Bodyguard Rescue. Donna Young

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      “All of it,” he commanded, placing his hands over hers before lifting the mug to her lips again. Inwardly seething over his high-handed approach but afraid he would notice her hand trembling beneath his, Kate drank most of the soup in one gulp.

      It slid down easily. So easily in fact, she disregarded the vague, bitter taste it left behind on her tongue. Vegetable. She should have guessed. Cain was addicted to vegetable soup.

      The warmth filled her stomach, then slowly mushroomed through her body, diminishing some of the hollowness and leaving her strangely comforted. She smothered a yawn.

      With a soft grunt of satisfaction, Roman stepped away. He took the iron poker and stoked the fire. “What are you doing here, Doc?” he asked, glancing her way.

      She paused, just a fraction. The lift of his eyebrow indicated he saw her hesitation. The man was too perceptive. With a shrug, she managed to say, “Taking a break from work.”

      Roman regarded her, his gaze burrowing into hers. Seconds ticked away while Kate, refusing to fill the uncomfortable silence, waited with what she hoped was a blank look. He could wait until the next ice age as far as she was concerned. It didn’t matter Cain trusted this man. It didn’t matter that her parents loved him. She wouldn’t. Ever.

      “Let’s try again.” He returned the iron to its stand and leaned against the fireplace brick. “What are you doing here?”

      She wasn’t fooled. His tone was friendly, even mildly pleasant, but the man was angry. Not seething, but infuriated enough to harden his jaw. Why?

      “I’m on vacation,” she replied, shocked at how easily the lie slipped over her tongue. “I wanted time to myself and decided to use my brother’s cabin. When I called Cain, his secretary said he was out of town indefinitely.” She waved a hand in the air. “Some overseas business complication.”

      “So you decided to come anyway, is that it?”

      Kate glared down the censure in his eyes. “That’s it.”

      “What about the attack?”

      “What about it?” she returned, covering the defensiveness by setting her mug on the end table and gathering the covers around her. “My nerves are shot from working too hard, and I certainly didn’t expect to be scared out of my mind by you creeping around.” She eyed him shrewdly. “What’s your story?”

      “The same, it appears. Cain loaned me the cabin because I wanted to relax and do some fishing, since I’m in between projects.” One shoulder rose in a negligent motion. “I thought you were some local kids trying a hand at vandalism.”

      “Quite a coincidence,” she murmured. What were the odds? It went against her nature as a scientist to believe in coincidences.

      “That would explain how you opened the locked door so easily. Cain must’ve given you his key. I took the spare from under the porch.” She frowned. “When did you talk to my brother?”

      “A few days ago,” he said, then changed the subject. “It still doesn’t make sense.”

      A sharp thwack sounded against the outside wall of the cabin and Kate jumped. Cautiously, Roman straightened from the hearth and lifted the curtain. Kate watched in tense silence as he studied the outside, a short prayer whispering through her mind. A second thump sent a small cry of alarm from her lips. “Roman.”

      He let the curtain drop back into place. “It’s just a tree branch, Doc.” As he spoke, he started toward her. “But this proves my point. We both know you’re more of the moonlit-beach, soft-breeze and Calypso-band type. So why choose the wilderness?”

      Because it was the safest place to hide. “Because I wanted a complete change.” Uncomfortable with his prodding, she decided to switch the subject. “What makes you an expert on my likes and dislikes?” she quipped. He was right, of course. She would’ve traded anything to be lounging dreamily on a nice, flat beach right now, free of her nightmare. Trade anything, that is, except millions of innocent lives.

      “I know you.” Leaning over, he placed one long finger under her chin and tipped her face up toward his. “Better than you know yourself.”

      There was a time when that was true, right before he’d gotten bored with their relationship. She was a different person now, mostly because of him. “Be careful, D’Amato, your arrogance is showing.” She jerked her head away and was immediately sorry when the movement made her light-headed. “You might’ve known me two years ago, but times change and so do people.”

      “Yes, people change. Just not you.”

      Another insult. Scottish pride stiffened her spine. “Don’t assume that because we were once—” She groped for the word, but her mind fumbled.

      “Lovers?” He inserted, his voice dipping huskily.

      “Close,” she corrected. At one time, the possessiveness in his voice would have liquefied her insides, now it raised her defenses. She tried to slide toward the end of the couch to put some distance between them, but her body suddenly felt denser than lead, making her movements cumbersome.

      As he watched her retreat, amusement glinted in his eyes. “‘Close’ or not, I understand you. And you wouldn’t be caught dead in the wild unless you had no other choice.”

      He sat down beside her, successfully pinning her between him and the arm of the couch. He gathered her close, ignoring the stiff resistance of her body.

      “Let me help you.”

      “Help me?” Awareness rippled through her as the warmth of his body seeped inside the quilt, increasing the lethargic haze that had settled over her. She shook her head to clear her mind, but the dizziness continued to assail her, muddling her thoughts.

      “If I did need help—which I don’t—you would be the last person I would turn to.” She emphasized each word by trying to poke her finger into his chest.

      He started to say something, then changed his mind. Abruptly he released his hold and leaned back into the cushions. “I’m not going to rehash the past with you. I admit I could have handled the situation a little better.”

      “A little better?” She bumped him with her elbow and snorted. Not very ladylike, but she didn’t care. “Even King Kong treated his woman better.”

      He responded in Italian, a habit he had when he was angry, but she ignored him. She was fluent in five languages, Italian being one, along with Spanish, Russian and two others she seemed to have forgotten for the moment. Even trying, she couldn’t focus on the translation—something about his knowing what’s best.

      Her eyes burned with fatigue, and she rubbed them with the heels of her hands, releasing a long, audible breath. Lord, dealing with a hardheaded Italian left her even more drained—something she’d considered impossible. She wrestled with the fatigue, trying to maintain her train of thought while her head continued to swim.

      “Look, Roman, you can do whatever you want,” she said, interrupting his tirade. She tugged the covers up to her chin, not quite ready to let go of their protection, and slumped toward the edge of the cushion. “Just do it away from me.” Checking first to see that the quilt sufficiently covered her legs, she struggled СКАЧАТЬ