His girlfriend? Oh, she didn’t think so. “You wish,” she spluttered.
He grinned, pure shark. “Then you tell me how you plan to explain tagging around with me, plastered to my side, everywhere I go for the next few days.”
She stared, thinking hard. There had to be some other explanation. “How about I’ve convinced you to let me film your life? I can snag a cameraman from the network to follow us around.”
“Already thought of that. Thing is, I have a bit of a reputation when it comes to reporters.”
“Yeah, well, maybe I’m the reporter who changed all that.”
“Which brings us back to my conclusion that you’re going to have to pose as my girlfriend.”
She felt like growling. Or maybe stomping her foot. Talk about reputations—hers was going to be shredded after this little episode. She darn well hoped the Medusas appreciated what she was about to sacrifice for them. It had taken her years to establish credibility as a tough, fair, aggressive reporter who didn’t use her looks to get a story. Worse than that, though, was the annoying fact that he was right.
She huffed. “Fine. If anyone asks, I’m the girlfriend.”
A grin lit up Tom’s face. “Oh, when I’m done with you, they’ll ask, all right.”
Alarm blossomed in her stomach. Exactly what did he mean by that? “Look, Tom. I know we haven’t exactly gotten off on the right foot. But I have a career, here. And I need it to come out of this week intact if I’m going to be of any use to my…other…employers. Could you go just a little easy on me?”
“Honey, I’m a lot of things, but easy on my women is not one of them.”
She scowled, ignoring the flutter of interest in her gut at what it would be like to be his girlfriend for real and to experience the full broadside of his attention.
He interrupted her speculations abruptly. “I need to leave for a formal dinner meeting in less than an hour. Can you be spectacular by then?”
Less than an hour? Formal? Spectacular? Holy cow. Where was she going to get a decent dress in that amount of time? Last night’s ruined blue number was the only truly formal dress she’d brought with her on this assignment.
She must have hesitated too long because Tom groaned. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those women who takes four hours to get ready to go out.”
Her gaze narrowed. “I can take four hours, but I certainly don’t need four hours. My problem tonight is proper clothing.”
“Ah. Buy yourself something in the boutique downstairs and charge it to my room. Knock yourself out. But be ready to go in forty-five minutes.”
She narrowed her gaze and gave him a few orders of her own. “Don’t leave the suite while I’m gone. And don’t let anyone in until I get back. Got it?”
He grinned unrepentantly. “Honey, I was pulling personal security assignments before you knew what a bodyguard was. I know the drill.”
“Knowing it and following it are two different matters. Promise you won’t do anything stupid until I get back.”
His grin widened. “Roger. Hold the stupidity until you return. Got it.”
Thankfully, she was a decisive shopper and narrowed down her choices to two dresses in about five minutes. And then she simply bought the most expensive one. An off-the-rack Valentino, it was red and smashing, a sleeveless sheath slashing downward asymmetrically to a flared skirt that frothed around her legs, revealing glimpses of tanned limbs through its many-layered silk folds. Best of all, it would conceal a thigh holster without leaving any telltale bumps. And from now on, she was traveling armed at all times—not only because of would-be killers, but also because she wanted to be prepared to shoot the man she was supposed to protect. The pièce de résistance of her outfit was a pair of red evening gloves that extended above her elbows, and the wide Cartier bracelet, encrusted with diamonds, that went over the right glove. Its price tag approached a year’s salary for her. Gleefully, she charged that to Tom’s room, as well.
Outfit in hand, she raced down to the temporary news bureau to use the makeup kit there. She didn’t have time to do anything elaborate with her hair, so she merely pulled it back into a sleek ponytail and ran a flat iron through it. The austere style went nicely with the lines of the dress, and the garment’s brilliant color brought out the red highlights in her hair. She slipped her feet into barely there stiletto sandals with five minutes to spare, her Glock service pistol neatly tucked against her thigh along with a few other critical gadgets no girl commando should leave home without. Her gear had been smuggled in via a diplomatic pouch, which meant she had little by way of explosives and limited ammunition. Still, it was better than not being armed at all.
