The Rogue And The Rich Girl. Christine Pacheco

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      “Just feeling a little wear and tear,” she said.

      Ace leaned over the seat and tapped Poncho on the shoulder. “Take it easy, mi amigo.”

      “Sí, sí, I try, I try.”

      He sat back. “It’s only a few miles to the governor’s mansion.”

      She managed a brave smile.

      He couldn’t summon an answering frown. She had guts and tenacity in equal measures. He’d summed her up quickly when she’d stepped onto the Southern California tarmac. Although she’d been reminiscent of Elana, there’d been several subtle differences.

      Sure, Nicole had all the trappings of a spoiled rich girl, from the diamond studs in her ears all the way down to designer aerobic shoes, but there was something more. She carried herself with determination, mixed with an enchanting, exciting vulnerability. Wariness and hurt showed in her face—he’d had plenty of experience recognizing both—even though she fought to hide it. All combined to intrigue him.

      An urge to protect her nearly overwhelmed him. And the only thing that stopped him from reaching for her hand was the certainty she wouldn’t welcome it.

      The car hit a pothole that jarred Ace’s teeth. Yet, stoically, Nicole never uttered a word, even when he saw her top teeth sink into her lower lip.

      With each mile they drew closer to the governor’s mansion, Ace’s senses sharpened. He felt as though a hundred pairs of eyes stared at him, tracking every move.

      Waiting. Watching.

      Unconsciously, he reached for his gun. He cut a glance out the window, seeing swaying trees and low hanging clouds.

      “What’s the matter?”

      Her nervous voice intruded. Never looking at her, he forced a lie. “Nothing.”

      “Then why are you playing with your gun?”

      “I’m not.” Even in the shrouding darkness, he knew she’d arched an auburn brow. He frowned, realizing his fingers were resting protectively on the deadly coldness of his weapon. “Nothing’s wrong,” he reasserted. “Habit.”

      The disbelief of her gaze penetrated the distance.

      “You make a habit of playing with your gun, Mr. Lawson?”

      “Ace,” he corrected. Again. “The name’s Ace. My dad’s Mr. Lawson.” He’d said it to distract her from her line of questioning, yet, for a second, he actually wondered what his name would sound like when her tongue curled around the word.

      “Ace,” she said dutifully.

      The sensation of a fist landed in his stomach. Lord, she made it sound seductive, just as he’d hoped—just as he’d feared. He groaned. If his name sounded that good, how would it feel to have her tongue on his, tasting, testing, teasing?

      Shaken, he dragged a hand through the cropped length of his hair. Business, he reminded himself. Nicole was business. And he was a professional.

      But his thoughts strayed to the upcoming night ahead. Business. Right. Sure. He’d sworn to do whatever it took to change her mind. Do it he would.

      He shifted uncomfortably, his jeans suddenly too tight.

      Poncho rounded a corner and slowed down. Ace ruthlessly shoved aside his thoughts as the governor’s unkempt lawn and gardens loomed in the taxi’s dirty headlight. In the month since Ace’s last visit, natural vegetation had choked the life out of the carefully planted gardens. There were no signs of activity.

      Ace leaned forward. “What’s going on, mi amigo?”

      The man shrugged several times. “No sé.”

      Ace rubbed the stubble on his chin. He’d spoken to Juan Rodriguez only two weeks ago. The man was anxious to meet Nicole. So where were the lights and welcoming committee?

      Poncho stomped on the brake. The car jerked to a stop, spewing pebbles and dirt in every direction.

      “Ace?”

      Alone, he would have gone inside. But because of Nicole, he refused to take the chance.

      Hairs on the back of his neck stirred in undeniable warning. “Turn around, Poncho. Get the hell out of here.”

      Tires squealed as Poncho forced the manual steering to perform a feat it wasn’t designed for.

      “What’s going on?” Nicole asked in a breathless whisper, evidently confused, obviously reading his panic.

      On the back of Poncho’s seat, Ace beat an impatient staccato with his fingers. Mentally, he listed possibilities and options. He was aware of the nervous looks Poncho cast in the rearview mirror. “The governor was expecting us,” Ace said finally.

      “You think something’s wrong?”

      He nodded tightly. “I do.”

      She fell silent for a few moments, moments he needed in order to think. A cloud sauntered away from the moon, affording him the opportunity to see her fingers were tightly knotted in her lap. Yet she didn’t say anything. Again he found a reason to admire her.

      Dragging his attention away from Nicole, he cataloged the things that didn’t make sense. Leaning forward, he quietly asked Poncho, “Who knew I was coming here?”

      “Señor Rodriguez.”

      “Anyone else?”

      The man met Ace’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “Even I did not know, until Ricardo tell me tonight.”

      The answer only raised more questions. Acid churned in his stomach. The rebels were obviously more of a threat than Rodriguez or Ace had thought.

      “I take you to mi casa, no?” Poncho offered.

      “Gracias, mi amigo.” Ace knew they would be somewhat safe with his friends, a whole lot safer than if they strung a hammock between two palm trees.

      “Is his home big enough for us?” Nicole asked quietly.

      “No.” Ace wondered how she would react to an evening of camping out on the home’s dirt floor. The first time he’d stayed with the Maldanados, he’d thought of Elana. He knew the idea of spending five minutes in the house would have made her painted toes curl in her satin pumps.

      Would Nicole’s reaction be any different?

      “Is Poncho married?”

      “With five kids.” He waited for a reaction. Lord knew, his ex had had definite problems when he’d mentioned kids. “Five noisy kids.” Ace wished he could see Nicole’s expression. Would her lips be curled in disgust at the thought of what having five kids would do to her career, not to mention her figure?

      The issue of children had been the first of many to cause serious problems between СКАЧАТЬ