NINA WOKE UP rumpled, exhausted and disoriented. With her eyes still closed, she stretched, but instead of luxurious, expensive silk, she felt... rough jersey cotton?
Eyes jerking open, she took in the small but masculine room, and it all came rushing back to her.
Rick.
Her apartment.
Rick.
He’d let her sleep in his bed, the entire night if the clock that read nine o’clock was any indication, and he hadn’t taken advantage of her.
Darn it, what was wrong with him?
He’d withdrawn from her, no doubt about it. She’d allowed herself to hope and dream...but there was nothing for it, not now. He’d decided to be cool and distant, and as he was the most stubborn person she’d ever met, she doubted anything could change his mind.
Certainly not his past, which ripped at her. He’d suffered, and she knew that the pain and guilt were still raw for him.
It was selfish to wish things could be different, and she was so rarely selfish, but she felt it now.
Lord, her life had gone to pot. After agonizing over that for a moment, she decided to stick to her earlier plan. She’d go see Baba. She knew there was no news, but she felt the urge to see her old nanny. If only for comfort.
If, as she suspected, there was really nothing new, then she had little choice. She would trust Rick enough to help her help Terry, and hope that along with her trust, he might give her his.
With that decision made, she sat up and shoved her hair out of her face. It was time for action.
Climbing out of the big, cozy bed that smelled just like Rick, she grabbed the small bag she’d taken from her condo and headed for the shower. There were many things she would have to do today, the least of which would be figuring out exactly how to get to see Baba without Rick following her, but first a shower. In her day-old clothes and makeup, which had long ago smudged off, she felt exposed. She wasn’t ready for exposed, not with Rick.
The water was hot and steamy, just as she liked it, and she forced herself to hurry so there’d be hot water for Rick if he wanted a shower.
She wondered how he’d slept.
She knew how he looked when he slept. As magnificent as he looked doing everything else. All those years of chasing after bad guys, running and hiding and whatever else it was he did, had honed his lean muscular frame into a mouthwatering art form. Just thinking about it made her entire body throb. Everywhere she washed, then everywhere she dried off with his towel felt like an open, erotic nerve, and she knew for the first time in her life she had it bad.
She wanted him.
Now she understood Terry a bit better, the hunger that had always driven her sister to chase after one man or another.
And she wasn’t sure she liked it.
When she had some makeup on, and a full ensemble that would be acceptable to go from seeing Baba to the office, Nina looked at herself in the mirror.
Normally she saw a cool-eyed, restrained woman, the same woman she let people see. But that woman was gone, replaced by a bright-eyed, frightened, real woman.
Somehow, she’d come to be...well, herself. And Rick had seen her this way. She’d let him in past the obedient little sister-daughter-businesswoman. He’d seen her, really seen her, as no one else ever had.
She would deal with that.
Later.
First up, she had to escape long enough to do what she had to do.
She found him in the small kitchen, wearing faded, threadbare jeans and nothing else, standing at the stove scrambling eggs.
The sight of him cooking, chest bare, belly flat, hair sticking straight up, scrambled her brain as surely as those eggs in the pan.
Craning his neck, he peered at her from sleepy eyes that became instantly wide-awake and heated.
“Good morning,” she said, a little breathless. His back was sleek and smooth and tough with sinew. His front was sleek, too, and rippled with strength.
She could look at him all day long and never get used to how good he looked.
This had never happened before.
Her one serious boyfriend had been in college. She’d lost her virginity to him, and then he’d moved on. She’d declined to share herself again, and had no other experience of intimacy to draw on. “Um...thank you for your bed.”
His gaze traveled up her body slowly. “Did you sleep well?”
“Yes. Did you?”
“No.”
“I am sorry. Was the couch too small? Too uncomfortable?”
“Yes, but that wasn’t the problem.”
“Problem?”
“Yeah.” He set down the spatula. “Truth?”
“Uh...okay, yes.”
“I couldn’t stop dreaming about you sprawled out in my bed.”
She nearly staggered backward at the intensity of his gaze. “In this dream...were we together?”
One brow arched to the middle of his forehead.
“Oh,” she said quickly. “We were....” She was breathless. “Was I...naked?”
His green, green eyes darkened. “Most definitely naked.”
She licked her suddenly dry lips. “Was I... good?”
“You were good. You were hot.”
She felt hot now.
