning sensation behind her eyes as exhaustion, and promised herself that tonight she’d sleep.
No more nightmares.
Even if today was—would have been—Terry’s birthday. Her sister should be home preparing her own celebration, just as she always had, and doing it in the outgoing, outrageous style in which she’d done everything.
Instead of being dead.
“Here, cara,” the waitress said, setting a sandwich on the table. Then she plopped into the empty chair and grinned. “Break time for me, too. Whew, it’s hot.”
“It is only eighty degrees, Maria.”
“Yes, but this is supposed to be winter. So—” she leaned close, studying Nina carefully “—you look...off today.”
Yes, she was off. Hard to believe she could be surrounded by people all day long and still feel...lonely. But Nina had been holding people at bay all her life, never really letting anyone in, and she’d gotten good at it.
Too good.
Maybe she regretted that now, that distance, but it was a hard habit to break.
“Nina?” Maria frowned in concern. “What’s up?”
“It has been a long day, that is all.” A long day fussing with the business end of things instead of designing, as her heart craved.
“You need to get laid,” Maria decided.
Nina choked on her drink. She enjoyed Maria’s company but she’d never gotten used to her friend’s easy way of sharing absolutely everything. “I am fine.”
“You’re always fine.” Sighing lustily, ignoring the tourists at the next table who were gesturing for her attention, Maria put her feet up and leaned back. “Don’t you ever get tired of being so... fine?”
Actually, yes, Nina did get tired of it, of putting on the perfect, good-girl facade, not that she’d ever say so. After all, she’d been raised as the obedient, younger, seen-but-not-heard daughter. At twenty-six, that was a very difficult habit to break, even with the entire family business now firmly on her shoulders. “You have customers waiting.”
“Oh, please. I’m not falling for that weak change of subject. Now talk. About you,” she added pointedly. “And by the way, you know how I’m always bugging you to get a man?”
“They do not grow on trees. It is just not that easy for me.”
“It should be. You’re rich, you run a huge company, and you’re beautiful. What wouldn’t a man like?”
Exactly. It was all about money, prestige and looks, never about Nina as a person. She objected to that, and had learned to be alone instead.
She’d even learned to like it.
Mostly.
“Anyway, listen.” Maria lowered her voice. “There’s been a gorgeous guy here two days in a row, looking at you through the window of the shop.”
“Be serious.”
“I am.” Maria dropped her feet and leaned in close. “I’ll even point him out to you. He’s a few tables over as we speak, watching you very carefully.”
“Maria—”
“Shhh. He’s tall, dark and dangerous. Got a brooding edge to him, that one does. No, don’t look! Not yet. Meu Deus, he’s got a body, too, all muscle and hunger.”
Nina found herself reeled in. “What does he look like?”
“He’s wearing dark, unassuming clothes and looks like a man who knows what he wants and how to get it. Ah, and those eyes! Did I tell you about his eyes? They’re spitfire green and full of heat. Now slowly crane your neck and look off to your right. See? Look at him look at you. Magnifíco!” Maria fanned herself wildly. “Isn’t he wicked?”
Wicked didn’t begin to describe him. He was indeed all muscle and hunger and fire and heat, one-hundred percent of it directed right at Nina, who could suddenly scarcely breathe.
He was the man who’d held her gaze prisoner the day before when she’d innocently looked up and caught him watching her through the window. Her heart had thrown itself against her rib cage.
She hadn’t liked it then. She didn’t like it now either, though he had managed the one thing no one else had in days...he’d taken her mind off Terry.
“A man like that...” Maria spoke in a hushed, reverent whisper. “He knows how to satisfy a lover, no?”
Nina tried to tear her gaze away, tried to pull back, but there was something in his startling eyes that once again held her utterly captive. He didn’t blink or look away, and she found she couldn’t, either.
“Americano?” Maria wondered.
If he was indeed American, it was impossible to tell. Not all drop-dead gorgeous men were American. His sun-bleached brown hair and brilliant green eyes could have come from anywhere. His clothes were nondescript, yet emphasized his long, sculpted frame. His face, tanned and rugged and sporting at least a day’s growth of beard, couldn’t be pinpointed to any one nationality.
One thing was certain, she had definitely drawn his interest. Those searing eyes looked right at her. Through her. And though he certainly couldn’t see inside—no one could—she felt as if he could read her thoughts.
They hadn’t met, so he wasn’t interested in her intellect, wit or personality. It couldn’t be her exciting reputation either, since, unlike her sister, she didn’t have one.
But men—specifically fortune hunters—didn’t much care about Nina’s looks or personality, and if this man was indeed a fortune hunter, he wouldn’t be the first. She’d deal with him. She was in just the mood to do it. “I need to go.”
“But your lunch.”
“Bag it for me?”
“Nina—”
“Please?”
Maria tilted her head in the man’s direction. “I think he wants to talk to you.”
“I am not interested.” To prove it, she wrenched her gaze from his, grabbed her purse and started across the street.
