Part 7 (2/2)

Perhaps her injuries were only superficial, but they troubled him greatly. More than they should. That couldn't be helped. He'd thought himself incapable of such tender emotions. To feel them now, after all this time, for a woman he barely knew, surprised him. He fully recognized the error in the course he was about to take, but somehow he couldn't turn away from it. He had to go to her.

He hesitated outside her door, tried once more to discourage himself, but a force beyond his control would not allow him to walk away. He tapped on the door, hoping against hope that she would order him away...refuse to open the door...

”I'm in here.”

Her m.u.f.fled voice echoed through the closed wood panel obliterating any possibility of doing otherwise.

He opened the door.

Walked into the room.

Found her in the bathroom, dabbing at her injured lip with a damp cloth.

”I'm okay, really,” she insisted, those deep blue eyes warning him not to come any closer.

He didn't stop until he stood right next to her before the mirror and sink. Her blouse lay open, torn and with the b.u.t.tons missing. There would be a bruise on her left cheek by morning. Her silky blond hair was tousled as if someone had run their fingers through it over and over. His fingers fisted with the need to do just that. He'd plunged his fingers into her hair earlier. The feel of it haunted him still. Soft, silky.

He'd forgotten how smooth and velvety a woman's skin felt beneath his fingers. His loins grew heavy as he recalled those brief seconds when he'd cupped her face in his hands, grazed the warmth of her lips.

”You don't have to watch over me,” she complained shattering the trance he'd fallen into. ”I'm not a child or a damsel in distress, however hard that is to believe.”

He felt the corner of his mouth lift in amus.e.m.e.nt. ”I never considered you a child.” His gaze roamed the length of her feminine body. Definitely not a child.

She tossed the cloth into the sink and planted her hands on her hips and glared up at him. ”I'm no damsel in distress either, Drake. Get this straight here and now, I could have taken both those guys on my own. I've had all the right training. I know my business and don't you forget it.”

He held up both hands in surrender. ”Got it,” he acquiesced. He'd been right, her eyes turned a good deal darker when she was angry. When she was calm they were blue like the ocean, serene and cool. But when her emotions flared, they turned almost cobalt blue.

She inspected the damage once more, leaning close to the mirror. Grimacing at her reflection, she dampened the cloth again with cold water and held it against her cheek. She muttered an expletive that precisely described the guy who'd done this to her. Her inventiveness made Noah smile.

”Would you like a brandy?” he offered, certain that she suffered from other pains not visible to him and that she would adamantly refuse to mention for fear of showing weakness.

She looked at him from the corner of her eyes, clearly suspicious of his attentiveness. ”That would be nice.”

Another warning went off somewhere in the back of his mind, but he ignored it. ”Come with me.”

He led the way to his suite, taking the stairs slowly. Opening the door, he entered his sanctuary, the third floor dungeon into which, until tonight, no other human had been allowed since Noah's retreat here. Not even Lowell was permitted on the third floor. Noah took care of things here himself. He preferred complete privacy.

He considered the woman following close behind him. She'd already been here, he reasoned. Uninvited yes, but she'd been here nonetheless. What would it hurt to have her here for the brandy? She needed...deserved a drink after what she'd been through.

It had been, after all, his fault.

Noah hated the way he rationalized his actions. He knew better than to do this...to think any of this. But the bottom line was he simply couldn't help himself.

Despite his circ.u.mstances, or maybe because of them, this woman was attracted to him. A part of him that had nothing to do with reason or rational thinking wanted to explore that...wanted to know why she succ.u.mbed to it knowing what she knew. He was familiar with her record, she was a professional all the way. These circ.u.mstances were as out of character for her as they were for him. That part intrigued him...made him desperate to know the why of it. Or maybe he just wanted to feel again.

It had been a very long time.

The realization that his body could react so strongly so quickly startled him as nothing else had since exiling himself to St. Gabriel.

”Would you like to sit?” he offered as he moved to the bar and poured her two fingers of brandy.

”No, thank you.” She paused a few feet away, looking sorely uncomfortable and far too s.e.xy, rumpled as she was from tonight's battle.

She was afraid of where this might lead. She was holding back...being the professional. He had to respect that. He handed the gla.s.s to her, reveling in the brief feel of her skin as their fingers touched. If she only knew what her mere presence was doing to him...

She sipped the liquor, closing her eyes and savoring the burn. Noah considered pouring himself a drink, but decided against it. He wanted to watch her...didn't want to miss a single nuance. Those eyes opened in a heart-stopping laser show of cobalt blue and he had to remind himself to breathe.

When she'd finished her drink and set the gla.s.s aside, she leveled her gaze on his. ”We have a problem,” she announced firmly.

Oh, yes. They definitely had a problem. But it was more his problem, he felt relatively sure, than hers. Every muscle in his body had hardened merely watching her drink. ”And that is?” he invited her to continue.

”I asked you to stay put out there, you didn't. You could have been injured-”

He started to argue, but she stopped him with an uplifted hand. He deferred to her wishes.

”It's my job to keep you safe. As I told you before, I've been well trained. I know how to handle myself. I don't need or want you getting in the way. I have a problem with failure. If you keep disobeying my orders I'm going to end up with a black mark on my record. I'd like to prevent that if possible. Do you think you can give me a break here? My boss is watching.”

The fire in her eyes underscored her words. He understood perfectly. He'd been there before. Her career was top priority. Failure was not an option. She wanted to do her best, to excel, and he was getting in the way. There had been a time when he had felt just as strongly.

Noah considered her needs as well as his own for a few moments longer. She waited, clearly impatient, her hands still planted on her hips. Need so strong welled inside him all over again just watching her that he wasn't sure he could do with the proper finesse what he was about to propose. But there was only one way to find out if he could.

”All right, Maggie Callahan, I'll be more cooperative starting immediately, on one condition.” Antic.i.p.ation thrilled through him as he waited for her response.

That lovely blue gaze narrowed. ”And that condition would be?”

An unfamiliar sensation coiled in his chest, a wide smile stretched across his lips. ”That you agree to follow through with the offer you made earlier...before we were interrupted.”

He recognized the instant realization dawned on her. Her eyes widened, her lips parted and the breath trapped in her throat.

”Mr. Drake,” she began, shaking her head adamantly, ”I-”

He shook his head slowly from side to side, cutting off the lengthy reb.u.t.tal to his suggestion she would have made. ”No contingencies, no exceptions. All or nothing.”

She chewed her bottom lip, unconsciously making him salivate. He wasn't sure he could hold out for her agreement. The notion of simply grabbing her and kissing her flitted through his mind, but he didn't want it that way. He wanted to do this kiss right...slowly, thoroughly.

He wanted her to know she'd been kissed.

Finally, she drew in a deep, bolstering breath and looked straight into his eyes. ”One question.”

He nodded once for her to continue.

”Is this a one-time thing or will you be requiring repeat performances?” she asked, her voice a bit stilted.

He inclined his head and pretended to consider the question, then he shrugged. ”That possibility will remain entirely open. If one of us wants to do it again and the feeling is mutual, then we'll follow our instincts.” He lifted one shoulder in a careless shrug that was in no way indicative of his feelings. ”Bearing in mind that neither of us may want to do it again, we'll proceed under the impression that it's a one-time deal.”

Something like indignation etched itself across the landscape of that pretty face. ”Fine,” she said tightly. ”You have a deal.”

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