His voice was low, thick. “Last night was the first time I’ve ever had a sleep-over with a woman without actually even sleeping with her.”
“Last night was the first night I ever had a sleepover with a man, other than the night before. Which was also with you.” She hadn’t meant to say that. He made her tongue loose, he made her loose.
He looked uneasy. “You mean...without sleeping?”
“Period.”
They stared at each other for a long, long moment, then the toast popped up, making Nina jump.
“Hungry?” he asked, as if he hadn’t just rocked her world. “I’ve got eggs and toast.”
What she was hungry for had nothing to do with food, and she was fairly certain he felt the same. Not that he was going to act on that hunger, which was good.
Nerves were dancing in her stomach. “I need to get to the office.”
“Okay.” He scooped the eggs onto two plates and, nudging her into a chair, set one in front of her. “I’ll take you.”
“That is not necessary.”
“I’ll take you,” he repeated, handing her a fork. “Then I’ll go pick up my bike.”
“I am going to be busy all day.”
“So am I.” He shoveled in some eggs from his plate and didn’t look at her.
Appetite gone, she set down her fork. “Doing...?”
“Checking out the library. Do you still have that yearbook with you?”
“Yes.”
“I want the name of that friend.”
“But why the library?”
“I’m going to look at any microfiche I can find of the boating accident.”
He wasn’t giving up. That should cheer her, make her feel as if she could be open with him, but instead, for some reason, it terrified her.
“Eat,” he said, gesturing to her untouched plate.
She forced a smile. “Funny, but for a man who claims not to want anyone in his life or his heart, you sure take care of people well.”
He went still for a moment, then shrugged. “I was hungry myself, that’s all.”
“It had nothing to do with anything else?”
A frown crossed his face. “Such as?”
“Such as maybe you care about me.”
He looked at her for a long moment. “I care about you in the way I don’t want anything to happen to you,” he said carefully.
Now his smile was back. “No more than you trust me, sweetheart.”
* * *
IT WASN’T QUITE as easy to ditch Rick Singleton as she’d imagined. He took her to her office as promised, but when she walked toward the building, slowly, hoping he’d vanish so she could get back into her car and go see Baba, he was still there. Leaning against the car, feet crossed.
Watching.
When he saw her looking at him, he lifted a hand and waved.
But didn’t budge.
With a sigh, she went inside the building, then peeked out a window, watching as Rick finally caught a cab. She knew he was off to get his bike, then to the library. And given their archaic library system, compared with the one in States, she was satisfied he’d be gone a good long while.
She stuffed the financial file she’d brought for John Henry into his mail slot. Dodging back into the heat without checking in, she got into her car and started along the highway, becoming more and more unsettled as she drove.
No big deal, she told herself. She was just visiting Baba. No one would think it strange.
No one would think to try to find Terry through Baba.
But because that was one of Nina’s biggest fears, that somehow she would lead someone to Terry through actions she considered innocent, she drove faster.
When she arrived, she parked on the street and walked up the curved, crumbling walkway to the teeny house her father had bought Baba when she’d retired. It was an old but beautiful place, overlooking the sea.
It had been Baba’s only request, along with frequent visits from Terry and Nina, which they’d done until Terry’s arrest. Since then Nina had stayed away as well, afraid to put a connection between the woman and Terry’s disappearance.
As she climbed the stairs, she glanced at the hillside and the extensive gardens the older woman had so lovingly planted over the years. Normally the place was alive with color and growth, but the flowers were dry now, starting to wilt. Very odd, as Baba’s garden was a source of pride and joy. Hurrying her steps, Nina wondered if Baba had fallen ill, and if so, why she hadn’t said so two nights ago.
At the top of the stairs, she stopped short, heart in her throat.
Just as Nina’s own had been the day before. A coincidence, she tried to tell herself. But as she knocked, the door swung open, revealing more terror.
No destruction, as there’d been at Nina’s condo, but worse.
On the tile foyer lay the huddled, far too still form of Baba.
* * *
IT TOOK RICK an hour to get the librarian to help him. She was as short as she was round and ancient, and she spoke very little English.
Another hour was spent cooling his heels while she went painstakingly through the archives to find the requested microfiche. Just when he was about to blow his lid, his patience long gone, she reappeared.
“We close for lunch in twenty minutes,” she said in Portuguese.
“I’m going to need at least an hour—”
With a sweet, uncomprehending smile, she walked away.