She knocked on Tom’s door exactly forty-five minutes after she had left to get ready. She was tempted to wait a minute just to get his goat but decided that being on time would ultimately annoy him more.
The door swung open. Gretchen answered it, and Paige’s eyebrows sailed up. So much for Tom following her instructions not to let anyone in.
His assistant smiled warmly. “You look marvelous, Miss Ellis. I’ll let him know you’re here.”
“Thanks.”
Pacing wasn’t really an option in these shoes, so she practiced kicking them off a few times in case she needed to get rid of them fast. She was just bending over to slip the strap back over her heel when the bedroom door opened. She straightened. And stared. There was no help for it. Tome Rowe in a tuxedo was one of those sights in life a woman just had to stare at.
His gaze raked down over her hot and fast, then back up slowly to her face. “The lady knows how to dress,” he murmured approvingly.
“Thank you,” she mumbled back, startled by the compliment.
He gestured toward the door. “Shall we? The hotel rang a few minutes ago to let me know my limo’s waiting.”
She nodded, and managed to beat him to the hallway door by about a foot. “I hate to break it to you, big guy, but I get to go first.”
His jaw tightened, but he made no comment as she stepped into the hall and looked it up and down. Deserted. She shot him the military hand signal for all clear and he joined her. They walked the short distance to the elevator, and he moved to one side without her having to tell him. If a gunman were inside when its doors opened, Tom’s position kept the shooter from having an immediate line of fire on him.
A bell rang and the doors slid open. Empty. Paige stepped inside and nodded at Tom. He stood beside her in silence, and they rode down to the lobby, each staring straight ahead, lost in their own thoughts.
As for her, two conversations were running in her head simultaneously. The first one was a quick review of security procedures, mapping the route through the hotel lobby in her head and considering possible hiding locations for an attacker as she moved Tom through the space.
The other conversation ran something along the lines of, “Breathe… Act like you do this sort of thing every day…. You always wear designer gowns and jewelry worth more than your house…. He is such a hunk…. Please, God, let him not figure out that I think so…. If only my teammates were here to do this security thing with me, then I wouldn’t be so jumpy…. Well, okay, I’d be this jumpy, just for different reasons…. Lord, he’s gorgeous in that tux….”
The combination of the two conversations kept her blessedly distracted enough not to register anyone staring at her as she and Tom strolled through the lobby. Her gaze roved back and forth in a steady sweep for threats.
“Keep looking around like that and you’ll get a reputation for being a jealous woman,” Tom murmured.
“So be it if I keep you alive,” she muttered back.
He stared for a moment and then broke into a grin. “Having you for a girlfriend is going to be interesting.”
“Enjoy the fantasy while it lasts,” she mumbled.
“I might say the same for you,” he retorted.
Regret knifed through her. Another time, another place, who knew what might have happened between them? It was a rotten shame, really.
They made it to the limo without any threats popping up, and she was relieved to slide into the spacious vehicle after him and close the bulletproof door. She needed a few minutes to rest. Just that short walk through the lobby had been intensely stressful. She was trained to work in teams of no less than four and more often teams of a dozen when it came to personal security. Doing solo duty was tantamount to having to think and act like several people all at once.
The limo ride was short, a few blocks down the beach to another resort fully as swanky as theirs, where a European delegation was hosting a meal for the key movers and shakers at the summit. Tom went over the guest list with her quickly in the car, and she couldn’t help but be impressed. If a bomb went off at this evening’s soiree and killed everyone there, the global economy wouldn’t recover for years.
When they arrived, if anyone raised their eyebrows at Tom’s dinner date for the evening, they did it behind Paige’s back. Still, there was a tangible undercurrent of other guests savoring the juicy gossip item they had suddenly become. Tom was right. By tomorrow morning, everyone on the island would be asking questions about the two of them. Dammit.