Not interested.
A lie, of course. She was interested, desperately so. Interested in learning what she’d missed in life by hiding away, by letting work take over, by letting family loyalty keep her silent.
The familiar spurt of bitterness went through her. After an overprotective childhood, not to mention growing up in the shadow of her sister’s outrageous stunts, she’d purposely interacted with very few people, and certainly few strangers.
Much as she’d like to change things and start...well, living, she wasn’t sure how to do that. And anyway, it didn’t matter. Certainly the stranger, gorgeous as sin and likely double the trouble, had forgotten her already. She was positive of it.
So positive she didn’t look back.
Though she wanted to.
* * *
THE REST OF the day flew by as she plowed through her business chores so she could get to her own private pride and joy—creating jewelry from her own designs.
It was her life, her heart, and once at her worktable, away from all the dreaded paperwork, she let her mind flow and empty, and she did what she did best—design original jewelry to go with the gems All That Glitters mined, purchased and traded all over the globe.
It was a quiet job, and one she did alone, which only perpetuated her reserved image. But she loved it more than anything, and wished she had more time for it these days.
Terry, I miss you, so much.
But what was done was done, and Nina had dealt with her grief. She’d dealt with the business. She’d truly moved on.
It just seemed her heart hadn’t quite gotten the message yet. Determined to lighten her mood, if only for a little while, she adjusted her light and reached for her latest drawing, a bracelet of inlaid gold with emeralds. It would match the Coração de Amante she’d made for Terry several years ago. Already Nina knew she couldn’t let this new piece go to sale. She’d dip into her own savings to buy it for herself.
She began by making a bezel, a gold sheet to hold the gems. For the next few hours she worked annealed gold around the stones, measuring, cutting and soldering with gold hard solder. By the time she stood up and stretched, it was long after dark, and the building was empty except for security.
She’d forgotten, if only for a while, her unbearable sadness.
Yes, tonight she’d sleep dream-free.
She was halfway across the back parking lot, heading toward her car, planning which book she’d take to bed with her to read until sleepiness over-came her, when she heard a footstep. A shadow fell over her.
Heart leaping, she whirled around.
And faced him. Her perfect stranger.
For one moment she had the ridiculous thought that he’d sought her out to ask her for a date.
How absurd. No one wanted her simply for herself. No one even knew the real her.
As she debated whether to stop or run, he pulled a photo from his pocket and held it up. Comparing her to it, he glanced back and forth for a moment, then frowned before taking a step closer.
“Who are you?” he asked.
It should have been her question to him.
“Como você se chama? What’s your name?” he tried in both Portuguese and English, still frowning.
If he’d been huge and menacing rather than lean and rangy as he was, he couldn’t have been more intimidating. He stood over her, all lithe, tense muscle.
Maria was right, he was magnificent, one of the most magnificent men she’d ever seen, but that didn’t make him any less dangerous.
Saying nothing, she backed up, wondering if she could make it to the building, where she could get help from the security guards within.
“Hey.” He looked annoyed. “You speak Portuguese? English? What?”
“Both,” she said, taking another step back.
“Don’t run from me. I just want to talk to you.”
Uh-huh. Right.
Another step, though now she became uncertain about turning her back on him, because he looked athletic and fast as lightning, and she doubted her ability to outdistance him.
But if she screamed, would the security guards hear her from here?
“Stop,” he demanded, yet he didn’t reach for her, which she took as a good sign. “Just hold on a second, would ya?”
Nope. If he was going to rape, maim or murder her, he’d have to catch her first, and she didn’t plan on being caught.
“I just want to know who you are,” he said.
She hadn’t lived in Rio all her life, but had been sent to private boarding schools in the United States, England and Switzerland. This man was indeed American, and southern American at that, given his slight drawl.
“Don’t run.” His voice was cool and quiet, but there was definite danger there. “And don’t scream,” he added. “I hate it when people scream. I just want to ask you some questions.”
One more step, she thought, slowly lifting her foot, just...one...more.
“This picture.” He thrust it beneath her nose. “What do you know about this picture?”
Foot in the air, poised for flight, Nina went utterly still. Her breath clogged in her throat. Her heart stopped.
It was her sister.
Meu Deus, he held a picture of Terry in the embrace of some man, and she looked so beautiful, so stunningly alive and happy, Nina’s eyes filled. “Terry,” she whispered.
The man stared at her. “My God, it’s not you.” His gaze was measuring. “It’s close....” Once again he studied the picture, then carefully searched her face. “Really close.” Before she could guess his intention, he reached up and unclipped her hair, tugging it free, ignoring her startled gasp. “But no cigar.” His eyes, those all-seeing eyes, chilled. “What do you know about this woman? What did you call her...Terry? Where can I find her?”
Nina nearly let out a laugh, but it would have been half hysterical, so she put her hand to her mouth and shook her head.
“I need to talk to her.”