“Wait!” He tried to translate into Portuguese, but she kept walking. Swearing colorfully in both Portuguese and English, he took several dirty looks from the people milling around. Rick gave them the look right back and got to work. Apparently he didn’t have time to mess around.
Ten minutes whipped by while he digested all the information he could. Everything about the sailing accident seemed suspicious to him. First, there’d been warnings of an approaching storm. Second, Terry was not a boat person. By all accounts, she’d rather lie on the beach and tan her body than get on a sailboat, much less work one.
Alone, no less.
None of it made any sense, and as he finished reading all the articles and accounts, he switched to the photos given.
And hit the jackpot.
It was a picture of the investigation. They’d pulled the wrecked sailboat in. It lay on its side on the sand, and several authority figures had been photographed milling around taking notes and measurements.
Behind them, and behind the police line, was a small crowd, all unidentified, all watching.
Front row and center was a woman who looked haggard and full of fear. She had corkscrew auburn curls, and was the woman in the yearbook picture with Terry, the best friend from school. The woman most likely to sail around the world for the rest of her life.
A master sailor, in other words.
Not someone who would let her friend die in a sailing accident.
Damn, Rick wished he’d gone through Nina’s bag and taken that yearbook, but she hadn’t wanted to give it to him and he’d let it go, not willing to resort to stealing it.
He hated when his conscience got in the way of his work, and it wouldn’t happen again.
Why had there been no mention of Terry having a friend with her that day?
“We are closing for lunch.”
His friend the librarian again. “Yeah.”
“Now, senhor.”
“I just need a few more—”
“Now.”
Since she was still smiling at him so sweetly, he smiled back, his most charming smile. “I just need—Hey!” He stood up when she ripped out the microfiche, grabbed the box with the others in it and walked away from him. “I wasn’t finished!”
She simply sent him another sweet smile over her shoulder.
Fine. He was finished. At least here. He had to hook back up with Nina and get that yearbook, whether she liked it or not. He’d find Terry through the friend. Case over.
And if something deep inside protested, if he wondered if he could really walk away from Nina, he ignored it.
* * *
SHE WASN’T at work as she’d promised. Rick stood in front of the huge reception desk of All That Glitters, watching the woman consult the logbook from that morning.
She shook her head. “No, she never arrived.”
Rick was overcome with dread. He knew damn well she’d arrived, he’d dropped her off himself. “She never came in?”
“No, senhor.”
He’d watched her walk into the damn building himself, which meant one of two things. Either she’d somehow gotten by the receptionist...or she’d fooled him.
She’d fooled him.
Damn her. Didn’t she know anything could happen to her without his protection? And where the hell had she gone? What had been so riveting, so dire, so important that she’d had to trick him into thinking she was going to work, and then sneak out?
Something to do with Terry.
She’d held back on him, he’d known that, but he’d looked into her deep, melting eyes and fallen for the warmth and affection he’d seen swimming there.
What an idiot.
And so was she, because like it or not, she’d attracted some attention. Whether it was the person who had supposedly framed her sister or some new threat, he had no idea, but it scared him that she would put herself in danger.
Or maybe there was no danger at all.
Maybe she was the bad guy.
No. He couldn’t be that far off the mark, not with Nina.
But she’s fooled you so far, pal, hasn’t she?
He wanted to think there could be any number of reasons why she’d go to such lengths to make him believe she was going to work, then not go at all.
But none of them pointed to anything innocent.
How had a little slip of a woman gotten the better of an ex-Navy SEAL and federal marshal for God’s sake? He was definitely losing his touch.
And his cool.
It was happening just as it had before, with Mary Jo. He was letting his emotions in on this roller-coaster ride. A big mistake.
It wouldn’t happen again.
Back on his motorcycle, he took the crowded streets as fast as he dared, making his way to Nina’s condo.
The place was closed up tighter than a drum.
No Nina.
He knocked, then pounded on the door, but it didn’t change anything.
Nina was gone.
Frantic, he turned back to his bike, wondering where the hell she’d gone, where the hell he’d go looking for her, when he heard her car.
She pulled up, turned off the engine and leaned her head on the steering wheel.
“Where have you been?” he demanded, stalking over to where she still sat, unmoving.
When she lifted her head, her face was paler than a ghost, her pupils round as saucers. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.
Blood coated the front of her blouse.