Of course it didn’t help that his hand kept straying to the small of her back, his fingers stroking down her arm, and God help her, his hand coming to rest lightly on the back of her neck. That one about had her leaping out of her skin with nervousness. The intimacy of it staggered her. She suspected her face was as scarlet as her dress by the time his hand finally drifted down her spine, leaving a trail of destruction in its wake.
The pair of suited security men stationed just outside the French doors leading to the beach were the only people present who didn’t act startled to see her with Tom. But they certainly were startled when she sidled up to them and asked for status reports on the security procedures at this hotel.
According to the guards, the place was locked down as tightly as the conference hotel, and this venue in specific had been thoroughly swept just an hour before the party. If the Medusas were here, they’d have conducted their own security sweep. But no such luck. For now, she’d have to rely on strangers to cover her and Tom’s backs.
Dinner was rich but blessedly served slowly enough so she could enjoy some of all the courses without fearing for the seams of her dress. The leisurely meal gave her plenty of time to study Tom in his native environment. The conversation over the meal was highly technical in nature and ranged across the spectrum of financial issues. Tom was fluent in them all and offered a number of sharp and insightful comments that the other financiers at the table listened to with respect. And considering the host of experts seated around the long table, that was no mean feat.
As coffee was poured all around and a course of sherbet served to cleanse palates before dessert, Tom leaned back in his chair and smiled at her. “Bored to tears yet?” he murmured.
“Actually, no. I’m finding the discussion fascinating. Although you do surprise me with some of the viewpoints you take. I’d love to hear more about why you think some of the things you do.” That sent one of his dark eyebrows upward. She continued, “Frankly, I expected you to be more worried about protecting your own best interests.”
That sent his other eyebrow up. “I have more than enough money for ten lifetimes. Why would I be greedy at this point in my career?”
“In my experience, the richer people are, the more interested they are in protecting their wealth.”
He grinned. “Some would argue that their concern with money is why they have a lot of it.”
She shrugged. “I’m still surprised. I had you pegged for a crusty old fart in the making.”
He laughed. “Honey, I’m a long way from that. But then, you haven’t been in bed with me—yet—so I won’t hold you responsible for not knowing.”
He just had to get in the jab at her, didn’t he? She shot him a look laced with irritation. “Good luck with that.”
His eyebrows climbed even higher. “Are you challenging me to get you into bed? What’s the bet?”
“I wouldn’t gamble with you to save my life, and I certainly wouldn’t take a bet over something like that.”
“Chicken,” he murmured silkily.
She smiled blandly. “You know, a couple of years ago I might have risen to that bait. But I know full well who and what I am these days.” And God bless her Medusa instructors for imparting that lesson to her. Although she doubted they’d ever intended to have it applied in exactly this scenario.
He leaned close, throwing his arm over the back of her chair, and whispered in her ear. “You and I both know you’re afraid to sleep with me. And I don’t need a bet to find the challenge irresistible.”
She turned her head and all but put her lips on his ear. “You hold on to your delusions because that’s all you’re ever going to get from me.”
He laughed low and husky, drawing the attention of several people around them. She suddenly found herself intently studying the napkin in her lap. She’d lay odds he’d engineered that little scene to make it look like they were flirting with each other. Although, come to think of it, she supposed they actually had been flirting. In their own rather bizarre, backward way.
After the meal, the men retreated to a smoking lounge to drink brandy and sample cigars, but Tom declined the invitation to join them. Which was nice of him. She would have hated to make a stink in front of all these people about not being separated from him. Instead, he suggested a walk on the beach.
Paige snorted. “Like that’s a better security option than you in a generally safe room full of your colleagues without me?”
He shrugged. “If there’s someone after me, I’d just as soon draw him out and take him down than hang around waiting for him to attack.”
It occurred to her that he must trust her training at least a little if he was willing to bet his life that she could stop whoever was out to get him. She probably didn’t deserve that much confidence. After all, this was her first time out in the field, and by herself, no less. Aloud, she asked, “Jeez. Am I that bad a girlfriend? You’d rather try to get yourself killed than spend a few days with me?”