For once, the streets were relatively free of the wandering tourists and loud boisterous locals. There was no one to rescue her from this bad dream. “You...cannot,” she said.
“Why?”
“She died a year ago last September.”
His frown deepened, his jaw tight as a drum. “Try again, lady.”
Nina shook off the fear and found her temper. “I do not know who you are, but I want you to leave these premises immediately. There is a guard right inside, and—”
“Don’t call him. I just want some answers. I need to talk to her.”
“No.” Terry was dead.
And she needed to remain so.
Everything depended on her remaining so.
“How long since you’ve seen her?” he pressed.
More than a year now. A lifetime. Nina closed her eyes and remembered the terror in her sister’s face when she realized that she was being watched. Stalked. Then the police had come, arresting her for embezzlement and smuggling gems in cahoots with a known smuggling operation.
It had been a lie, a terrible, vicious lie. Terry had been set up and framed, but the evidence against her had been insurmountable. Planted, of course, though neither Terry nor Nina knew who would have done such a thing.
Nina still didn’t know.
In light of that, while out on bail on charges that would put her in prison for life, Terry had vanished. Then she’d faked her own death, and Nina had grieved as if it had been the real thing, because she knew she’d never get to see Terry again.
“The waitress told me you were Senhorita Nina Monteverde,” the American said. “If that’s true, who’s Terry?”
If this man was looking for her sister, something had gone terribly, terribly wrong, and Nina backed up another step.
“Maybe Terry is...your sister?”
Nina’s eyes widened, she couldn’t help it. He was good.
“Yeah,” he said, nodding, still staring at her. “Your sister. I need to talk to her, Nina.”
Another step.
Then another.
And yet another, all the while her brain frantically racing. Terry, God, Terry please be all right.
Then finally she had enough space between her and the American. “Security!” she shouted. “Help! Security!”
Behind her the doors opened, and she whirled toward them, never so grateful for the wealth and status her family name afforded as two uniformed men rushed toward her. “Escort this man off the premises!” she cried, turning back to point out the American, as if he needed pointing out.
But the security men skidded to a halt, bafflement crossing their faces. Nina didn’t understand, until she realized she pointed at nothing and no one.
Her stranger had vanished.
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_3efb8b43-032d-5b71-8907-425e635e630e)
RICK WASN’T a patient man. One would think that worked against him in his line of work, but he’d found frustration and intimidation good motivators.
Only he’d blown it just now, letting Nina Monteverde stun him stupid with just one blink of those huge, wide, drown-in-me chocolate brown eyes.
What was that about?
He’d interviewed plenty of women in his day, and while it was true few could resist his own dubious charms, it had happened on occasion. But he’d still always gotten what he wanted.
Not tonight.
Tonight he’d been the one blindsided, and for his trouble all he’d gotten was a lie.
No way could the woman in the picture have been dead a year and a half. She’d given birth only seven months ago, then dumped the baby girl on what she thought was Mitch Barnes’s doorstep.
Rick sat on his motorcycle contemplating his next move. He pulled out his cell phone, and without calculating the difference in the time zone, dialed Mitch’s home.
“Barnes here.”
“Does the name Monteverde mean anything to you?” Rick asked.
“No, why?”
“The woman in the picture, the one you’re looking for, her name is Terry Monteverde.”
“Terry.” Mitch’s voice, so professional and alert in his greeting, went rough with memories. “Terry Monteverde.”
“Nina, her sister, claims she died last fall.”
“That’s a lie. I had a paternity test. Hope is mine. The only woman I was with at the right time was the woman in the picture.”
“Yeah, Nina was lying. But I think she was protecting Terry, for whatever reason.” Rick couldn’t be sure why he thought so, he didn’t know Nina Monteverde from Eve, but his instincts had never failed him. At least not in four years. “I’m going to follow her home and see what else I can get.”
Across the miles and phone lines, Mitch swore softly. In the background, a baby was crying. “I know she’s in some sort of trouble, I can feel it. It’s the only reason she’d abandon her baby.” He drew a deep breath. “She has to be found, she needs help.”
“I’ll find her.” Rick could still see the parking lot of All That Glitters. Two armed guards escorted Nina to her car, where she looked around, craning her neck left and right.
Looking for him, Rick knew as she got in and started the car. “I’ll get back to you,” he said to Mitch, and clicked off, shoving the phone in his pocket. When she’d pulled away and could no longer hear him, he roared his bike to life.
Nina would lead him to Terry, he was certain of it, so certain he hurried to catch up, following Ms. Monteverde home.
Anything to keep his mind off the sound of Mitch’s voice. That gruff, terrorized worry brought Rick far too close to the time when he could feel such things, too. To a time when he could still be disappointed by the people and circumstances in his life.
When he could still get hurt.
He’d done some hurting of his own, which would haunt him to his dying day.
