Page 23 of Dangerous Lover

He paused to think. “Yeah, I did. A lot. We had to outthink some pretty inventive and seriously nasty bad guys. It helped that Hamid’s one of the good guys. Studied at Cal-Tech, got himself an engineering degree that he doesn’t use and solid poker skills, which he does. The man’s got a good head on his shoulders and he wants to turn the clock back to normality after the reign of the fundamentalists. He’s his country’s best hope for a future that isn’t grinding poverty and crazed fanatics out on the streets killing people to keep the country safe from women who wear lipstick and nail polish. We worked really hard to keep him alive.”

Caroline watched his face as he talked. She’d forgotten to turn the overhead chandelier on so most of the light camefrom candlelight. It turned his darkly tanned skin a deep bronze, the flickering flames alive in his dark eyes.

The house was lukewarm at best, but Caroline wasn’t cold. He was sitting at right angles to her, their elbows almost touching, and he seemed to be radiating heat. She felt enveloped by it, the very molecules of air between them speeded up and hot.

“If you liked the work so much, why did you leave?”

“I got word that my Dad was sick. He didn’t tell me he was feeling bad—didn’t want to worry me. It was his secretary who told me. She called and said that Dad was vomiting blood. I flew straight back. I bullied him until he went to the doctor.” A faint smile creased his face—a second and it was gone, like a shadow of a smile instead of the real thing. “He was stubborn, my Dad. Hated doctors. It took some doing to get him to one. And when I finally dragged him in for tests, we found out he had stomach cancer. I couldn’t leave him while he was sick. The cancer was very advanced. He only lasted a few weeks. And after he died—I wanted to do something else.”

“Why?”

He put his fork down, thoughtful. He took his time answering. That was something Caroline liked. She disliked glib quips, ready-made answers. He was clearly struggling to find the right words. It was entirely possible that words weren’t his medium. He was a soldier, after all.

Finally, he spoke, his deep voice quiet. “My father was a soldier all his life. When he retired, he founded a company wherehe could use his special skills. I loved my time in the Army, but I know now that, in a way, I enlisted in the Army to please him. When he needed me for the company, I resigned my commission to help him. I was happy to do it. If he were alive, I’d still be in Pakistan, still with the company. But after he died, I realized—” he stopped and struggled for words, “I—I realized that the company washisdream. Not mine. I have another dream, another plan for my life. And much as I miss him, my father’s death set me free to pursue it.”

There was silence in the big room. Through an archway was the living room where she’d lit the fire. It crackled and popped.

He was comfortable with silence. Caroline liked that. “So tell me, what is this dream?”

He hesitated. “I have—some special skills. Some the Army gave me, some I was born with. They were useful to my father and I was happy to place them at his service and at the service of the company’s clients. But he’s gone now. I think I want to use my skills for other kinds of people. The kinds of people who can’t go to a security company and have their problems solved by buying what they need.” His back teeth clenched, the strong jaw muscles flexing under the dark skin. “Security companies protect the kind of people who already have the means to protect themselves. They’re usually rich or at least have enough money to buy themselves the protection of a whole company. A lot of them have companies of their own, with employees to stand between them and danger. Hiring extra security is sometimes just icing on the cake, and sometimes, frankly, a status symbol. What we had was a good company, a successful one, that sold people things they thought they needed, but not all of them did. I think whatI’d really like to do is teach people who need it self-defense skills. People who need to know how to defend themselves but can’t afford professional security staff.”

“And is that what you want to do here? Start a—a what? Self-defense school? Here in Summerville?”

He nodded. “I wanted a fresh start. I … passed through here with my father when I was a child. I liked the place. I just always had it in the back of my mind that I’d like to settle here.”

“There are worse places to live.” A huge gust of wind rattled the window panes and Caroline gave a wry smile. “And then, of course, there’s the delightful, balmy weather.”

He gave another half-smile. “I’ll confess I didn’t plan on arriving in the middle of a blizzard.”

“I’ll bet you didn’t. Summerville’s a nice enough town, but I have to warn you that sometimes the winters can be vicious. The weather forecasters are predicting a particularly cold and long one this year. Is that going to scare you off?” It wasn’t entirely an idle question. It would be a pity if he went. He was going to make a nice boarder and the steady money would be very welcome.

He froze, as if she’d said something of unusual importance. “No, ma’am,” he said softly, watching her eyes. “A little bit of cold weather isn’t going to scare me off, believe me. I’ve been thinking about this for a long, long time.”

Caroline was silent, watching him as he bent his head and finished off the last of his third helping of roast potatoes. Steadily, neatly, he’d tucked away an astonishing amount of food. Apparently what he’d said was true—he hadn’t had agood meal in months. “This meal was delicious, thank you.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. I think a little extra effort is called for on Christmas Eve, don’t you? And I’ve got a nice meal planned for tomorrow.” She dabbed her mouth with the heavy linen Pratesi napkins she only took out on special occasions. “But I warn you, you won’t be getting fed like this every day.”

He took in a deep breath, clearly searching for the right words. Caroline was distracted for a moment by the sight of his massive chest wall expanding with the breath. She could see his pectorals through the sweater. He probably had thick chest hair, judging from the wiry black hairs on his forearms. A sudden image of that chest without the sweater bloomed in her mind and a surge of pure heat shot through her.

It was so unlike her, she almost looked around to see if it was someone else who had turned hot at the thought of a man’s naked chest instead of her, Caroline Lake, Ms. Cool.

“I won’t be complaining, ma’am,” he said finally. “I spent seven years eating MREs, and they taste like year old dog food mixed with rubber. ’Bout as chewy, too.”

“Well,” she answered, amused, “I’m not too sure what MREs are—sounds like some kind of a weapon, actually—but they must be dreadful. I’ll treat you better than the Army did, that’s for sure.”

“Yes, ma’am.” His dark eyes bored into hers. “I’ll just bet you will. I’m looking forward to it.”

His words were completely neutral, polite, even. There was nothing suggestive in either his tone or body language. He kept his gaze strictly above her neck. But there was nomistaking the undertone of his words. Sex hormones suddenly swirled in the air, a little flurry of them, so powerful she was not only at a loss for words, but she could feel the air leave her lungs.

Potent, dark, utterly male desire flared in the room, so powerfully she could practically see the waves of desire coming at her from across the shiny surface of the table. Caroline had been desired before, but she’d never felt this dark magnetic pull before.

She should say something, something light-hearted to dissipate the tension in the air. But for the life of her nothing came to mind. She couldn’t even look away from him, his dark gaze so compelling it was like a punch to the stomach. Her chest felt tight and she found it hard to breathe.

It took Caroline a full minute to realize that it wasn’t just him. She was feeling desireback. It had been so long since she’d felt it, she hadn’t even recognized it. Jack Prescott was so unlike the men she’d been attracted to in the past that it hadn’t even occurred to her that she could desire him.

Caroline was attracted to men who were witty and sophisticated and worldly. Men who enjoyed books and the theater and had an ironic take on life. The little she’d seen of Jack Prescott showed that he was almost the exact opposite. She hadn’t seen wit—indeed, he’d been serious to the point of grimness. He didn’t look sophisticated, or worldly. True, he’d traveled, but to outposts of civilization, where an ability to wield a gun was more useful than a knowledge of the local museums.

That was her head talking. The rest of her body simplywasn’t listening. It was completely taken over with hormonal overload, a reaction to the sheer …malenessof Jack Prescott. It was humbling to think that her body wasn’t paying any attention at all to what he was saying, what books he might have read, what his politics might be.

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