Part 17 (1/2)
He took a step back, looking up into her face. Her skin was flushed with pa.s.sion, but her eyes were filled with sad resolve.
”You said you wanted me.”
”I do want you.”
”So why the chill?”
”I don't like being used.” She held up a hand to his mouth, covering his lips gently as he started to object. ”I know it's not how you mean it, but it's the end result. Being together, working on the case, having to set up a sting-it gives us a neat excuse to go further, but we shouldn't act on it.”
”Why the h.e.l.l not? I want you, you want me-we can be relatively sure no one's watching in here, so what's the problem?”
She smiled a little, and it actually made her look even more sad, which made it hard for him to breathe. He knew almost before she spoke and sucked in a deep breath, getting control of himself. She was right. He'd totally lost his focus about why they were there. He should be thinking only of finding Mel, and hopefully the other two missing women. They had a job to do, and he had let it go completely in his pursuit of Sarah. He shook his head in disgust with himself, and then looked up to meet Sarah's eyes as she spoke.
”Where are we heading, Logan? What's next?” She bent to pick up the towel. ”What is this? What am I to you? I thought we laid things out pretty clearly back at the inn-you don't respect my job, don't like what I do.”
”I don't like you putting yourself in bad situations. And this is one-I'd lost track of that for a few minutes, and I have to apologize.” His voice had turned stiff, and he just wanted to have this over with; it was all getting too complicated.
”But danger is part of my job. Not every day, but when I need to deal with it, I do. I don't-and can't and won't-sit behind a computer all day and let other people go take the risks. That's not how it's done. That's not who I am.”
”I just can't stand the thought of you getting hurt.”
”Just because your mother and sister got hurt, just because Mel got hurt, doesn't mean I will.”
”You could.”
”So could you-it doesn't mean I would ask you to be less than you are. If you really cared for me-wanted more than...” she sputtered, gesturing to her naked body beneath the towel, ”more than this, this, then you wouldn't ask me to give up who I am, either.” then you wouldn't ask me to give up who I am, either.”
He sagged back against the opposite wall, desire erased, misery setting in. She was right. But it didn't necessarily matter.
”I don't know what I can do. I just don't know, Sarah.” His emotions were raw in his eyes. ”What I do know is I don't want to lose you. How can you blame me for that?”
She looked away, her beautiful lips set in a flat, painful line as she maintained her control. ”I think we've been in here long enough for them to buy it. You can go back to your room now.”
The distance she put between them with the statement was tangible, and he nodded. He wasn't about to beg her for what he wanted.
His voice was neutral. ”We'll have to get wet. They need to think we were showering.”
”You first. I'll follow after you leave. They can think we said our goodbyes in here.”
His heart ached. Maybe they had.
AS SHE LEFT her cabin the next morning, feeling all the worse for wear and hoping it simply looked like she'd had a late night partying, she wasn't completely surprised to be detained by a yeoman. her cabin the next morning, feeling all the worse for wear and hoping it simply looked like she'd had a late night partying, she wasn't completely surprised to be detained by a yeoman.
”Ms. Jessup. If you could come this way, the owner of the s.h.i.+p requests the honor of your company at breakfast.”
”The owner? What would he want with me?”
The yeoman smiled. He seemed younger and more innocent than he must surely be, Sarah thought. Did he know what was going on, or was he just another dupe?
”On each trip, certain guests are invited to join Mr. Valente for breakfast on the last day of the cruise. Such an invitation has been extended to you.”
”Oh, well, I suppose that's quite an honor. I can't imagine why he would choose me. Perhaps I should change into something more suitable....” She presented a fl.u.s.tered, nervous facade, and the yeoman smiled, taking her by the arm. No, he wasn't about to let her walk away. Definitely part of the pack.
”You're perfect just as you are. Mr. Valente will not want to be kept waiting. Come this way, please.”
She tried to squelch the excitement that her plan appeared to have worked. Logan was nowhere in sight, but she did have her choker on, so she wasn't alone. She stepped up into a grandly decorated room that occupied most of the s.p.a.ce under the bridge and was left alone as the yeoman closed the door behind her.
A table was set with a breakfast that smelled like heaven. Regardless of the fact that it was bait meant to draw lambs to slaughter, she was starving. There were also only two chairs-so much for the yeoman's story about the owner inviting several guests to breakfast. She was the only special one, apparently.
Unable to resist the grumbling of her stomach, she grabbed a croissant from the table and walked casually around the room, looking for anything that might lend a clue to the seedy operation they had going on here. Not that she expected anything to be just lying out in the open, but it was possible.
She turned when she heard a door open on the other side of the room, and saw a man enter. He was in his fifties, she guessed, and not bad-looking for his age. Kept himself in shape. He was dressed in a casual business suit, his salt-and-pepper hair long enough to be youthful but neatly groomed in a way appropriate for his age. His blue eyes mirrored hers, and he smiled with perfectly straight teeth.
”Ms. Jessup. So nice to see you could make it. Please, have a seat. I see you already started without me.”
”Sorry. I was hungry.” She offered a smile, and he returned it, waving her apologies away with a careless gesture.
”You should feel free to help yourself. You're my guest.”
Or your prisoner? she wondered. How long would he bother to keep up the little play they were engaged in? She decided to string it out, get him to talk, and sat, starting on a cheese omelet. It was going to take some energy to kick this guy's b.u.t.t. They made small talk for a while, and she began to get restless. she wondered. How long would he bother to keep up the little play they were engaged in? She decided to string it out, get him to talk, and sat, starting on a cheese omelet. It was going to take some energy to kick this guy's b.u.t.t. They made small talk for a while, and she began to get restless.
”Thank you for the breakfast and conversation, but I need to go. I'd like to get some time in at the tables before we get back to sh.o.r.e.”
”Please, please. Relax. You have plenty of time, several hours before the tables close. I can't possibly allow you to leave just yet.”
”But I want to go.”
And there it was. She noted the flicker in the eye, the mean little twitch in the cheek that belied the suave charm he'd been pouring on. She'd pressed the right b.u.t.ton-a guy like him wouldn't like a demanding or stubborn woman. She needed to tread carefully, to play him out and get him to say as much as possible, the little recorder on her neck carrying everything back to Ian and E.J.
”I don't think so. We need to talk.”
”About what?”
”I want to make you an offer.”
She pretended to be curious, and sat back in her chair, though she didn't touch her food.
”What kind of offer? I already have a job....”
He smiled, and it was smarmy and condescending-they'd no doubt looked into her background. She kept her own name; using a fake name was asking for trouble on such a short job, when she didn't have time to get used to a new ident.i.ty. But she'd trumped up a background as a full-time waitress in a sw.a.n.k seafood restaurant where she did fairly well. They'd also made sure she appeared to have a bit of a gambling problem.
”Yes, we know about your work. And we know about your debt-including the debt you acc.u.mulated last night. I know you don't have enough in your credit account or your bank to cover the losses, Ms. Jessup.”
”How can you know these things about me? You have no right-” She was enjoying her role as the outraged woman, the nervous gambler in too deep, and played it to a tee.
”I have every right. I know everything about everyone who sets foot on this s.h.i.+p. I know everything about you.”