He hadn’t always been a bounty hunter. Once upon a time he’d grown up under the eye of his sweet, lovely mother, a woman who’d been deserted by his father while in labor with Rick. Poorer than dirt and alone in the world together, they’d done fine. Better than fine, actually. His mother had seen to it.
She’d gotten him through childhood before dying of breast cancer, but by then he had the basics down, her morals and love of life.
Everything was an adventure back then, wildly dangerous, and right up Rick’s alley. He’d been untouchable in those days, and had thrived on it.
Until he’d met Mary Jo Anderson, the second sweet, lovely woman in his life, a witness he was charged to protect until she could testify in a murder case. With her help, they could bring down a very wanted man. If all went well, it was a case that would make everyone’s career.
Rick was in his element. Until he looked into Mary Jo’s wide, innocent eyes, that is.
Up to that point, he’d managed to go his entire life without sharing his heart. He’d shared his body plenty, but never anything else, so no one could have been more surprised when he fell for Mary Jo. It had softened him, and made him stupid. Careless.
But nothing could happen to her, not with Rick looking out for her, right? Oh yeah, he’d been a cocky son of a bitch.
And Mary Jo had been killed.
His fault. He hadn’t been able to stop her murder, or protect her, though he’d sworn to both his country and Mary Jo to do exactly that.
Things had gone straight to hell in a handbasket after that. Destroyed, Rick had walked away from all he’d ever known, and spent months aimlessly wandering the globe, looking for trouble and often finding it. He’d finally ended up in Rio. Something about the sinful, wild, pagan city appealed to his troubled soul, and he’d been here ever since.
It had been four years, and thankfully he’d managed to bury those memories for good. Only in the occasional dream was he forced to relive them, and he’d awaken drenched in sweat and tears and remind himself that having no emotions and no heart was the only way to live.
It worked for him, allowed him to be the best bounty hunter there was, because without feelings, no one could touch him. He liked that.
Nina led him out of the ritzy business district and into the ritzy residential district, but as Rick stayed back far enough to remain anonymous, he realized something.
They weren’t alone.
A low-profile sedan followed him following Nina, keeping well back, but definitely on their tail.
Normally, his adrenaline would have kicked in, and so would the thrill of the chase and the highly anticipated victory.
His adrenaline did kick in, but oddly enough not the thrill. He didn’t like the thought of someone else after Nina. It was the damn memories haunting him now, he knew. But he’d gone soft once, and as a result, had lost the dearest thing to him.
That could never happen again since he no longer had a heart, but as he drove through the starlit Rio night, Rick hit the gas pedal with an uneasy urgency.
* * *
THE FIRST THING Nina did inside her condo was lock and double lock her door. She had goose bumps up and down her limbs, and though she could have called any one of her father’s men over to check on her, she felt silly.
The tough, brooding American was long gone, and she was safe.
As always, she raced to check her mail, hoping, praying... Flipping hurriedly through the bills and advertisements, she held her breath.
But no little letter from Baba, her old nanny, as arranged and promised through Terry. No news of her sister at all.
Nina sank to the couch, for once blind to the incredible view of the deep-blue bay spread out before her from floor-to-ceiling windows. She felt sick, and so tense she could have shattered.
Terry, whereever she was, had been sending twice monthly letters through Baba. Those letters said precious little, but they’d been all Nina had, and she’d treasured each one, hoarding it close to her heart for several hours before forcing herself to burn it.
She hadn’t received one in over a month, and every day Nina grew more frantic.
Now there was an American asking around and he had a picture of Terry with a man she’d never seen.
It all combined to tell Nina the truth. Her sister was in trouble, even deeper trouble than being framed for embezzlement and smuggling gems.
Grabbing the phone, praying Rio’s notoriously bad phone service was in order, Nina dialed Baba. She woke the poor woman up, and quickly asked the same question she’d been asking her almost nightly now for weeks.
“Any word?”
“Nada, minha amada.”
Nothing, my sweetheart.
Baba didn’t say more, but she didn’t have to—it was all there in her voice, the fear, the worry. Nina hung up and tried to calm herself, but the feeling of dread continued to intensify. Something had happened, something had gone wrong.
What was she going to do?
The American kept popping into her head. How had he gotten that picture? And what did he want with Terry?
Would he just go away?
She wanted to think so, but despite appearances, she wasn’t that naive. The man had been too focused, too intense for him to simply vanish without getting what he wanted.
And too extraordinary.
That she’d even noticed during those few moments of terror really disturbed her, but there was no denying there’d been something in his gaze, something deep and nearly hidden that had startled her.
Pain.
The realization rocked her, then made her laugh. The man had terrified her. Yet she’d bothered to notice his hidden pain.
She needed help, serious help.
A sound from the kitchen distracted her, and she went still for one second, before grabbing a fire poker from the fireplace she never used.
The only sound now was her own ragged breathing as she tiptoed to the double swinging doors and peeked in.
Nothing.