He grinned and opened one of the French doors for her. She stepped into the sultry humidity of the night, relishing the darkness and the smell of the ocean.
“In truth, you’re a great deal more interesting than most of the women I go out with.”
She replied lightly, “That’s what you get for dating empty-headed supermodels.”
“Actually, some of them are highly intelligent. Good businesswomen. Nonetheless, I swore off supermodels for good after Mimi.”
“Mimi Ando?” she asked.
He paused at the end of the veranda and leaned down to untie his shoes. She followed suit and kicked off her heels. “Yeah. You know her?”
Paige answered, “I know of her. What’s she like?”
“Imagine a great white shark, but skinny and tall. And selfish. And childish. Oh, and mean.” He strode out into the sand.
Wow. A wee bit bitter, was he? After all this time? Mimi must have really done a number on him. Paige caught up to him, looking around for threats and begging her eyes frantically to adjust to the dark. “And you dated her why?”
He snorted. “I’d just made my first billion. I thought it was what I was supposed to do. You know. Get rich, get a famous, gorgeous girlfriend who puts you on the front pages of the tabloids.”
“How did things work out?”
He glanced at her as the sound of the ocean grew louder. “Not so great. I guess she didn’t want to wait around for me to die so she could get her hands on all my dough. She dumped me for another billionaire who was forty years older than me. She married him.”
“Did she make Takashi happy?”
“She didn’t speak a word of Japanese, and his French was barely adequate to order a meal in a restaurant. That was probably the key to their success at standing one another for as long as they did. I heard a few months back that there was trouble in paradise, but I don’t really follow such things. There are always rumors.”
“I really don’t like having you out in the open like this, Tom. You’re making me nervous. Can we please get you undercover?”
He shook his head. “How can you be a Medusa and not like to live dangerously?”
“There’s a difference between danger and stupidity, and this is the latter.”
He laughed. “You’re calling me stupid?”
“Yes. And reckless.”
“Well, then. What do you suggest I do, great mother hen?” He kicked at a seashell with a toe, examining it.
“Let’s go back inside. We’ll order a nice armored limo to take us back to the hotel where I can tuck you into—” Bang.
She dived on him before a curse could even form in her head. She knew that sound. High-powered rifle. Had Tom not bent down just then to pick up a shell, he’d likely be minus his face right now.
“Into the water,” she bit out. “Stay low. I’ll be on top of you.”
Cursing under his breath, he rolled beneath her to face her. Under other circumstances she might have gotten a thrill out of lying on top of Tom Rowe. But as it was, she was merely scared. And mad. She’d warned him.
“Let’s go get him,” Tom argued up at her.
“No. Absolutely not. Into the water now. No arguments, Tom. I’m the bodyguard.”
He stared at her for a long moment, and she waited, holding her breath. At the end of the day, she couldn’t force him to do anything. He would have to cede authority to her voluntarily.
He exhaled hard. “Okay, okay.” Then he added, “But as soon as we’re in the water, I want to try to spot him.”
“Fine. Just move,” she retorted, exasperated. Every second they delayed here on the beach gave the sniper more time to reload and zero in on them.
She did a push-up, and Tom rolled beneath her once more. It was awkward crab-walking above him as he crawled into the surf, but he was taking bigger facefuls of salt water than she was. Finally, the water became deep enough for him to swim out from under her and for her to push off the bottom and swim against the tide, as well.
She followed Tom away from shore until they were both bobbing on the waves several dozen yards out.
“See anything?” he asked.
She fumbled in her sodden dress, thankful that the light silk was not yards and yards of heavy cloth dragging her down and tangling in her legs. She unzipped her thigh pouch and felt around for the fist-size cylinder inside. She found it and pulled it out.
Treading water, she raised the spotter’s scope to her eye and scanned the shore. The optical device was used to help snipers find targets and zero in on the exact distance to them. And it worked great in a pinch as a small telescope.