She’d spooked herself, and just as she let the air out of her lungs, the phone rang, causing her to nearly leap out of her skin. With a hand to her chest, she shook her head at herself and picked up the receiver.
“Nina, the financials are due in the morning.”
The gruff, no-nonsense, no greeting was typical of John Henry. He was second in command of All That Glitters, next to her.
It hadn’t always been that way. Once upon a time, before she and Terry had been old enough to take the reins, John Henry had run the place for their invalid father.
And when their father had deemed the surprisingly business-savvy Terry old enough to take over, he’d removed the job from John Henry without qualm, leaving the fiercely ambitious man reporting to a woman he not so secretly felt was beneath him.
He’d never forgiven any of them for that, and Nina, the only one left to deal with him on a daily basis, got to face the brunt of his attitude. “The financials are complete,” she said, ignoring his silent surprise that she’d done her job. She always did her job, sometimes at the expense of her own happiness, but that he expected her to fail, even wanted her to, hurt. “But thank you for your offer of help.”
He ignored the dry quip. “Everything is good?”
The tall, stern, perpetually frowning man wasn’t asking about her health or her life, she’d learned the hard way. On her first day, John Henry had asked her the same question, and at the thought that she was only there because Terry was dead and buried, she’d burst into tears.
John Henry had simply walked out of her office without a word, coming back when she’d composed herself.
“Everything is perfectly in balance,” she said now.
“Did you include the paperwork your father had worked on during his last visit to Arraial do Cabo?” he asked.
“Yes, I—” Oh, no. The Monteverde vacation estate! Good Lord, how could she have so completely forgotten?
Nina had long ago gone through her sister’s condo, burning everything and anything that could have been used against Terry. Correspondence, notes, journals, everything.
Illegal, yes, but Nina hadn’t cared. Her sister was innocent, framed for whatever reason, and the authorities had gone along with it, so all rules had been off as far as Nina was concerned. She’d have done far worse to protect her sister.
People thought of Nina as the good girl. Ha! If they only knew the fire she had burning deep within her, the fierce love and sense of loyalty she felt toward her family.
But she’d forgotten the vacation home she hadn’t been to since Terry’s “death.” Who knew what her sister had out there that could be used to track her down.
“Nina?”
“Yes, John Henry,” she said carefully. “I am here. And you are quite right, I had forgotten about the paperwork at the vacation estate.”
His silence said volumes about what he thought of her first and only “mistake.”
“In fact,” she said trying to contain her sudden attack of nerves, “I need to drive up to Arrairal do Cabo myself. I will leave now and be back at the office by tomorrow afternoon the latest.”
“If you insist.”
He could have offered any one of a dozen minions to make the three-hour drive and handle the chore for her, but he didn’t, and for once Nina was grateful John Henry was selfish and bitter and resentful.
She needed to go, and she needed to go alone.
* * *
NINA MADE THE TRIP into the mountains with nothing but her own nerves for company.
It was horrifying how the mind could play tricks. She imagined she was being followed. Imagined being kidnapped and tortured.
Imagined her sister dead for real.
But common sense came over her. First of all, no one knew where she was going besides John Henry, and while he was a cranky pain in her behind, he wouldn’t do anything to hurt his precious job.
As for being followed, the road was so well traveled by both locals and tourists, even this late at night, that it would be nearly impossible for anyone to follow her, especially a gorgeous, brooding American not familiar with the winding highway.
Besides, she simply wasn’t that important. Not to anyone, not anymore. Her father was house-bound and cared for by his adoring servants. She visited him every other week, and while he appreciated her running All That Glitters, he didn’t seem to need anything more from her.
Ah, that was it.
Self-pity.
She was feeling that strange, inexplicable loneliness again, the sense that there was no one she could trust with the real Nina Monteverde.
With a skill that came from long years of practice, she pushed the feelings away. But when she pulled up to the family estate, the beautiful Spanish-style ranch that sprawled thirty acres over the mountainside, memories washed over her.
Here was where they’d spent many summers, she and her sister, watched over by servants and Baba. It hadn’t been a hardship, because for the most part they’d been left alone to do as they pleased.
For Terry it had been sunbathing and boy gazing.
For Nina, it had been reading and secret boy gazing. She’d never had the nerve and splashiness of her sister, and now, given the life Terry had been forced to lead for the past year and a half, Nina should be content.
But the truth was, she’d always admired Terry for knowing what she wanted, for going after it with such complete abandon. To know Terry was to look at her. She’d worn her life and emotions on her sleeve for all to see.
No one could look at Nina and know her life’s ambitions, and certainly not her emotions. She’d been hiding them so long she wasn’t even certain herself anymore who she really was.
Going inside, she carefully locked up behind her. Then, because it was so late and she felt more exhausted than she could ever remember feeling, she made her way directly to her bedroom.
She’d search the place first thing in the morning.
Yawning, she undressed. With one look out into the incredible night sky awash with millions of stars, their reflection dancing over the wild, dark mountains, her head hit the pillow and she was out.
* * *
SHE DREAMED BADLY, and as she tossed and turned, she attributed it to the fact she hadn’t yet done what she’d come for.
God only knew what clues Terry had left in her hurry to escape Brazil, and now that someone was looking for her, Nina felt that urgency as her own.
But she finally fell into a deep sleep, this time dreaming of fire-green, searing eyes and the intense expression of the American’s arresting face as he leaned toward her, over her, closer and closer with that long, beautifully formed body of his, until her breath backed up in her lungs.
Was he going to kiss her?
Was that why her body tingled in vibrant awareness, her pulse dancing and leaping as she arched closer?
His hands reached out, and she imagined them caressing her every inch, giving her pleasure such as she’d never known.
But instead they circled her neck and started to squeeze.
That’s when she remembered, even deeply asleep, that the lean, edgy man wasn’t just beautiful.
He was dangerous.
She needed to remember that, and promised herself she would as she shifted into a more normal sleep. She dreamed of Terry, of their happy, care-free childhood as a watchful part of her chased away the disturbing dreams.
And awakened with a silent scream when a hand covered her mouth.
“Where is she?”
Nina could see nothing, which added to her terror. Kicking out into the dark room, she found herself pinned to the mattress, a hard, powerful body stretched out over hers, her arms immobile above her head.
“Come on, Nina.” He said the name slowly, purposely, in his very American way, and she knew instantly who held her so intimately. “Tell me.”
Fear clouded her brain for a moment, before her rare temper took over and she remembered to use her knee forcefully.
A satisfying grunt sounded in her ear, but he recovered quickly, simply using his superior strength and weight to hold her still. “Hey! Careful!”
That he sounded more incredulous than angry didn’t stop her from struggling, and though he was on to her now, she still gave him a good fight.
“Don’t, damn it,” he grated in her ear, doing his best to both hold her and fight her off, but her fear and temper had dulled her mind, and she fought him mindlessly, getting in one more carefully aimed knee before he pressed her hard into the mattress.
Lifting his head, chest heaving from the exertion, he spoke an inch from her mouth. “Lord, you’re a squirmy little thing.”
His skin was warm, his body hard with muscle. His weight wasn’t uncomfortable, which disturbed her.
So did the way her body seemed to welcome his thigh thrust high between hers, forcing her legs open. Despite the confusing, mixed signals her brain sent, she continued to struggle. “Get off me!”
“Soon as you promise not to scratch my eyes out. Or other, more critical parts.”
“I promise.” She’d promise him the moon if he’d get off her.
He slanted her a doubtful gaze, then sighed the sigh of a martyr, as though he was the one being inconvenienced. “Look, your virtue is safe with me, all right? You’re not even my type, so just relax and answer my questions.”
Not only had he invaded her home and scared her half to death, but she was quite certain she’d just been insulted. “Get off me!”
“First tell me why you have two goons following you. Oh, and the question of the day, of course. Where is your sister?”
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_63aa3dc9-751f-5727-8305-78eebe1c38c0)
“THERE IS NO ONE following me but you!” Nina cried.
“Not anymore,” Rick agreed. “Because once they saw you pull in here, they took off.”
She stopped struggling for a second. “You... must be mistaken.”
“And your sister?”
“I told you, she is dead.”
Rick stared down into Nina’s face, seeing the fear and fury, highlighted by the faint moonlight coming in the window.
Her fear bothered him. He knew he should reassure her he didn’t rape and pillage for a living, but all he could think was...did she not realize he could see right through her? Everything about her, the wide eyes, the uneven breathing, the not quite direct eye contact—everything told him she was lying through her teeth.
He’d seen and done it all, and as a result knew most people were capable of deception. Maybe he’d turned cynical, yes, but he had good reason to be exactly who and what he was, down to his very toes.
All he knew was that this woman, sweet and lovely as she may be, had lied, because a woman who’d died a year and a half ago couldn’t have given birth a couple of months later.
“Try again,” he said, wanting this over with. Her lie wasn’t the only thing getting to him. Every time he’d seen her in the two days he’d been staking out All That Glitters, she’d been fully dressed in colorful but modest business attire. Even her hair had been restrained.
But now...my God. Now she was the antithesis of that cool, elegant woman. Her chestnut hair sprawled across the pillow in silken waves, and also across his arm, which still held her hands over her head. It was long and thick and scented with some shampoo that made him want to lean in close and sniff some more.
And her body... Well, she most definitely had one. She wore a thin cotton T-shirt. No bra. And since she was pressed to him like shrink-wrap, he could feel her warm, full breasts, her nipples drilling holes into his chest. One arm of the shirt had slid off her shoulder in their tussle, revealing a smooth, tanned shoulder that he had the most ridiculous urge to bend down and bite.
And that was before he realized he lay between her spread thighs, having put himself in that erotic position during their struggle. Even worse, the hem of her T-shirt had tangled around her waist, revealing a pair of plain white cotton panties that suddenly seemed sexier than the most revealing lingerie.