“Color me impressed,” Tom commented from beside her. “You had a scope under that skirt?”
“Mmm hmm.” Odds were the sniper was sitting in the jungle just to the north of the hotel. Speaking of which, she saw a group of armed security men moving fast out of the hotel garden toward the trees she was scanning.
She reported to Tom, “Hotel security’s heading for that stand of jungle. Our shooter’s bugging out by now.”
“Let’s swim north and see if we can get ahead of him.”
She glanced over at Tom. “We’re swimming. He’s running. No way will we outpace him.”
“We will if he’s having to move stealthily.”
“Maybe,” she replied unconvinced. “But then there’s the little problem of actually getting in front of him and putting you squarely into his sights again. Sorry. No can do.”
“Dammit, Paige. He’s right over there. If we can catch him, the threat to me is eliminated for good.”
“I disagree.”
He looked over at her, startled. “How’s that?”
“The shooter’s a hired gun. Somebody is bankrolling him. We catch this shooter and another one will be hired to replace him. The key to making you safe is to figure out who wants you dead.”
Tom was silent at that, which she took for tacit admission that she was right. Then he said, “If we catch the shooter, maybe he’ll tell us who hired him.”
“C’mon, Tom. Think. The shooter won’t talk unless we torture him, and even then, he probably won’t know who hired him. The deal will have been done by intermediaries who never met face-to-face.”
She thought she heard a sigh drift across the water. Then he murmured, “Vanessa Blake does pick smart women to work for her.” Bang.
They both flinched hard and she shoved him reflexively under the water as she ducked under herself. She bobbed up first, and when Tom emerged, she bit out, “You hit?”
“No, but that was close. I felt the bullet go by.” He sounded distinctly more tense than before. Good. Maybe he was finally taking the threat to his life seriously.
“How far can you swim?” she asked, weighing her options for getting him back under safe cover. She’d met him with a surfboard in hand. Please let that mean he was a strong swimmer.
He grunted. “As far as you need me to, boss.”
Thank goodness. And thank goodness he was finally feeling cooperative, too. “Your resort’s about a mile down the beach from here—” Bang.
She swore mentally as she ducked underwater again. That shot had passed right between her and Tom. And they weren’t more than two feet apart. She swam off to the south, tugging on Tom’s shirt to indicate that he should go with her.
When they both surfaced she panted, “Head south and stay under except for breathing!”
Tom moved in the direction she indicated and she followed close behind. They swam in tense silence, each concentrating on keeping a low profile. And she suspected Tom was praying just like she was that the sniper didn’t get another decent shot at him. That last one had been way too close for comfort. She placed herself between Tom and the shore, trying to time surfacing to breathe with his bobs to the surface. It wasn’t much by way of protecting him, but it was the best she could do out here.
The shooter took another shot at them, but it sprayed well wide. Thankfully, water changed the trajectory of bullets enough that she wasn’t worried about getting hit as long as she and Tom stayed mostly under the surface. But as they swam, her thoughts churned. Was there more than one shooter? Surely the guy parked just north of the hotel had been chased away by that squad of hotel security men. The thought of a team of hit men coming after Tom made her sick to her stomach.
After about thirty minutes of swimming with no more shots fired, she felt fairly certain the sniper or snipers had abandoned the idea of shooting at them again this evening. Still, she didn’t relish bringing Tom ashore and exposing both of them at the water’s edge. She didn’t want to endanger him more than she absolutely had to. She needed a stretch of beach where the water was deep right up to the shoreline, and with plenty of cover once they got ashore.
And she knew just the spot.
She tapped Tom’s foot and he surfaced, treading water. She asked between pants, “Have you got another mile or so of swimming in you?”
“Yeah. You?”
She was gratified to hear him breathing hard. “Me? I’m fine. You see that rock promontory sticking out into the water a ways ahead?” When he nodded, she continued. “We’re headed for a spot just beyond that.”
“Then what?” he replied.
“Then you and I go to ground.”