She was amazing.
And her eyes spit bullets. He understood then that the restrained, almost prim woman he’d seen at work was a cover-up. A sham. There was nothing restrained or prim about her.
At the thought, his body reacted, and shoved up against the V of her opened legs as he was, he knew she could feel him. He forced himself to look into her face and found her staring up at him with a mixture of expressions all her own.
Horror.
And reluctant, befuddled arousal.
That made two of them, he thought grimly, pulling back enough that she could close her legs together, which she did so quickly that she slid against the front of his jeans, causing more torture.
At the helpless groan ripped from him, she closed her eyes.
He cleared his husky throat. “About your sister.”
As she had before, she drove her knee up, and since he’d started to relax his hold, her aim was far more accurate this time, hitting him high on the inside of his left thigh. High enough to send stars dancing across his vision. The breath whooshed out of him and he swore the air blue.
Cringing back as far as she could go, Nina closed her eyes tighter.
And damn it, that little protective gesture made him feel like a jerk. “I told you I’m not going to hurt you. I just want the truth.”
It should bother him, he supposed, that he was holding back plenty of truths himself. One, he feared Terry was in deep danger. Two, Mitch clearly imagined himself in love with her. And three, she’d left a baby on a doorstep in Texas.
But Nina probably knew all of that. And yet if that was true, why hadn’t Terry left her baby with Nina?
There had to be a damn good reason for that, and until he knew it, baby Hope remained a secret.
“I do not have the truth you seek,” Nina said in her formal but flawless English. “I have nothing for you.”
He was used to that—there weren’t many who had much for Rick. But he no longer cared. “I’m not going anywhere.” Deliberately, he lay more fully over her. “We can hang out all night, for all I care.”
“My sister is dead,” she whispered, her voice suddenly thick, which would have made him feel like an even bigger jerk if he hadn’t known that to be a lie.
Terry wasn’t dead. She’d just somehow managed to convince everyone else that it was true.
Question was, did Nina know that truth?
Right this very moment Mitch was probably holding the baby he and Terry had made together. Mitch believed Terry needed their help.
Rick didn’t yet know what he believed, but he would learn the truth.
“Terry isn’t dead,” he said slowly. “I know it and you know it. So stop repeating yourself and tell me something that I can use.”
“Why should I tell you anything?” She lifted her chin defiantly, though she still trembled beneath him. “I do not know who you are or what you want.”
He had no idea if it was her forced bravado or the way she spoke English without using contractions, but he softened toward her, just a little. “Okay, I’ll play. My name is Rick Singleton. I’m a bounty hunter. There. Now you know who I am and what I want.”
“A bounty hunter.” Her lips formed a perfect little O of distress. “You have been hired by the police to bring her back! But she is—”
“Dead. Yes, so you’ve said.” He stared down at her, wondering why the police would be looking for Terry. He was definitely missing most of this puzzle. “Maybe no one is fooled, Nina. What do the police want her back for?”
“To go to jail, of course, on that phony embezzlement charge. But she was set up, framed!”
“So you helped her escape.”
She closed her mouth.
“Maybe even helped her fake her death?”
“That would be against the law.”
Ah, things were starting to click into place. Terry had gotten herself in trouble with the Brazilian law.
And had she indeed been framed, as her sister clearly believed, or had the wild older sister bitten off more than she could chew?
He’d have to check that out.
In the meantime, there was really no harm in letting Nina in on a few details, especially if it would ease her mind and loosen her tongue a little. “I’m not with the police. I was hired by Finders Keepers, a private investigation service, to find your sister.” He wouldn’t say more now, not until he figured out what the hell was going on.
It seemed unlikely that this wide and wild-eyed innocent beauty could be tangled up in anything that would hurt Terry Monteverde, but Rick knew better than to blindly believe in anyone.
Proving that, Nina took advantage of his lax hold on her and rolled free of not only him, but the bed. When she tumbled to the floor, he dived after her, but she evaded him with a surprising agility and came to stand on the far side of the room, chest heaving, hair in her face.
They faced off like that for one split second, before she whirled and vanished out the door and down the hallway.
Damn it. With a sigh at her ignorance in thinking she could outrun him, he went after her, slamming his shin against a chest in her bedroom, then walking straight into the door, which she’d cleverly shut behind her.
Swearing, hopping on one foot, he started down the hallway after her, stopping only to pull a flashlight out of his pocket in order to avoid more injuries.
He had no idea how a little slip of a woman had gotten the best of him, but she definitely had, and it annoyed him. He’d gone easy on her—it had been those dark, mesmerizing eyes—but it wouldn’t happen again.
Her white T-shirt glimmered up ahead and he went after that. The hallway opened up into a huge, open living room. One entire wall was glass, overlooking the mountain vista. Light from the moon and stars filtered in, aiding him in the chase.
Nina’s shirt whipped up about her thighs, her bare feet flashing as they pumped, but he let her stay just ahead, hoping she’d exhaust herself. He couldn’t see tumbling her down to the hardwood floor, and since there was no way she was getting away from him again, he began to enjoy both the chase and the view she unwittingly gave him.
Oh, yeah, he was definitely going to be a fan of plain white underwear in the future.
Then she vanished behind a door.
He burst through it and found himself blinking in the bright glare of the kitchen, staring down a wild-looking Nina wielding...a can of juice?
“Stay back!” she commanded.
He couldn’t help it, he laughed. “Yeah, that’ll protect you.”
She looked so fierce holding her can. That T-shirt she wore was plain, white and stark. With her free hand she tugged on the hem, modestly pulling it tight across her chest in order to cover herself to midthigh.
He wondered what she’d say if he told her she’d made the shirt nice and sheer.
Oh, and that she was cold.
Somehow that damn shirt was the sexiest thing he’d seen, and yet innocence shimmered off her in waves.
He wanted to believe it was an act. After all, at work she’d been all suited up and reserved. But here, in bed and right now, she was rumpled and warm and absolutely, heart-joltingly beautiful.
“Why on earth,” he said, talking before thinking, a dangerous condition at the best of times, “do you go to all the trouble it must take to hide yourself in those uptight clothes during the day?”
It obviously wasn’t what she expected him to say. She went still as a rabbit for one heartbeat, before dropping the can and whirling toward the back door.
* * *
NINA DIDN’T get it opened; she didn’t have a chance before he was there, his chest to her back, his arms reaching past hers to hold the door firmly closed.
“I’m guessing you don’t want to talk about your dressing habits,” he said in her ear.
Sagging, she put her forehead against the wood, but all that did was sandwich her between the hard door and the even harder body of her pursuer.
“How about we talk about your sister, then?” he asked calmly.
Enraged, terrified, she fought.
He let her. She knew he thought it funny, both her pathetic struggles and the can of juice she’d nearly lobbed at his head, and she couldn’t stop picturing his wide, mocking grin.
All her life she’d been humored, and she resented it with every bit of her being. As a result, she continued to fight him like a wild cat.
He had no trouble keeping her pinned. When she tried to kick back, he simply pressed in closer, so close she could feel the power in his thighs, his belly, his chest. When she reached back instead, attempting to push him away, he ran his hands down her arms, manacling her wrists, holding them on either side of her head.
It infuriated her, both his superior strength and the way he used it against her. Refusing to give up, she kept fighting until finally she didn’t have a breath left in her body.
“Ready to talk?”
“Let go, you are hurting me.”
“If I let go, you’ll hurt me.”
As if she could! Making her feel even more insignificant, he didn’t loosen his hold, but somehow gentled it so that his hands no longer hurt her, and her body, quivering with indignation and exhaustion, was supported by his.
She felt weak and vulnerable, and she resented that more than anything. “I hate you.”
“Nothing personal, senhorita, but I’m not real fond of you myself.”
“Then go away!”
“I can’t. I’ve been hired to find your sister.”
“You have already said. And as I have already said, she is dead. Are you short on memory?”
He let out one bark of laughter. “You’re not much in a position to annoy me, Nina.”
But she thought maybe she was. If he’d been planning to hurt her, he’d have done so by now. She was banking on it. All she had to do was wait until he lowered his guard and she’d... She’d figure that out when the time came.
Hopefully.
In the meantime she tried to block out the feeling of his entire body against hers like a layer of paint. It should have disgusted her, should have continued to stoke her temper, but something odd was happening, as it had in her bedroom. She felt warm, from the inside out, sort of itchy and tingly, and she didn’t like it.
“Are you going to run again?” he asked.
“No.”
“Are you just saying that so I’ll back off?”
“Yes.”
He let out another short laugh. “Okay, one point for honesty. But I’m tired, Nina. So don’t push your luck.” Slowly, he pulled back, but only a few inches. Just enough that she could whirl around and face him.
And realize he was still way too close, because all she could think of was...him.
“Back to Terry,” he said, abruptly distracting her from the fact she knew that every inch of him was warm, hard and smelled like... Well, she hadn’t had many opportunities to be plastered against a man like this, but she imagined his scent was pure male. In any case, it was startlingly, annoyingly good.
“Is she hiding at another Monteverde estate?”
She looked up into his moss-green eyes. “Someone must be paying you a lot of money.” This was spoken bitterly, but she couldn’t help it. “I assume you want the money or gems Terry has been accused of embezzling, but as she never stole a thing in her life, I hope you rot in hell trying to find it.”
He didn’t so much as blink. “How about we start with the fact that I know she’s not dead. The two of you faked her death, right? So all you have to do is tell me where I can find her.”
Now it was her turn to laugh, but unfortunately, it sounded more like a choked-off cry of dismay.
He frowned, eyes narrowed. “I want an answer.”
“I do not have one for you.”
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